Finding Pride in a deep red state: 3 LGBTQ individuals share their experiences
It was Election Night 2016, and unlike most Americans–whose eyes were peeled to the TV–Heather Gilfillan was in her bed, blissfully asleep.
“I actually had to wake up super early the next day for class, so wasn’t able to stay up [that night],” Gilfillan, who identifies as bisexual, tells Queerty. “But before I had gone to bed, it didn’t seem like Trump was going to win. I went to bed feeling hopeful.”
But as soon as she woke up, Gilfillan’s state of happiness quickly turned dark. She recalls going on her phone to check Twitter, only to see a celebratory Tweet from a local Trump supporter. It seemed her worst fears had been confirmed: Trump had won, and was now going to be President.
“It was difficult for me to even get out of bed. I went to my class, and I actually couldn’t even stay for the whole thing because I was so frustrated and upset,” she says. “Seeing people walk around with huge smiles on their faces made it so much worse.”
Unfortunately, nearly three years later, things have not fared much better for Gilfillan, who represents one of thousands, if not millions, of LGBTQ people living in conservative places around the country.
Gilfillan resides in Stillwater, a rural farming town located in northern New Jersey. The town is home to 3,920 residents, most of whom are white, conservative Republicans. Nearly all of them are “close-minded” and “not accepting of anyone that isn’t white and straight,” according to Gilfillan.
In fact, it’s common to hear the word “f*g” tossed around like “it’s nothing at all,” and any kind of emotion shown by men is “considered gay,” she says. When gay marriage became legal in the United States, Gilifallan would often hear people in Stillwater complain because “they absolutely hated hearing about anything to do with the LGBTQ community.”
As a bisexualwoman, Stillwater is an odd place for Gilfillan to be.
“It’s so strange. I don’t see it anywhere else,” Gilfillan says. “The fact that you can come here and still see Trump signs is extremely embarrassing. Like, there’s one that’s drilled almost 15 feet up a tree trunk so that nobody can take it down. It feels almost cult-like. People still have Trump bumper stickers on their cars, wear Trump hats and shirts, and talk about him like he’s some kind of God.”
That said, Gilfillan’s experience is not representative of all LGBTQ individuals living in red states.
Just ask Jacob Balash, who lives in the small town of Spencer, Indiana (population: 2,250) with his husband, Jonathan. Balash, who identifies as gay, is the co-founder of Spencer Pride, an annual festival the town has held for the last 13 years.
Even though he lives in a red state (Trump won the election in Indiana with more than 56% of the vote), Balash says his town and its festival is a living testament to the fact that not all red areas are full of conservative, closed-minded people.
“One of the things that surprised us when we started Spencer Pride was how many progressive people were already living here and had spent their entire lives here,” he says. “Until we came and [started Spencer Pride], there hadn’t been an opportunity for other like-minded people to show their support.”
That said, it hasn’t been all positive. “We’ve experienced some vandalism,” Balash admits. “Our pride flag has been stolen more times than I can count, our mailbox has been destroyed, and we’ve had a few eggs thrown at our property.”
During one recent incident, two teenagers vandalized Balash’s property, damaged a flag pole, and stole their pride flag.
“When interviewed by the Sheriff’s department, [the teens] confessed that they had done this because we were ‘big time queers,’” Balash says with a laugh. “I’m glad to know we’ve finally hit the big time. That must mean we are making a difference if these kids were so insecure about the makeup of my family.”
Following the incident, Balash says more than 200 community members hung up pride flags in their homes as a show of support. He also created and printed a batch of ‘Big Time Queers’ T-shirts, all of which sold out shortly after they were made.
Because of the kind of support he has seen in his town, Balash has no plans to relocate to a larger, more accepting city, such as New York or Los Angeles.
“I feel passionately that progressive-minded people should stay put and help make change where they are,” he says. “If everyone who is open-minded flees to the coasts, the middle of the country will never change.”
Kedryn McElderry, a gaymale who lives in Kalispell, Montana, and who just this month helped organize Kalispell’s first ever Pride Festival alongside the town’s non-profit, Love Lives Here, shares similar thoughts. Though he still acknowledges that bigotry is alive and well in rural areas.
In one instance last April, a Kalispell-based parent sent a letter to the local newspaper after someone read “Prince & Knight,” a gay-inclusive fairytale, to a group of preschoolers at the town’s library.
In the letter, the parent said she considered the topic of gay marriage to be “totally inappropriate for an audience of preschoolers,” and was disappointed the librarian did not notify her in advance that she would “introduce such a controversial subject to innocent children.”
Even with instances like these, McElderry believes progress is being made.
“I can tell you for certain that our climate here is changing, but in different ways than we expect,” he said. “Sure, things get really bad for periods of time, we have incidents with churches and newspapers, but those bring gifts of their own. Allies come out of the woodwork and rally support, businesses open their doors, and connections are made [between organizations and allies alike].”
And as for Gilfillan? Well, don’t expect her to stick around Stillwater, New Jersey much longer.
“I enjoy little to nothing about my town,” she says, bluntly. “The people here are racist, sexist, and homophobic and it’s honestly exhausting. Once I finish school and have enough money to move out and start my life, I’m going to move very far away from here.”
But not before she attends WorldPride in New York City. After all, it’s only a state away, and is a celebration Gilfillan is all but blissful to take part in as an LGBTQ individual.
“Pride means a lot to me,” she says. “Each time I go [to Pride], I can’t help but cry tears of joy for a minute or two. I think it’s so important to celebrate how far the world has come in accepting the LGBTQ community. Being unapologetically you is something to celebrate, and I love the fact that we have an entire month to do that.”
LGBTQ Rights Group Under Fire for Celebrating Accused Gay Bashers at Annual Equality Gala: VIDEOS
Four men accused of assaulting a gaycouple after Miami Beach Pride in 2018 were celebrated this week at an annual Champions of Equality Gala for SAVE, South Florida’s largest LGBTQ group, and the group’s executive director Tony Lima told attendees the men were “‘wrongly accused,’ not only of a hate crime, but the attack itself, despite it being caught on video,” according to South Florida Gay News.
Terry Gonzalez-Chaveza, a spokesperson for the Office of the State Attorney, disputed Lima’s claim: “We are aggressively pursuing the prosecution of the case. We believe we have sufficient evidence to prove beyond a reasonable doubt the charges against them: Aggravated Battery with Prejudice/Weapon or Bodily Harm, Aggravated Battery, Assault with Prejudice/or on Religious Institution Grounds, and Assault. If that were not the case, the charges would have been dropped in the past.”
As we reported in June 2018, hate crime charges were added to aggravated battery charges following the assault, and mean the men would face up to 30 years in prison if convicted.
Rene Chalarca and Dmitry Logunov, the couple, and Helmut Muller Estrada, a good samaritan who stepped in, were violently attacked by the four men. The victims said they were targeted because of their sexual orientation. They said their attackers used gay slurs while assaulting them.
The suspects, who attended the SAVE gala, are (clockwise, from top left) Pablo Reinaldo Romo-Figueroa, 21, Luis Alonso-Piovet, 20, Juan C. Lopez, 21, and Adonis Diaz, 21. The perps turned themselves in after being seen in video and surveillance photos widely shared on social media.
Lopez’s lawyer said there was “clearly” not gay animus because Lopez’s father is gay: “These kids grew up with their friend Juan – their father has been in a gay relationship the last 15 years. These kids have participated in that – that’s at issue.”
The Miami Herald reports: “Lima apologized via a video statement on Facebook posted Friday night. He said Lopez’s parents contacted him about six weeks ago to inquire about volunteering with the group. Each man volunteered about two to three hours each, and helped with data entry and some preparations. The men and Lopez’s parents bought tickets, he said. Lima said he welcomed the group during the program but did not recall claiming the men had been wrongfully accused. ‘If that’s what I said in haste, I apologize for that,’ he said. ‘I am no one to pass judgment on the case.’ He said he acted alone and should have consulted with the board of directors.”
SAVE apologized in a Facebook post: “We want to extend our deepest apologies first, to the victims, and equally, to the community for any insensitivity that may have been conveyed on our behalf by their attendance and mention at the gala. We are currently investigating this matter more thoroughly to determine the facts around the attendance and recognition of these individuals and will be providing an update to our supporters and the community at large as soon as we gather all the appropriate information.”
‘Seahorse’ director Jeannie Finlay on filming a trans dad giving birth to a beautiful boy
Director Jeannie Finlay
Jeannie Finlay likes the unusual.
The UK-based documentarian has chronicled fake hip hop stars in The Great Hip Hop Hoax, Elvis impostors in Orion and even the appeal of goth culture in Goth Cruise, all without judgment, and all while balancing motherhood on the side.
This year, Finlay adds another distinctive subject to her filmography with Seahorse. The film follows a British transgender man named Freddie McConnell who decides to conceive and give birth to his own child. Finlay’s camera catches every tumultuous moment, from Freddie’s hormone treatment, to the social stigma around a pregnant man, to the birth itself with unflinching focus.
Seahorse premiered at the Tribeca Film Festival earlier this year. It plays at Frameline, the San Francisco-based queer media arts foundation, on June 29, and at Outfest in Los Angeles July 21.
Queerty caught up with Finlay on a break from her latest project–a documentary on the show Game of Thrones–to chat about Seahorse and the reception to its subject matter.
So how did you and Freddie get hooked up?
Freddie found me. He was meeting with directors because he knew this was something that he wanted to do. I just went and met him in a pub. It was also sort of set up by The Guardian. Freddie is a journalist, he works at The Guardian. And he knew this was something he couldn’t do by himself. He wanted someone else to tell the story. So he met with lots of other directors, but to use Freddie’s words: “It didn’t feel right until it did.”
It’s interesting. The thing that was really appealing to me in the story was about the unknown, a leap into the unknown. It really made me think about what it felt like when I was pregnant. I wondered how that experience would be different for Freddie as a transman, what that could mean for him. It felt like there was an open future ahead of us, and that felt interesting. So told him, “If I do this, I’m all in. So are you ready to go all in?” He said he was. And I certainly don’t think either of us really comprehended how hard it would get.
One thing I really admire about the film is that it never feels tabloid, which it easily could have. Going into this experience, what rules did you set for yourself to make sure that your film didn’t come off exploitative?
I guess my films are the opposite of tabloid. Seahorse is the seventh feature I’ve made. So this is not my first time at the rodeo. I’ve sort of made a career out of telling small stories quietly—shy people telling small stories quietly. I was told at the beginning of my career that was just sort of commercial death. But I actually believe there is a different way to tell stories that aren’t really “headline-y.” You’ve got to respect the person you’re making a film about.
Of course.
It was really important for me at the very beginning to talk very deeply with Freddie about the tropes in the way trans stories have been told in the past that have been very hurtful. It was really important to me that we work with the BBC also. There was another broadcaster that was very interested in the story as well. I knew if we worked with them that I wouldn’t have the same sort of autonomy [as with the BBC] and I wouldn’t be able to keep the promises I made over things like the title of the film, or things like not including Freddie’s dead name in the film, or not doing all those cheesy before and after transition photos that you see in films that treat transition like a biological magic trick.
So I did a lot of research and just thought how do we do the opposite of that? I didn’t want to linger too much on transition. I tried to get that out of the way in the first two minutes of the film so it’s easier to just go, Freddie’s a trans guy. What does that mean for pregnancy? The rest of the film is sort of, you know, extraordinary but also really small and domestic. Our lives are roller coasters, aren’t they? It seemed really important to try and reflect that.
Absolutely. Now, when Freddie approached you about doing the film, did he tell you at all what his reasoning was, why it was so important?
Oh yeah, I asked him about that. I think he believed when he transitioned, he would put fertility on hold forever. It was only through joining private groups on Facebook in his community that he was able to discover this is a thing. There are “seahorse dads” all over the world. You’re told, in this country, that if you take testosterone that’s it—you’re infertile. He sort of realized that’s not true. So part of it was that.
I think there were three things: one, to let other trans people know this is possible. Number two is that Freddie realized he was trans because he watched a documentary and saw himself reflected on screen for the first time.
That’s fantastic.
We talked a lot about the idea that documentaries can be empathy machines. They can do that. Then, I think lastly, he wanted there to be a greater understanding to be trans, not just as a headline, but what life looks like. He uses this quote: “Prejudice doesn’t survive possibility.” He had this idea that doing a 90-minute movie would be like spending 90-minutes with someone who is trans. Some members of our community might not have ever met someone who is trans, or may not have known they met someone who is trans or may be afraid to ask the questions. So a film could be a surrogate to do that.
You mention that in the UK there was this belief that for Freddie to have been on testosterone it would mean infertility. Along those lines, when the two of you would go to the doctor, did they ever discourage you?
They didn’t actually. I went to a lot of medical appointments with Freddie. What’s quite interesting is the first hesitation I felt was with an endocrinologist at a gender clinic. What’s happening in the UK is that the knowledge around the fact that transmen can get pregnant and are now able to do that is not widely known. If you then go down that road…Freddie’s endocrinologist was great in terms of outlining what might happen, what to expect, when his period might return, when his fertility might return. But then also, as someone who is available for NHS treatment, he would get the same care as a cisgender woman.
That’s wonderful.
It was amazing. I guess the thing that is sort of problematic in the UK is that the NHS is a closed lottery. So the center where Freddie gave birth was amazing—a brand new birthing center with a pool and great staff. I watched with envy because where I gave birth was not that. At all.
[Laughter]
I’m sure you’ve heard so much about healthcare here in the US, and how draconian…
It terrifies me.
I’m making a film about Game of Thrones at the moment. The guys from HBO came over to visit last week. We were in the edit suite and we were talking about healthcare. They told me how much they pay for healthcare every month, and my jaw was on the floor. I can’t even.
On the subject of birth, there are some very intimate, private scenes in this film. Was there ever a moment you thought to yourself, “I can’t film this, it’s too much?” How did you cope?
I guess that’s the job of a documentary filmmaker. The job is, when it gets uncomfortable, you don’t put the camera down. You get closer. That’s something that becomes more ok as you get older. But also, I think partly, when you’re editing you know, These are the things I need from the film. However, if someone was in danger, I would put the camera down. If I can make a difference, I would intercede. However, my responsibility for Seahorse was to show the whole story. Freddie’s the one that brought up filming the birth, and it was something he always wanted to do. So because his dysphoria returned with an absolute wallop, I would say he had it harder than some seahorse dads have it. Then he’s hanging around with a camera as well. It was not always great for him at all. But he was always clear minded that I was filming the birth, and that I was written into the birth plan.
However, there are boundaries around that. This is a film made with a lot of risk. We didn’t know if his periods would return. We didn’t know if he could get pregnant, if he could carry a baby successfully. We didn’t know if he could have a camera for the birth. The hospital said “no,” so I had to go down and show them the camera and tell them it would just be me filming. We knew that when he went into labor if he had a complex birth, I wouldn’t be able to film it. It was all these “ifs” and “maybes.” But then when it came time to film, it all sort of happened. I kept thinking do I have the shot, then my emotion took over. I was crying because a baby’s been born, and I was wondering if it was in focus. It’s very complex.
In an out outdoor dinner scene, Freddie’s aunt says that he’s un-transitioned because pregnancy is a female experience. Freddie is very reluctant to agree. Now, having gone through birth and finished the film, what’s your view? Can a transman have a feminine experience and still be male? Or is this a totally male experience?
My feeling is that Freddie has the experience of being pregnant as a man, and that’s a different experience. The simple take away I want people to get from the film is that Freddie’s a man. He got pregnant. He had a baby. There was not a single point in that experience where he was not a man. He was male at all points. That’s a simple but very revolutionary idea for middle America or middle England. It’s challenging, but why not? And the thing is, every birth is different, even if Freddie’s is more different than most. He felt compelled to hide away. When I got pregnant, I was offered congratulations. It’s quite interesting the process of doing Q&A’s and press with Freddie. A lot of people have questioned his choice to carry his own child, and not use adoption first.
That is interesting.
That was the point where I usually step in and say “When I had my daughter, nobody asked me why. I just got congratulated.” I understand the urge to want to get pregnant and have a baby.
It’s one that fits well in your filmography. You’re drawn to unique stories. And I mean that as a compliment; Elvis impersonators, hip hop personas, goth culture and now a pregnant man are all shocking yet fascinating. What attracts you to these subjects?
I guess all the films I’ve made are all about subjects I couldn’t stop thinking about. So Orion, The Great Hip Hop Hoax and Sound it Out are all a little trio of films about locating the grit under the glitter. They’re all about what makes us human. The Great Hip Hop Hoax is about lying and how if you lie every day of your life, what’s left of your humanity? With Orion, it’s a man who sold his soul for success and wore a mask as someone else. Then Panto and the Game of Thrones film are about backstage vs. onstage—what happens behind the scenes. I guess the thing all of them have in common is they are characters who aren’t alpha, but they are all people who know who they are. I’m really interested in giving a voice to people who normally don’t get to speak. There’s something really amazing about making films with quiet people. They haven’t told their stories a million times. They’re finding truth in the moment, and that’s really intoxicating as a subject.
So how are Freddie and his son?
They’re going amazing. They’re really cool. We had our European premiere a few weeks ago, and it’s a bit of a shame that we’re not getting to go to all the big festivals—Frameline, Outfest, Provincetown, Toronto. But he’s great. Recently, Freddie’s baby and my baby—who’s 15 now—got together. That was lovely. Really nice.
I’m really enjoying sharing this journey with Freddie. Making the film was hard, and I don’t want to undersell that. It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. But taking all this out into the world is a joy.
Seahorse plays at Frameline43 June 29, and at Outfest in Los Angeles July 21
Todrick ‘Comes Out’ with a Desert Fantasy Harem of Shirtless ‘Boys’ in Glittering Music Video: WATCH
Todrick Hall has followed up “Hair, Nails, Hips, Heels” with something as equally and fabulously gay: his new clip for “I Like Boys”.
The clip features Todrick literally stomping out of the closet to his mother and into a desert fantasy filled with nearly-nakedmen, a harem procession, miles of satin fabric, and a camel. Assume your rightful throne, queen!
