Journal articles on the topic 'Asian American lesbians'

Using the Index of Attitudes Toward Homosexuals to study the attitudes of 34 Asian students and 32 American students toward lesbians and gay men showed these Asian students were more likely to harbor homophobic attitudes than these American students. There were no significant sex differences between groups.

This review seeks to synthesize the current state of knowledge regarding gender differences in rates of physical and psychological intimate partner violence (IPV) prevalence among the four largest racial/ethnic groups in the United States, compares rates of physical and psychological IPV between sexual minorities and heterosexuals and among subgroups of sexual minorities (gay men, lesbians, bisexuals), and summarizes correlates and risk factors that are associated with rates of IPV in both ethnic and sexual minorities.A systematic search of the published literature in the past 40 years using various search engines (e.g., PubMed, PsycINFO, and Web of Science) was conducted. The review identified 55 studies that met criteria. Few gender differences in rates of physical and psychological aggression were found among African American, Hispanic American, Asian American, and Native American men and women. Psychological aggression was most frequently reported. Bidirectional violence, which primarily took the form of minor aggression, was the most frequently reported form of physical violence. When unidirectional aggression was assessed, it was more likely to be female perpetrated, particularly among African Americans. These gender patterns were consistent across general population, student, and community studies. Respondents who reported a history of same-sex cohabitation and those who identified as sexual minorities reported higher rates of IPV than those who reported only a history of opposite-sex cohabitation and those who identified as heterosexual.Regarding sexual minority subgroup differences, bisexuals appeared to be at a greater risk of IPV, and victimization among transgendered individuals has largely been neglected in the literature. Substance abuse and use, marginalized socioeconomic status in the form of family and neighborhood poverty, and exposure to violence during childhood as a witness or victim of violence in the family of origin were consistently linked to elevated rates of IPV. Associations also were found between level of acculturation and minority stress in the form of internalized homophobia and frequency of discrimination based on sexual orientation. However, the complex association among these variables was less clear across racial groups and sexual orientation. Research limitations and future research directions are discussed.

Abstract This study characterizes the mental health of Asian American older adults (aged 60+) who identify as sexual minorities (SM or lesbian, gay, bisexual) and compare to their non-Asian American and non-SM counterparts. Data were from the Research Program on Genes, Environment and Health (Aged 60+; N=185,478), a representative sample of healthcare members from Northern California. It includes SM (N=447) and heterosexual/non-SM (N=15,772) older adults who identify as Asian American (Chinese, Japanese, Filipino, and South Asian) and non-Asian American SM (N=3,890). Rates of dementia, anxiety, and PTSD were similar for both SM and non-SM Asian Americans. However, older lesbian and gay Asian Americans were more likely to have a depression diagnosis (30% vs. 18%, p=0.002) compared to non-SM. Overall, mental health outcomes were lower for Asian American SM compared to non-Asian American SM. We discuss need for understanding protective factors for mental health and implications for future interventions.

Lesbian, gay, bisexual, and other sexual minority (LGB+) South Asian Americans represent a disproportionately underserved and often invisible community in the United States. While issues of sexual violence have been documented in the South Asian American community, little is known on its impact among LGB+ individuals. This study explores the experience of sexual violence, related attitudes, and mental health outcomes among LGB+ South Asian Americans. A community-informed online survey of 18–34-year-old South Asian Americans living near the New York State region, recruited from online social media platforms, was conducted. Study design, implementation, and evaluation occurred in partnership with an advisory board of South Asian young adult representatives; data was analyzed both descriptively and through multivariable logistic regression models. Of the 385 participants who reported their sexuality, LGB+ participants comprised 24.1% (n = 93) of the sample. LGB+ participants were more likely to have experienced rape multiple times (17.2% vs. 9.6%) in bivariate analyses, and higher odds of depression (AOR:3.47, 95%CI:1.61–8.17) in adjusted analyses. Overall, LGB+ South Asian Americans displayed a disproportionate burden of sexual violence and depression. Findings identify policy and research pathways to address sexual violence among LGB+ South Asians.

Abstract Emerging data from epidemiological studies have confirmed elevated prevalence rates for mental health conditions among the lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender (LGBT) populations. An estimated 2.8% of Asian Americans identify as LGBT and 26% of Asian LGBT are 40 years or older. This study analyzed the California Health Interview Survey to examine differences in psychological distress between LGBT and non-LGBT older Asian Americans, and further evaluated the role of discrimination in medical care and intimate violence on psychological distress. Regression results showed older LGBT Asians had a higher psychological distress score compared to non-LGBT Asians. After adjusting for discrimination or violence, this association no longer existed. Experiencing discrimination in medical care and intimate violence were associated with higher levels of psychological stress. This study increases our knowledge of mental health among older Asian LGBT, enhancing our ability to design culturally-targeted and trauma-informed psychosocial interventions to improve outcomes in this population.

Despite the increasing body of literature surrounding online dating preferences, there remains a paucity of research that analyzes whether skin color influences the dating selection process. To fill this empirical gap, the present study uses data collected from 2,024 Asian dating profiles, including the skin tone of the daters, to assess the impact that skin color variation may have on the inter- and intraracial dating preferences of heterosexual males and females as well as gay males and lesbians. This research also examines whether skin tone has a pronounced effect on the relationship between sexual orientation and the willingness to date Asians, African Americans, and Latino/Latinas. The current findings suggest that darker skinned Asians are more likely to state a preference to date African Americans and Latino/Latinas compared to their lighter skinned counterparts; however, they are less willing to date another Asian. The results also document significant interaction effects between sexual orientation and skin color differences. Our findings are discussed in relation to the racial hierarchy of preference and privilege that are inherently linked to the longstanding concept of colorism.

The existence of fan fiction nowadays shows more progressive development especially in this digital era when people does not only use internet for communicating and socializing across time and space but they also show their creativity, one of them is by writing a fan fiction. By writing fan fiction in online platforms, people get the opportunity to express their interests and their identities. This opportunity is also obtained by minority groups such as LGBTQ+ where they can express their identity through fan fiction. LGBTQ+ community utilizes online platform as the tool that brings benefit for them. In this case, writing fan fiction in online platforms allows people to create the preferable representation of minority groups and empower them as the part of LGBTQ+ community. This phenomenon can be seen through a website named Asianfanfics.com which shows an increasing number of fan fictions especially the ones with lesbian related tags such as girl x girl, lesbian, and femslash. Particularly, through the femslash subgenre, people use fan fiction to question the heteronormativity. Regarding to this phenomenon, an interview was conducted by choosing three Asian American fan fiction writers from Asianfanfics.com as the interviewees. Furthermore, by using gender theory and intersectionality, this article focuses on how fan fiction becomes a safe space to express their sexual identities and how lesbian relationship is viewed by Asian families.

The epidemiology of the HIV/AIDS epidemic in the United States has focused research attention on lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgendered communities as well as on racial and ethnic minorities. Much of that attention has, however, been focused on specific racial and ethnic groups, and specific sexual minorities. We report on the results of a study that examined the association between condom use and partnership types among men from four major racial/ethnic groups. Self-reported data on sexual identity (homosexual, bisexual, and heterosexual) and condom use in the past three months were collected from 806 African Americans, Hispanic, Asian, and white men intercepted in public places in Houston, TX. Data indicated that condom use was lowest in African Americans and Hispanic men, bisexual men reported the highest levels of use, with heterosexual men reporting the lowest use. African Americans and Hispanic men reported generally that it was very difficult to use a condom during sexual contact, although the patterns for self-identified homosexual, heterosexual, and bisexual men varied across race/ethnicity. Homosexual African American men reported the least difficulty, and white homosexual men the most difficulty compared with heterosexual and bisexual peers. For homosexually identified men, there were considerable differences across race/ethnicity in the proportion of partners who never or rarely disagreed to use condoms, with Asians disagreeing least, and African Americans most. Within racial/ethnic groups, the levels of condom use and difficulty were similar for male and female partners, suggesting that it is sexual identity, rather than partner gender, that has impacted condom-use messages. These data suggest that racial/ethnic targeting of condom use is likely to be most efficacious in increasing condom use in men.

The purpose of this study was to examine multiple minority stressors (i.e., heterosexist events, racist events, heterosexism in communities of color, racism in sexual minority communities, race-related dating and relationship problems, internalized heterosexism or homophobia, outness to family, and outness to world) as they relate to the psychological distress of 144 Asian American lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, and questioning (LGBTQ) persons. When examined concomitantly, these minority stress variables accounted for approximately one third of the variance in psychological distress scores. Results indicate that heterosexism in communities of color, race-related dating and relationship problems in the LGBTQ community, internalized heterosexism, and outness to world were the only significant and unique predictors of Asian American LGBTQ persons’ psychological distress. In addition, no support was found for the moderating or mediating roles of outness in the internalized heterosexism-distress link.

The association's ninety-seventh convention will he held 5–7 November 1999 at Portland State University in Portland, Oregon, under the sponsorship of the dean of Letters and Sciences and the Departments of English and Languages and Literatures. Inger Olsen is serving as local chair. The program will represent the association members' diverse interests in all matters of language and literature in classical, Western, and non-Western languages. The thirty-one general sessions will include papers on classical, Romance, Germanic, Scandinavian, English, American, and Asian literatures, as well as on linguistics, rhetoric, gay and lesbian literature, film, matrilineal culture, autobiography, poetry and poetics, and critical theory. Among the thirty special sessions are sessions on picaresque literature, Shakespeare and popular literature, Native American literature, Russian literature, Slavic literature, Toni Morrison in the 1990s, Caribbean literature, and cybertextbooks in foreign language education. Several special sessions have been organized by Portland State University and PAMLA affiliate organizations Women in French, MELUS, and the Milton Society of America. Registration at the conference will be $35 and $25. All paper sessions are scheduled for classrooms at Portland State University and will begin Friday at 1:00 p.m. and end Sunday at 1:00 p.m.

The development of leadership in tobacco control has been crucial in the fight against the number one most preventable cause of death and disease worldwide. Yet today, little scientific evidence exists regarding its actual impact, particularly among priority populations. This article describes the impact of the Leadership and Advocacy Institute to Advance Minnesota’s Parity for Priority Populations (LAAMPP Institute), a major tobacco control leadership program for five priority populations: African/African Americans, American Indians, Asian Americans, Chicano/Latinos, and lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender communities in Minnesota. The LAAMPP Institute, a year-long institute with 17 days of training, focused on the core competencies of advocacy, collaboration, cultural or community competency, facilitation, and tobacco control. A logic model helped to guide and frame the institute’s efforts. The LAAMPP Institute has been effective in increasing fellows’ capacity to do advocacy, which in turn has led to increased involvement in implementing social norm–change activities. Leadership development can provide a solid foundation for training leaders and a catalyst for mobilizing key advocates and priority population communities toward the implementation and sustainment of social norm or policy changes.

This article reviews the implications of the Asian American and Pacific Islander (AAPI) population growth over the next twenty-five years on the lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, and queer (LGBTQ) AAPI community. After reviewing some initial considerations of the census data and the history of the LGBTQ rights movement, it then details possible changes in substantive rights and protections for LGBTQ AAPI people in the areas of immigration, nondiscrimination laws, and family-building policies. It discusses anticipated changes in AAPI attitudes toward LGBTQ people and the impact on LGBTQ AAPI community infrastructure.

Introduction: Low stress is one of many plausible mechanisms that may explain the health effects of educational attainment. However, Marginalization-related Diminished Returns (MDRs) refer to the weaker health effects of educational attainment for marginalized, compared to privileged, groups. We are unaware of any previous studies that have compared Asian and non-Hispanic White Americans for the effects of educational attainment on perceived economic stress. The aim was to compare Chinese and non-Hispanic White Americans for the association between educational attainment and perceived economic stress in a national sample of American adults. This is important given stress is a risk factor for poor health. Methods: This study analyzed cross-sectional data of 20,793 adults who participated in the National Health Interview Survey (NHIS 2015). From all participants, 403 individuals were Chinese Americans, and 20,390 were non-Hispanic Whites. Perceived economic stress was the outcome of interest. Years of education (educational attainment) was the predictor variable of interest. Gender, age, region, marital status, sexual orientation (i.e., lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender (LGBT)), and immigration status were covariates. Race/ethnicity was the effect modifier. Results: Overall, higher educational attainment was associated with lower levels of perceived economic stress. A statistically significant interaction showed that the effect of educational attainment on reducing perceived economic stress is smaller for Chinese Americans than Non-Hispanic Whites. Conclusion: Educational attainment is not similarly protective against perceived economic stress across all social groups. Thus, perceived economic stress may explain why ethnic minorities and immigrants gain decreased benefits from their educational attainment than the mainstream and privileged social group.

In drawing from Herek’s (2007, 2009) sexual stigma and prejudice theory, the purpose of this study was to examine the relationship among prejudice toward sexual minority coaches, religious fundamentalism, sexism, and sexual prejudice and to determine whether race affected these relationships. The authors collected data from 238 parents. Results indicated that Asians expressed greater sexual prejudice than Latinos and Whites, while African Americans expressed more religious fundamentalism than did Whites. There were also differences in the associations among the variables. For African Americans, sexism held the strongest association with prejudice toward sexual minority coaches. While for Asians and Whites, religious fundamentalism held the strongest association, contact with lesbian and gay friends was a significant predictor of prejudice for Asians, but not for the other groups. For Latinos, both religious fundamentalism and sexism were associated with sexual prejudice. The authors discuss the results in terms of theoretical and practical implications.

The experiences and the everyday life stories of lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender (LGBT) youth who are also Asian American, Native Hawaiian, and Pacific Islander (AANHPI) are not well-known or documented in the literature about LGBT or AANHPI communities. To help address this lack of information and knowledge, this article highlights some of the issues that these youth face and offers recommendations regarding data collection, cultural competency, and utilization of an intersectional lens of race/ethnicity and sexual orientation to ensure changes will be considered to policies that affect these populations. The policy recommendations focus on issues such as bullying and sexual and reproductive health.

Identity politics, or collective activism based on embodied experiences of gender, sexuality, race, ethnicity or nationality, existed before the late twentieth century, but the term was coined in the 1970s and widely circulated in the 1980s as a response to social injustice, widespread prejudice and even assault borne by members of specific minority groups. For lesbians, gays and transsexuals, for ethnic minorities like Native Americans in the US or First Nations in Canada, for women in many Western countries, identity politics has meant working proactively for full legal and social recognition. Feminism often flies under the banner of identity politics with the argument that gender equality is still far from the norm in Western societies and even less so in many Asian and African societies, and in those of the Arab world.

Experiences of discrimination due to one’s racial; ethnic; or lesbian gay, or bisexual (LGB) status have been associated with higher levels of sociopolitical involvement in racial, ethnic, and sexual minority communities. In this study, we examined (a) the associations between perceived racism in the LGB community, sociopolitical involvement in LGB racial or ethnic minority communities, and outness; and (b) whether the association between perceived racism and sociopolitical involvement in the LGB community is moderated by outness among LGB racial or ethnic minority adults. The study draws on a sample that is diverse with respect to age, gender, sexual orientation, race, and ethnicity. Results revealed that Asian American participants perceived higher levels of racism in the LGB community than Latina/o participants. Perceptions of racism in the LGB community predicted sociopolitical involvement in LGB communities. Implications of these findings are discussed.

This investigation was conducted through the support of the College Misericordia Diversity Institute and a grant from the Blue Ribbon Foundation of Blue Cross of Northeastern Pennsylvania. Focus group participants were 49 adults from seven minority populations residing in northeastern Pennsylvania’s Luzerne and Lackawanna counties. Data was collected by 11 focus group leaders who were members of a Blue Ribbon Grant Core Committee at College Misericordia in 2004. The seven populations studied were African Americans, Arabic Muslims, Asian-Chinese and Korean, Gay and Lesbian, Hispanic, Jewish, and Asian Indian. A 30-question survey was used to collect data during one to two hour focus group interviews. Through content analysis, six problematic issues faced by many of the participants were identified. All of the findings were validated by a review process. The six issues faced by the 7 groups were: 1) Economics, Education, and Employment Influence Life for Newcomers, 2) Customs and Traditions Sometimes Sacrificed- The Influence of American Culture, 3) Socialization Often Limited to Same Population Group, 4) Mixed Acceptance Level from Area Natives, 5) Bilingual Challenges Impede Optimal Inclusion, 6) Health Care Access Problems. The aforementioned cross-groups study is explored in this report. The study also yielded seven other reports (one for each diverse population) which provide a description of that particular focus group’s perspective on topics such as religion, food, family, customs, and health care (see Appendices A, B, C, D, E, F, and G). Findings of this study are being disseminated in a local effort to educate health care professionals. Future research will be needed to determine if progress is being made in fulfilling the health care needs of all diverse populations living in Luzerne and Lackawanna County, as well as other parts of northeastern Pennsylvania.

AbstractOne of the most distinctive movements within Christian theology to have emerged over the past generation has been the various theologies of liberation which originated in Latin America but which now span a diversity of styles, including feminist and womanist, Black, Asian and lesbian/gay/bisexual and transgendered (LGBT) theologies. All theologies of liberation purport to give a voice to the experiences of those formerly silenced or marginalized by society and/or the Church. This is essentially an issue of power, since one of the authenticating marks of such theologies is the extent to which they enable such groups to move from powerlessness to empowerment. Yet theologies of liberation also represent, potentially, another redistribution of power, by enabling previously excluded groups to bring their interpretations and testimonies into theological discourse. This article examines the background to this intersection of power and knowledge in theology, and asks how public theology might assist such a process of theological empowerment.

While COVID-19 vaccines are generally available, not all people receive vaccines. To reach herd immunity, most of a population must be vaccinated. It is, thus, important to identify factors influencing people’s vaccination preferences, as knowledge of these preferences allows for governments and health programs to increase their vaccine coverage more effectively. Fortunately, vaccination data were collected by U.S. Census Bureau in partnership with the CDC via the Household Pulse Survey (HPS) for Americans. This study presents the first analysis of the 24 vaccination datasets collected by the HPS from January 2021 to May 2022 for 250 million respondents of different ages, genders, sexual orientations, races, education statuses, marital statuses, household sizes, household income levels, and resources used for spending needs, and with different reasons for not receiving or planning to receive a vaccine. Statistical analysis techniques, including an analysis of variance (ANOVA), Tukey multiple comparisons test, and hierarchical clustering (HC), were implemented to analyze the HPS vaccination data in the R language. It was found that sexual orientation, gender, age, and education had statistically significant influences on the vaccination rates. In particular, the gay/lesbian group showed a higher vaccination rate than the straight group; the transgender group had a lower vaccination rate than either the female or the male groups; older respondents showed greater preference for vaccination; respondents with higher education levels also preferred vaccination. As for the other factors that were not significant enough to influence vaccinations in the ANOVA, notable trends were found. Asian Americans had higher vaccination rates than other races; respondents from larger household sizes had a lower chance of getting vaccinated; the unmarried group showed the lowed vaccination rate in the marital category; the respondents depending on borrowed money from the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program (SNAP) showed a lower vaccination rate than people with regular incomes. Concerns regarding the side-effects and the safety of the vaccines were the two major reasons for vaccination hesitance at the beginning of the pandemic, while having no trust in the vaccines and no trust in the government became more common in the later stage of the pandemic. The findings in this study can be used by governments or organizations to improve their vaccination campaigns or methods of combating future pandemics.

PURPOSE LGBTQ+ young adults smoke at disproportionately higher rates than their non-LGBTQ+ counterparts, but prevention efforts are limited. Furthermore, prior to This Free Life ( TFL), no known campaigns target LGBTQ+ nondaily smokers. In this study Blue Cross and Blue Shield of Minnesota evaluated a local partnership extension of the Food and Drug Administration (FDA) Center for Tobacco Products’ TFL campaign. METHODS The intervention featured a variety of LGBTQ+-tailored events, social/digital media, and out-of-home media placed in locations with a high density of LGBTQ+ young adults. Cross-sectional surveys (n = 1215) were collected from LGBTQ+ young adult (18-26) nondaily smokers at 4 time points between 2016 and 2019. The national TFL campaign was tracked in a separate evaluation conducted by the FDA. RESULTS 43.0% of nondaily LGBTQ+ smokers reported awareness of the campaign (n = 522), and 63.4% of those also engaged with TFL (n = 330) . Engagement was highest for gay, lesbian and transgender participants, and for Asian and Black/African American participants. Each additional instance of campaign engagement increased participants’ odds of intending to quit smoking by 20% ( AOR = 1.20; 95% CI = 1.05, 1.36). The relationship between campaign engagement and intention to quit was fully mediated by the campaign’s impact on attitudes against smoking and perceived normative trends, but not by perceived behavioral control. CONCLUSION The local extension of TFL increased intentions to quit for LGBTQ+ nondaily smokers. Future research should further explore the relationship between perceived behavioral control and intentions to quit for nondaily smokers.

Introduction Our primary purpose is to understand comorbidities and health outcomes associated with electronic nicotine delivery systems (ENDS) use. Methods Study participants were Kaiser Permanente (KP) members from eight US regions who joined the Kaiser Permanente Research Bank (KPRB) from September 2015 through December 2019 and completed a questionnaire assessing demographic and behavioral factors, including ENDS and traditional cigarette use. Medical history and health outcomes were obtained from electronic health records. We used multinomial logistic regression to estimate odd ratios (ORs) and 95% confidence intervals (CIs) of current and former ENDS use according to member characteristics, behavioral factors, and clinical history. We used Cox regression to estimate hazard ratios (HRs) and 95% CIs comparing risk of health outcomes according to ENDS use. Results Of 119 593 participants, 1594 (1%) reported current ENDS use and 5603 (5%) reported past ENDS use. ENDS users were more likely to be younger, male, gay or lesbian, and American Indian / Alaskan Native or Asian. After adjustment for confounding, current ENDS use was associated with current traditional cigarette use (OR = 39.55; CI:33.44-46.77), current marijuana use (OR = 6.72; CI:5.61-8.05), history of lung cancer (OR = 2.64; CI:1.42-4.92), non-stroke cerebral vascular disease (OR = 1.55; CI:1.21-1.99), and chronic obstructive pulmonary disease (OR = 2.16; CI:1.77-2.63). Current ENDS use was also associated with increased risk of emergency room (ER) visits (HR = 1.17; CI: 1.05-1.30) and death (HR = 1.84; CI:1.02-3.32). Conclusions Concurrent traditional cigarette use, marijuana use, and comorbidities were prevalent among those who used ENDS, and current ENDS use was associated with an increased risk of ER visits and death. Additional research focused on health risks associated with concurrent ENDS and traditional cigarette use in those with underlying comorbidities is needed.

THE REPRESENTATION OF GAYS AND LESBIANS IN SOUTH AFRICAN CINEMA 1895-2013 Despite South Africa's progressive constitution which prohibits discrimination against gays and lesbians, as well as a strong gay movement, South African cinematic images of gay men and women are limited and still at the margin of the South African film industry. One ends up with less than 20 short films, a few documentaries and less than 10 features with openly gay and lesbian characters in the past 114 years of South African cinema. Under apartheid, gay and lesbian voices in film and television were silenced. In a 20-year study of the representation of gays and lesbians in African, Asian and Latin American cinema (Botha 2003; 2012; Botha & Swinnen 2010), the author has noted that homosexual experience is unique in South Africa, precisely because of South Africa's history of racial division and subsequent resistance. South African gay identities...

Abstract Background Sexual violence is a growing issue faced across diverse South Asian American communities under the backdrop of a distinct religious and cultural environment that intersects with the ability to prevent and manage this public health crisis. There is also growing attention on sexual violence experienced by younger or second-generation South Asian Americans, although little is known on the prevalence of this violence and its impact on health outcomes. Using data from a community-driven sexual violence survey, this study describes the experience of sexual violence and related help seeking behaviors and mental health outcomes among 18–34-year-old South Asian Americans living near the New York (NY) State region. Methods Participants were recruited via social media to participate in an anonymous survey developed in partnership with an advisory board of South Asian young adult representatives. Data was analyzed descriptively and through adjusted logistic regression models. Results Overall, responses from 335 sexual assault survivors were analyzed. Types of assault experienced included no-contact (97.6%), contact (75.2%), rape attempts (50.2%), rape (44.6%), and multiple rape (19.6%). Many reported perpetrators were South Asian (65.1%) or family members (25.1%). Only 27.6% indicated they had reported assaults to authorities or received services. In adjusted analyses, odds of help seeking were higher among participants who were older (AOR:1.10, 95%CI:1.02–1.20), were a sexual minority (lesbian, gay, bisexual) (1.98, 1.05–3.71), had a family member as the perpetrator (1.85, 1.01–3.40), had lower disclosure stigma (1.66, 1.16–2.44), and experienced depression (2.16, 1.10–4.47). Odds of depression were higher among sexual minority participants and lower among those with higher sexual assault disclosure stigma (3.27, 1.61–7.16; 0.68, 0.50–0.93). Conclusions Findings call for greater targeted policy interventions to address the prevention of sexual violence among young South Asian Americans and greater focus on improving help seeking behaviors and improving mental health outcomes among survivors.

Abstract Background Lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender (LGBT) individuals have documented disparities in mental health that are experienced across the life course. However, limited research has been conducted to identify the factors which contribute to evaluated risk for poor mental health among older Asian Americans who identify as LGBT. The purpose of this study was to determine the perspectives of leaders of community-based organizations about the mental health needs and concerns of their LGBT constituents from diverse Asian backgrounds. Methods Semi-structured qualitative interviews were conducted with leaders of community-based organizations serving the needs of LGBT individuals. A qualitative framework analysis approach was used to identify, analyze and report themes within the data. Results 11 members of community organizations located in California (54.5%), Chicago (27.2%), and New York (18.1%) were interviewed. Chronic stress was identified as negatively impacting constituents’ lives and was attributed to social determinants of health, including inadequate housing, financial insecurity, discrimination, barriers to adequate health care, and immigration status. Ageism, social isolation, language barriers, and limited connections to cultural, religious, or LGBT communities were identified as factors impacting middle-aged and older adults. Participants identified homelessness, violence, and lack of parental acceptance as contributing to distress among youth and younger adults. The most vulnerable community members were identified as gender minorities, undocumented individuals, and individuals with limited English proficiencies. Organizational leaders described strategies to address social determinants. Conclusions Asian Americans who are LGBT are confronted with substantial risks for poor mental health that are linked to modifiable social determinants of health. Organizations serving these populations play a vital role in meeting the needs of a highly underserved population.

Abstract Background Representing the pathological extreme pursuit of muscularity, muscle dysmorphia (MD) is characterized by a pervasive belief or fear around insufficient muscularity and an elevated drive for muscularity. Despite evidence of elevated body image-related concerns among sexual minority populations, little is known about the degree of muscle dysmorphia (MD) symptoms among sexual minorities, particularly based on Muscle Dysmorphic Disorder Inventory (MDDI) scores. The objective of this study was to examine the nature and severity of MD symptoms in cisgender sexual minority men and women and provide community norms of the MDDI for these populations. Methods Data from participants in The PRIDE Study, an existing study of health outcomes in sexual and gender minority people from the United States, were examined. Participants included cisgender gay men (N = 1090), cisgender bisexual plus (bisexual, pansexual, and/or polysexual) men (N = 100), cisgender lesbian women (N = 563), and cisgender bisexual plus women (N = 507). We calculated means, standard deviations (SD), and percentiles for the MDDI total and subscale scores for cisgender sexual minority men and women. We compared MDDI scores by sexual orientation using linear regression models, both unadjusted and adjusted for sociodemographics. Results Overall, the sample was 85.2% White, 3.0% Asian or Pacific Islander, 2.0% Black, 0.5% Native American, 3.9% multiracial, and 6.6% Hispanic/Latino/a. The mean age was 38.6 (SD = 14.3) and 69.4% had a college degree or higher. Means (SD) for the MDDI total score were 27.4 (7.7) for cisgender gay men, 26.4 (6.4) for cisgender bisexual plus men, 24.3 (6.1) for cisgender lesbian women, and 24.6 (5.5) for cisgender bisexual plus women. There were no significant differences in MDDI scores between cisgender gay and bisexual plus men, or between cisgender lesbian women and bisexual plus women in unadjusted or adjusted models. Conclusions These normative data provide insights into the experience of MD symptoms among cisgender sexual minority men and women and can aid researchers and clinicians in the evaluation of MD symptoms and interpretation of MDDI scores in sexual minority populations.

Abstract Background The subspecialty of Hospital Medicine (HM) has grown rapidly since the mid-1990s. Diversity and inclusion are often studied in the context of healthcare equity and leadership. However, little is known about the factors potentially associated with choosing this career path among US medical students. Methods We analyzed the results of the Annual Association of American Medical Colleges Survey administered to Graduating medical students from US medical schools from 2018 to 2020. Results We analyzed 46,614 questionnaires. 19.3% of respondents (N = 8,977) intended to work as a Hospital Medicine [HM] (unchanged from 2018 to 2020), mostly combined with specialties in Internal medicine (31.5%), Pediatrics (14.6%), and Surgery (9.1%). Students interested in HM were significantly more likely to identify as female, sexual orientation minorities (Lesbian/Gay or Bisexual), Asian or Black/African-American, or Hispanic. Role models and the ability to do a fellowship were strong factors in choosing HM, as was higher median total debt ($170,000 vs. $155,000). Interest in higher salary and work/life balance negatively impacted the likelihood of choosing HM. There were significant differences between students who chose IM/HM and Pediatrics/HM. Conclusion About one in five US medical students is interested in HM. The probability of choosing future HM careers is higher for students who identify as sexual or racial minorities, with a higher amount of debt, planning to enter a loan forgiveness program, or are interested in doing a fellowship.

Today’s urban schools provide a unique intergroup context in which the students vary not only by race/ethnicity but also by the relative representation of their racial/ethnic groups. In two studies, we examined how this diversity aligns with intersectionality and multiple identities perspectives to affect the power and status associated with each group to shape intergroup dynamics. Study 1 focused on the perception of intergroup bias to investigate how perceived presence of same-race/ethnicity peers affects middle school students’ intersectional intergroup attitudes based on race/ethnicity, gender, and sexual orientation. Middle school students (N = 1,107; Mage = 12.10; SD = 0.99) were randomly assigned to view Facebook-like profiles of peers that varied by gender (boy, girl), race/ethnicity (African American, Latinx), and sexual orientation (straight, lesbian, gay) and offered their first impressions as a way to assess various domains of intergroup attitudes. The perceived presence of same-race/ethnicity peers influenced intersectional intergroup attitudes, however, differentially so depending on stereotypes, prejudice, and behavioral tendencies. Study 2 focused on the experience of intergroup bias and simultaneously examined race, gender, and weight discrimination and its consequences among middle school students (N = 4,172; Mage = 13.5; SD = 0.87). Using latent profile analysis, five profiles of youth based on the pattern of perceived discrimination due to gender, race/ethnicity, and weight were identified. Being African American, Latinx, and male with a high body mass index (BMI) and few same-race/ethnicity peers at school predicted membership in a race profile, whereas being White or Asian with high BMI and more same-race/ethnicity peers predicted membership in a weight profile. Perceiving oneself as gender atypical was associated with all discrimination profiles.

Introduction: As a psychosocial stressor, intersectional discrimination may contribute to adverse cardiovascular/stroke health for racial/ethnic LGBTQ (Caceres et al., 2019). This study tested this by examining the associations of intersectional discrimination and microaggressions as unique predictors of stroke risk in a sample of racial/ethnic LGBTQ. Method: Racial/ethnic LGBTQ ( N = 307) were recruited online and completed the LGBT PoC microaggression scale (LGBT-PCMS), the Intersectional Discrimination Index (InDI), and the Perceived Stroke Risk subscale of the ABCD Risk Questionnaire for this study. To account for high depression levels typically found in online samples (Ophir et al., 2019), depression (measured by the Patient Health Questionnaire-9) was included as a covariate. A hierarchical linear regression model was used, with depression (i.e., PHQ-9) in block 1, intersectional microaggressions subscales of the LGBT-PCMS in block 2, and intersectional discrimination subscales of the InDI in block 3 to predict stroke risk. Results: Participants were 19-68 years of age ( M = 34.63, SD = 9.91), majority Cisgender (92%), with 6% Transgender, and 2% Genderqueer/Gender Non-Conforming. Most were Bisexual (76%), with 14.6% identifying as Gay, 8.7% as Lesbian, and .7% as Heterosexual. The sample was 72% Hispanics, 17.2% non-Hispanics Black, 6.5% non-Hispanic Asians, 2.6% Native American/American Indians, and 1.7% identifying as two or more Hispanic groups. For block 1, depression was positively and significantly associated with stroke risk ( β = .612, p < .001). In block 2, above and beyond depression, the LGBT PoC heterosexism subscale of the LGBT-PCMS was positively and significantly associated with stroke risk ( β = .216, p =.015). In block 3, anticipated intersectional discrimination ( β =.241, p < .001) and major intersectional discrimination ( β =.265, p < .001) of the InDI were positively and significantly associated with stroke risk. Discussion: Findings provide evidence for overt and covert intersectional discrimination as unique predictors of perceived stroke risk for this racial/ethnic LGBTQ (majority Hispanic and Black Bisexual) sample.

ObjectiveResearch surrounding firearm ownership is often contextualised within the perspectives of older white men. We expand this description using the perceptions of a diverse group of firearm-owning stakeholders.MethodsWe conducted semistructured interviews from October 2020 to May 2021 with Colorado/Washington State stakeholders representing (1) firearm ranges/retailers; (2) law enforcement agencies or (3) relevant state/national firearm organisations. Data were analysed using standard qualitative techniques and included 25 participants, representing varied sociocultural groups including racial and ethnic minorities, political minorities and sexual minorities.ResultsParticipants for this analysis were of different self-identified sociocultural groups including racial and ethnic minorities (African American, Hispanic and Asian), political minorities (liberal) and sexual minorities, defined as Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, and Transgender (LGBT). Perspectives on firearm ownership included an idea of gun culture as a component of (1) personal identity, (2) an expression of full citizenship and (3) necessary for self-protection. A strong subtheme was the intersection of minority group and firearm owner identities, creating a need for divergent social communities because of ideas on traditional gun culture. These communities are a safe place for individuals belonging to minority groups to escape negative external and internal group associations with firearms.ConclusionPerspectives on firearms and firearm ownership in the secondary analysis were heterogeneous and related to personal experiences, external and internal group pressures that influence individual behaviour. Understanding the breadth of perspectives on firearm ownership is imperative to engaging individuals for risk reduction. This study adds to the literature by expanding an understanding of the motivation for firearm ownership among diverse communities.

Neither mere flesh nor mere thing, the yellow woman, straddling the person-thing divide, applies tremendous pressures on politically treasured notions of agency, feminist enfleshment, and human ontology. — Anne Anlin Cheng, OrnamentalismIn this (apparently) very versatile piece of clothing, she [Michelle Zauner] smokes, sings karaoke, rides motorcycles, plays a killer guitar solo … and much more. Is there anything you can’t do in a hanbok?— Li-Wei Chu, commentary, From the Intercom IntroductionAnne Anlin Cheng describes the anomaly of being “the yellow woman”, women of Asian descent in Western contexts, by underlining the haunting effects of this artificial identity on multiple politically valent forms, especially through Asian women’s conceived ambivalent relations to subject- and object-hood. Due to the entangled constructiveness conjoining Asiatic identities with objects, things, and ornaments, Cheng calls for new ways to “accommodate the deeper, stranger, more intricate, and more ineffable (con)fusion between thingness and personness instantiated by Asiatic femininity and its unpredictable object life” (14). Following this call, this essay articulates a creative combination of José Esteban Muñoz’s disidentification and Avery Gordon’s haunting theory to account for some hauntingly disidentificatory ways that the performance of diaspora sensibilities reimagines Asian American life and femininity.This essay considers “Everybody Wants to Love You” (2016) (EWLY), the music video of Michelle Zauner’s solo musical project Japanese Breakfast, as a ghostly performance, which features a celebration of the Korean culture and identity of Zauner (Song). I analyse it as a site for identifying the confrontational moments and haunting effects of the diaspora sensibilities performed by Zauner who is in fact Jewish-Korean-American. Directed by Zauner and Adam Kolodny, the music video of EWLY features the persona that I call the Korean woman orchestrated by Zauner, singing in a restroom cubicle, eating a Dunkin Donuts sandwich, shotgunning a beer, shredding a Fender electric guitar on the hood of a truck, riding a motorcycle with her queer lover, and partying with a crowd all in the traditional Korean attire hanbok that used to belong to her late mother. The story ends with Zauner waking up on a bench with a hangover and fleeing from the scene, conjuring up a journey of self-discovery, self-healing, and self-liberation through multiple sites and scenes of everyday life.What I call a ghostly performance is concerned with Avery Gordon’s creative intervention of haunting as a method of social analysis to study the intricate lingering impact of ghostly matters from the past on the present. Jacques Derrida develops hauntology to describe how Marxism continues to haunt Western societies even after its so-called failure. It refers to a status that something is neither present nor absent. Gordon develops haunting as a way of knowing and a method of knowledge production, “forcing a confrontation, forking the future and the past” (xvii). A ghostly performance is thus where ghostly matters are mobilised in “confrontational moments”:when things are not in their assigned places, when the cracks and rigging are exposed, when the people who are meant to be invisible show up without any sign of leaving, when disturbed feelings cannot be put away, when something else, something different from before, seems like it must be done. (xvi)The interstitiality that transgresses and reconfigures the geographical and temporal borders of nation, culture, and Eurocentric discourses of progression is important for understanding the diverse experiences of diaspora sensibilities as critical double consciousness (Dayal 48, 53). As Gordon suggests, confrontational moments force us to confront and expose the interstitial state of objects, subjects, feelings, and conditions. Hence, to understand this study identifies the confrontational moments in Zauner’s performance as a method to identify and deconstruct the triggering moments of diaspora sensibilities.While deconstructing the ghostly performances of diaspora sensibilities, the essay also adopts an object-oriented approach to serve as a focused entry point. Not only does this approach designate a more focused scope with regard to applying Gordon’s hauntology and Muñoz’s disidentification theory, it also taps into a less attended territory of object theories such as Graham Harman’s and Ian Bogost’s object-oriented ontology due to the overlooking of the relationship between objects and racialisation that is much explored in Asian American and critical race and ethnic studies (Shomura). Moreover, while diaspora as, or not as, an object of study has been a contested topic (e.g., Axel; Cho), the objects of diaspora have been less studied.This essay elaborates on two ghostly matters: the hanbok and the manicured nails. It uncovers two haunting effects throughout the analysis: the conjuring-up of the Korean diaspora and the troubling of everyday post-racial America. By defying the objectification of Asian bodies with objects of diaspora and refusing to assimilate into the American nightlife, Zauner’s Korean woman persona haunts a multiculturalist post-racial America that fails to recognise the specificities and historicity of Korean America and performs an alternative reality. Disidentificatory ghostly performance therefore, I suggest, thrives on confrontations between the past and the present while gesturing toward the futurities of alternative Americas. Mobilising the critical lenses of disidentification and ghostly performance, finally, I aver that disidentificatory ghostly performances have great potential for envisioning a better politics of performing and representing Asian bodies through the ghostly play of haunting objects/ghostly matters.The Embodied (Objects) and the Disembodied (Ghosts) of DisidentificationThe sonic-visual lifeworld constructed in the music video of EWLY is, first of all, a cultural public sphere, through which social norms are contested, reimagined, and reconfigured. A cultural public sphere reveals the imbricated relations between the political, the public, and the personal as contested through affective (aesthetic and emotional) communications (McGuigan 15). Considering the sonic-visual landscape as a cultural public sphere foregrounds two dimensions of Gordon’s hauntology theory: the psychological and the sociopolitical states. The emphasis on its affective communicative capacities enables the psychological reach of a cultural production. Meanwhile, the multilayered articulation of the political, the public, and the personal shows the inner-network of acts of haunting even when they happen chiefly on the sociopolitical level. What is crucial about cultural public spheres for minoritarian subjects is the creative space offered for negotiating one’s position in capacious and flexible ways that non-cultural publics may not allow. One of the ways is through imagination and disputation (McGuigan 16). The idea that imagination and disputation may cause a temporal and spatial disjunction with the present is important for Muñoz’s theorisation of disidentification. With such disjunction, Muñoz believes, queer of colour performances create future-oriented visions and coterminous temporality of the present and the future. These future-oriented visions and the coterminous temporality can be thought through disidentifications, which Muñoz identifies asa performative mode of tactical recognition that various minoritarian subjects employ in an effort to resist the oppressive and normalizing discourse of dominant ideology. Disidentification resists the interpellating call of ideology that fixes a subject within the state power apparatus. It is a reformatting of self within the social. It is a third term that resists the binary of identification and counteridentification. (97)Disidentification offers a method to identify specific moments of imagination and disputation and moments of temporal and spatial disjunction. The most distinct example of the co-nature of imagination and disputation residing in the EWLY lifeworld is the persona of the Korean woman orchestrated by Zauner, as she intrudes into the everyday field of American life in a hanbok, such as a bar, a basketball court, and a convenience store. Gordon would call these moments “confrontational moments” (xvi). When performers don’t perform in ways they are supposed to perform, when they don’t operate objects in ways they are supposed to operate, when they don’t mobilise feelings in ways they are supposed to feel, they resist and disidentify with “the oppressive and normalizing discourse of dominant ideology” (Muñoz 97).In addition to Muñoz’s disidentification and Gordon’s confrontational moments, I adopt an object-oriented approach to guide my analysis of disidentificatory ghostly performances. Object theory departs from objects and matters to rediscover identity and experience. My object-oriented approach follows new materialism more closely than object-oriented ontology because it is less about debating the ontology of Asian American experiences through the lens of objects. Instead, it is more about how re-orienting our attention towards the formation and operation of objecthood reveals and reconfigures the vexed articulation between Asian American experiences and racialised objectification. To this end, my oriented-object approach aligns particularly well with politically engaged frameworks such as Jane Bennett’s vital materialism and Eunjung Kim’s ethics of objects.Taking an object-oriented approach in inquiring Asian American identities could be paradoxically intervening because “Asian Americans have been excluded, exploited, and treated as capital because they have been more closely associated to nonhuman objects than to human subjects” (Shomura). Furthermore, this objectification is doubly performed onto the bodies of Asian American women due to the Orientalist conflations of Asia as feminine (Huang 187). Therefore, applying object theory in the case of EWLY requires special attention to the interplay between subject- and object-hood and the line between objecthood and objectification. To avoid the risk of objectification when exploring the objecthood of ghostly matters, I caution against an objects-define-subjects chain of signification and instead suggest a subjects-operate-objects route of inquiry by attending to both the haunting effects of objects and how subjects mobilise such haunting effects in their performance. From a new materialist perspective, it is also important to disassociate problems of objectification from exploration of objecthood (Kim) while excavating the world-making abilities of objects (Bennett). For diasporic peoples, it means to see objects as affective and nostalgic vessels, such as toys, food, family photos, attire, and personal items (e.g., Oum), where traumas of displacement can be stored and rehearsed (Turan 54).What is revealing from a racialised subject-object relationship is what Christopher Bush calls “the ethnicity of things”: things can have ethnicity, an identification that hinges on the articulation that “thingliness can be constituted in ways analogous and related to structures of racialization” (85). This object-oriented approach to inquiry can expose the artificial nature of the affinity between Asian bodies and certain objects, behind which is a confession of naturalised racial order of signification. One way to disrupt this chain of signification is to excavate the haunting objects that disidentify with the norms of the present, that conjure up what the present wants to be done. This “something-to-be-done” characteristic is critical to acts of haunting (Gordon xvii). Such disruptive performances are what I term as “disidentificatory ghostly performances”, connecting the embodied objects with Gordon’s disembodied ghosts through the lens of Muñoz’s disidentificatory reading with a two-fold impact: first exposing such artificial affinity and then suggesting alternative ways of knowing.In what follows, I expand upon two haunting objects/ghostly matters: the manicured nails and the hanbok. I contend that Zauner operates these haunting objects to embody the “something-to-be-done” characteristic by curating uncomfortable, confrontational moments, where the constituted affinity between Koreanness/Asianness and anomaly is instantiated and unsettled in multiple snippets of the mundane post-racial, post-globalisation world.What Can the Korean Woman (Not) Do with Those Nails and in That Hanbok?The hanbok that Zauner wears throughout the music video might be the single most powerful haunting object in the story. This authentic hanbok belonged to Zauner’s late mother who wore it to her wedding. Dressing in the hanbok while navigating the nightlife, it becomes a mediated, trans-temporal experience for both Zauner and her mother. A ghostly journey, you could call it. The hanbok then becomes a ghostly matter that haunts both the Orientalist gaze and the grieving Zauner. This journey could be seen as a process of dealing with personal loss, a process of “reckoning with ghosts” (Gordon 190). The division between the personal and the public, the historical and the present cease to exist as linear and clear-cut forces. The important role of ghosts in the performance are the efforts of historicising and specifying the persona of the Korean woman, which is a strategy for minoritarian performers to resist “the pull of reductive multicultural pluralism” (Muñoz 147). These ghostly matters haunt a pluralist multiculturalist post-racial America that refuses to see minor specificities and historicity.The Korean woman in an authentic hanbok, coupled with other objects of Korean roots, such as a traditional hairdo and seemingly exotic makeup, may invite the Orientalist gaze or the assumption that Zauner is self-commodifying and self-fetishising Korean culture, risking what Cheng calls “Oriental female objectification” operating through “the lenses of commodity and sexual fetishism” (14). However, she “fails” to do any of these. The ways Zauner acts in the hanbok manifests a self-negotiation with her Korean identity through disidentificatory sensibilities with racial fetishism. For example, in various scenes, the Korean woman appears to be drunk in a bar, gorging a sandwich, shotgunning a beer, smoking in a restroom cubicle, messing with strangers in a basketball court, rocking on a truck, and falling asleep on a bench. Some may describe what she does as abnormal, discomforting, and even disgusting in a traditional Korean garment which is usually worn on formal occasions. The Korean woman not only subverts her traditional Koreanness but also disidentifies with what the Asian fetish requires of Asian bodies: obedient, well-behaved model minority or the hypersexualised dragon lady (e.g., Hsu; Shimizu). Zauner’s performance foregrounds the sentimental, the messy, the frenetic, the aggressive, and the carnivalesque as essential qualities and sensibilities of the Korean woman. These rarely visible figurations of Asian femininities speak to the normalised public disappearance of “unwanted” sides of Asian bodies.Wavering public disappearance is a crucial haunting effect. The public disappearance is an “organized system of repression” (Gordon 72) and a “state-sponsored procedure for producing ghosts to harrowingly haunt a population into submission” (115). While the journey of EWLY evolves through ups and downs, the Korean woman does not maintain the ephemeral joy and takes offence at the people and surroundings now and then, such as at an arcade in the bar, at some basketball players, or at the audience or the camera operator. The performed disaffection and the conflicts substantiate a theory of “positive perversity” through which Asian American women claim the representation of their sexuality and desires (Shimizu), engendering a strong and visible presence of the ghostly matters operated by the Korean woman. This noticeable arrival of bodies disorients how things are arranged (Ahmed 163), revealing and disrupting whiteness, which functions as a habit and a background to actions (149). The confrontational performances of the encounters between Zauner and others cast a critique of the racial politics of disappearing by reifying disappearing into confrontational moments in the everyday post-racial world.What is also integral to Zauner’s antagonistic performance of wavering public disappearing and failure of “Oriental female objectification” is a punk strategy of negativity through an aesthetic of nihilism and a mediation of performing objects. For example, in addition to the traditional hairdo that goes with her makeup, Zauner also wears a nose ring; in addition to partying with a crowd, she adopts a moshing style of dancing, being carried over people’s heads in the hanbok. All these, in addition to her disaffectionate, aggressive, and impolite body language, express a negative punk aesthetics. Muñoz describes such a negative punk aesthetics as an energy that can be described “as chaotic, as creating a life without rhyme or reason, as quintessentially self-destructive” (97). What lies at the heart of this punk dystopia is the desire for “something else”, something “not the present time or place” (Muñoz). Through this desire for impossible time and place, utopian is reimagined, a race riot, in Mimi Thi Nguyen’s term.On the other hand, the manicured fingernails are also a major operating force, reminiscent of Korean American immigrant history along with the racialised labor relations that have marked Korean bodies as an alien anomaly (Liu). With “Japanese Breakfast” being written on the screen in neon pink with some dazzling effect, the music video begins in a warm tone. The story begins with Zauner selecting EWLY with her finger on a karaoke operation screen, the first of many shots on her carefully manicured nails, decorated with transparent nail extensions, sparkly ornaments, and hanging fine chains. These nails conjure up the nail salon business in the US that heavily depended on immigrant labor and Korean women immigrants have made significant economic contributions through the manicure business. In particular, differently from Los Angeles where nail salons have been predominantly Vietnamese and Chinese owned, Korean women immigrants in the 1980s were the first ones to open nail salons in New York City and led to the rapid growth of the business (Kang 51). The manicured nails first of all conjure up these recent histories associated with the nail salon business.Moreover, these fingernails haunt post-racial and post-globalisation America by revealing and subverting the invisible, normalised racial and ethnic nature of the labor and objects associated with fingernails cosmetic treatment. Ghostly matters inform “a method of knowledge production and a way of writing that could represent the damage and the haunting of the historical alternatives” (Gordon xvii). They function as a reminder of the damage that seems forgotten or normalised in modern societies and as an alternative embodiment of what modern societies could have become. In the universe of EWLY, the fingernails become a forceful ghostly matter by reminding us of the damage done onto Korean bodies by fixing them as service performers instead customers. The nail salon business as performed by immigrant labor has been a business of “buying and selling of deference and attentiveness”, where white customers come to exercise their privilege while not wanting anything associated with Koreaness or Otherness (Kang 134). However, as a haunting force, the fingernails subvert such labor relations by acting as a versatile agent operating varied objects, such as a karaoke machine, cigarettes, a sandwich, a Fender guitar, and a can of beer. Through such operating, an alternative labor relation is formed. This alternative is not entirely without roots. As promoted in Japanese Breakfast’s Instagram (@jbrekkie), Zauner’s look was styled by a nail artist who appears to be a white female, Celeste Marie Welch from the DnA Salon based in Philadelphia. This is a snippet of a field that is now a glocalised industry, where the racial and gender makeup is more diverse. It is increasingly easier to see non-Asian and non-female nail salon workers, among whom white nail salon workers outnumbered any other non-Asian racial/ethnic groups (Preeti et al. 23). EWLY’s alternative worldmaking is not only a mere reflection of the changing makeup of an industry but also calling out the societal tendency of forgetting histories. To be haunted, as Gordon explains, is to be “tied to historical and social effects” (190). The ghostly matters of the manicure industry haunt its workers, artists, consumers, and businesspeople of a past that prescribes racialised labor divisions, consumption relations, and the historical and social effects inflicted on the Othered bodies. Performing with the manicured nails, Zauner challenges now supposedly multicultural manicure culture by fusing oppositional, trans-temporal identities into the persona of the Korean woman. Not only does she conjure up the racialised labor relations as the child of a Korean mother, she also disidentifies with the worker identity of early Korean women immigrants as a consumer who receives service from an artist who would otherwise never perform such labor in the past.Conclusion: Toward a Disidentificatory Ghostly PerformanceThis essay suggests seeing the disidentificatory ghostly performance of the Korean woman as an artistic incarnation of her lived Othering experience, which Zauner may or may not navigate on an everyday basis. As Zauner lives through what looks like a typical Friday night in an American town, the journey represents an interrogation of the present and the past. When the ghostly matters move through public spaces – when she drinks in a bar, walks down the street, and parties with a crowd – the Korean woman neither conforms to what she is expected to do in a hanbok nor does she get fully assimilated into this American nightlife.Derrida avers that haunting, repression, and hegemony are structurally interlocked and that “haunting belongs to the structure of every hegemony” because “hegemony still organizes the repression” (46). This is why the creative capacity of disidentificatory performances is crucial for acts of haunting and for historically repressed groups of people. Conjoining the future-oriented performative mode of disidentification and the forking of the past and the present by ghostly performances, disidentificatory ghostly performances enable not only people of colour but also particularly diasporic populations of colour to challenge racial chains of signification and orchestrate future-oriented visions, where time is of the most compassion, at its utmost capacity.ReferencesAhmed, Sara. “A Phenomenology of Whiteness.” Feminist Theory 8.2 (2007): 149–168.Axel, Brian Keith. “Time and Threat: Questioning the Production of the Diaspora as an Object of Study.” History and Anthropology 9.4 (1996): 415–443.Bennett, Jane. Vibrant Matter: A Political Ecology of Things. Durham: Duke UP, 2010.Bogost, Ian. Alien Phenomenology, or, What It’s Like to Be a Thing. Minneapolis: U of Minnesota P, 2012.Bush, Christopher. “The Ethnicity of Things in America’s Lacquered Age.” Representations 99.1 (2007): 74–98. Cheng, Anne Anlin. Ornamentalism. 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Background: Transgender and nonbinary (TNB) students commonly experience identity-based harassment, which is associated with poorer mental health, and TNB students of color may experience harassment targeting gender, race/ethnicity, and other identities. Applying an intersectional lens to minority stress theory suggests that different forms of identity-based harassment that target different identities are interconnected. However, few studies address intersecting forms of bias experienced by TNB students of color. Purpose: The purpose of this study is to examine the interplay of racism and transphobia among TNB students by comparing experiences of racist and transphobic harassment across seven racial/ethnic groups and examining the effects of these forms of identity-based harassment on the mental health of TNB students of color. Participants: Participants were drawn from a large national sample of LGBTQ students who were enrolled in secondary school during the 2018–2019 school year. The study sample consists of all those who were TNB ( N = 6,795). The majority of the sample identified as transgender (68.7%), and just under a third identified as nonbinary, but not as transgender (31.3%). The majority were White (71.3%), and approximately a third identified as gay or lesbian (33.7%). Research Design: This quantitative study employed a multivariate analysis of covariance to examine differences in frequency of racist and transphobic harassment across racial/ethnic groups. Hierarchical linear regressions were used to examine the main effects of harassment, as well as interaction effects between these forms of harassment, on depression and self-esteem among TNB students of color. Results: Frequencies of race-based harassment were generally similar for all students of color groups and lowest for White TNB students. Frequencies of gender-based harassment were relatively higher for Native American TNB students and lower for Black and Asian American/Pacific Islander TNB students. Among TNB students of color, each form of harassment was associated with greater depression and lower self-esteem. We did not observe a significant interaction between these forms of harassment. Conclusions: Despite some differences between groups, many TNB students of color experience both racist and transphobic harassment. Experiencing both of these forms of harassment is associated with poorer mental health outcomes than experiencing one. School professionals must consider these multiple forms of bias in supporting their students at school.

This paper argues that artist Dope Saint Jude is transforming South African hip-hop by queering a genre that has predominantly been male and heteronormative. Specifically, I analyse the opening skit of her music video “Keep in Touch” in order to unpack the ways which she revives Gayle, a gay language that adopted double-coded forms of speech during the apartheid era—a context in which homosexuals were criminalised. The use of Gayle and spaces close to the city centre of Cape Town (such as Salt River and Woodstock) speaks to the city as it was before it was transformed by the decline of industries due to the country’s adoption of neoliberal economics and, more recently, by the gentrification of these spaces. Dope Saint Jude therefore reclaims these city spaces through her use of gay modes of speech that have a long history in Cape Town and by positioning her work as hip-hop, which has been popular in the city for well over two decades. Her inclusion of transgender MC and DJ Angel Ho pushes the boundaries of hegemonic and binary conceptions of gender identity even further. In essence, Dope Saint Jude is transforming local hip-hop in a context that is shaped significantly by US cultural imperialism. The artist is also transforming our perspective of spaces that have been altered by neoliberal economics.Setting the SceneDope Saint Jude (DSJ) is a queer MC from Elsies River, a working class township located on Cape Town's Cape Flats in South Africa. Elsies River was defined as a “coloured” neighbourhood under the apartheid state's Group Areas Act, which segregated South Africans racially. With the aid of the Population Registration Act, citizens were classified, not merely along the lines of white, Asian, or black—black subjects were also divided into further categories. The apartheid state also distinguished between black and “coloured” subjects. Michael MacDonald contends that segregation “ordained blacks to be inferior to whites; apartheid cast them to be indelibly different” (11). Apartheid declared “African claims in South Africa to be inferior to white claims” and effectively claimed that black subjects “belonged elsewhere, in societies of their own, because their race was different” (ibid). The term “coloured” defined people as “mixed race” to separate communities that might otherwise have identified as black in the broad and inclusive sense (Erasmus 16). Racial categorisation was used to create a racial hierarchy with white subjects at the top of that hierarchy and those classified as black receiving the least resources and benefits. This frustrated attempts to establish broad alliances of black struggles against apartheid. It is in this sense that race is socially and politically constructed and continues to have currency, despite the fact that biologically essentialist understandings of race have been discredited (Yudell 13–14). Thanks to apartheid town planning and resource allocation, many townships on the Cape Flats were poverty-stricken and plagued by gang violence (Salo 363). This continues to be the case because post-apartheid South Africa's embrace of neoliberal economics failed to address racialised class inequalities significantly (Haupt, Static 6–8). This is the '90s context in which socially conscious hip-hop crews, such as Prophets of da City or Black Noise, came together. They drew inspiration from Black Consciousness philosophy via their exposure to US hip-hop crews such as Public Enemy in order to challenge apartheid policies, including their racial interpellation as “coloured” as distinct from the more inclusive category, black (Haupt, “Black Thing” 178). Prophets of da City—whose co-founding member, Shaheen Ariefdien, also lived in Elsies River—was the first South African hip-hop outfit to record an album. Whilst much of their work was performed in English, they quickly transformed the genre by rapping in non-standard varieties of Afrikaans and by including MCs who rap in African languages (ibid). They therefore succeeded in addressing key issues related to race, language, and class disparities in relation to South Africa's transition to democracy (Haupt, “Black Thing”; Haupt, Stealing Empire). However, as is the case with mainstream US hip-hop, specifically gangsta rap (Clay 149), South African hip-hop has been largely dominated by heterosexual men. This includes the more commercial hip-hop scene, which is largely perceived to be located in Johannesburg, where male MCs like AKA and Cassper Nyovest became celebrities. However, certain female MCs have claimed the genre, notably EJ von Lyrik and Burni Aman who are formerly of Godessa, the first female hip-hop crew to record and perform locally and internationally (Haupt, Stealing Empire 166; Haupt, “Can a Woman in Hip-Hop”). DSJ therefore presents the exception to a largely heteronormative and male-dominated South African music industry and hip-hop scene as she transforms it with her queer politics. While queer hip-hop is not new in the US (Pabón and Smalls), this is new territory for South Africa. Writing about the US MC Jean Grae in the context of a “male-dominated music industry and genre,” Shanté Paradigm Smalls contends,Heteronormativity blocks the materiality of the experiences of Black people. Yet, many Black people strive for a heteronormative effect if not “reality”. In hip hop, there is a particular emphasis on maintaining the rigidity of categories, even if those categories fail [sic]. (87) DSJ challenges these rigid categories. Keep in TouchDSJ's most visible entry onto the media landscape to date has been her appearance in an H&M recycling campaign with British Sri Lankan artist MIA (H&M), some fashion shoots, her new EP—Reimagine (Dope Saint Jude)—and recent Finnish, US and French tours as well as her YouTube channel, which features her music videos. As the characters’ theatrical costumes suggest, “Keep in Touch” is possibly the most camp and playful music video she has produced. It commences somewhat comically with Dope Saint Jude walking down Salt River main road to a public telephone, where she and a young woman in pig tails exchange dirty looks. Salt River is located at the foot of Devil's Peak not far from Cape Town's CBD. Many factories were located there, but the area is also surrounded by low-income housing, which was designated a “coloured” area under apartheid. After apartheid, neighbourhoods such as Salt River, Woodstock, and the Bo-Kaap became increasingly gentrified and, instead of becoming more inclusive, many parts of Cape Town continued to be influenced by policies that enable racialised inequalities. Dope Saint Jude calls Angel Ho: DSJ: Awêh, Angie! Yoh, you must check this kak sturvy girl here by the pay phone. [Turns to the girl, who walks away as she bursts a chewing gum bubble.] Ja, you better keep in touch. Anyway, listen here, what are you wys?Angel Ho: Ah, just at the salon getting my hair did. What's good? DSJ: Wanna catch on kak today?Angel Ho: Yes, honey. But, first, let me Gayle you this. By the jol by the art gallery, this Wendy, nuh. This Wendy tapped me on the shoulder and wys me, “This is a place of decorum.”DSJ: What did she wys?Angel Ho: De-corum. She basically told me this is not your house. DSJ: I know you told that girl to keep in touch!Angel Ho: Yes, Mama! I'm Paula, I told that bitch, “Keep in touch!” [Points index finger in the air.](Saint Jude, Dope, “Keep in Touch”)Angel Ho's name is a play on the male name Angelo and refers to the trope of the ho (whore) in gangsta rap lyrics and in music videos that present objectified women as secondary to male, heterosexual narratives (Sharpley-Whiting 23; Collins 27). The queering of Angelo, along with Angel Ho’s non-binary styling in terms of hair, make-up, and attire, appropriates a heterosexist, sexualised stereotype of women in order to create room for a gender identity that operates beyond heteronormative male-female binaries. Angel Ho’s location in a hair salon also speaks to stereotypical associations of salons with women and gay subjects. In a discussion of gender stereotypes about hair salons, Kristen Barber argues that beauty work has traditionally been “associated with women and with gay men” and that “the body beautiful has been tightly linked to the concept of femininity” (455–56). During the telephonic exchange, Angel Ho and Dope Saint Jude code-switch between standard and non-standard varieties of English and Afrikaans, as the opening appellation, “Awêh,” suggests. In this context, the term is a friendly greeting, which intimates solidarity. “Sturvy” means pretentious, whilst “kak” means shit, but here it is used to qualify “sturvy” and means that the girl at the pay phone is very pretentious or “full of airs.” To be “wys” means to be wise, but it can also mean that you are showing someone something or educating them. The meanings of these terms shift, depending on the context. The language practices in this skit are in line with the work of earlier hip-hop crews, such as Prophets of da City and Brasse vannie Kaap, to validate black, multilingual forms of speech and expression that challenge the linguistic imperialism of standard English and Afrikaans in South Africa, which has eleven official languages (Haupt, “Black Thing”; Haupt, Stealing Empire; Williams). Henry Louis Gates’s research on African American speech varieties and literary practices emerging from the repressive context of slavery is essential to understanding hip-hop’s language politics. Hip-hop artists' multilingual wordplay creates parallel discursive universes that operate both on the syntagmatic axis of meaning-making and the paradigmatic axis (Gates 49; Haupt, “Stealing Empire” 76–77). Historically, these discursive universes were those of the slave masters and the slaves, respectively. While white hegemonic meanings are produced on the syntagmatic axis (which is ordered and linear), black modes of speech as seen in hip-hop word play operate on the paradigmatic axis, which is connotative and non-linear (ibid). Distinguishing between Signifyin(g) / Signification (upper case, meaning black expression) and signification (lower case, meaning white dominant expression), he argues that “the signifier ‘Signification’ has remained identical in spelling to its white counterpart to demonstrate [. . .] that a simultaneous, but negated, parallel discursive (ontological, political) universe exists within the larger white discursive universe” (Gates 49). The meanings of terms and expressions can change, depending on the context and manner in which they are used. It is therefore the shared experiences of speech communities (such as slavery or racist/sexist oppression) that determine the negotiated meanings of certain forms of expression. Gayle as a Parallel Discursive UniverseDSJ and Angel Ho's performance of Gayle takes these linguistic practices further. Viewers are offered points of entry into Gayle via the music video’s subtitles. We learn that Wendy is code for a white person and that to keep in touch means exactly the opposite. Saint Jude explains that Gayle is a very fun queer language that was used to kind of mask what people were saying [. . .] It hides meanings and it makes use of women's names [. . . .] But the thing about Gayle is it's constantly changing [. . .] So everywhere you go, you kind of have to pick it up according to the context that you're in. (Ovens, Saint Jude and Haupt)According to Kathryn Luyt, “Gayle originated as Moffietaal [gay language] in the coloured gay drag culture of the Western Cape as a form of slang amongst Afrikaans-speakers which over time, grew into a stylect used by gay English and Afrikaans-speakers across South Africa” (Luyt 8; Cage 4). Given that the apartheid state criminalised homosexuals, Gayle was coded to evade detection and to seek out other members of this speech community (Luyt 8). Luyt qualifies the term “language” by arguing, “The term ‘language’ here, is used not as a constructed language with its own grammar, syntax, morphology and phonology, but in the same way as linguists would discuss women’s language, as a way of speaking, a kind of sociolect” (Luyt 8; Cage 1). However, the double-coded nature of Gayle allows one to think of it as creating a parallel discursive universe as Gates describes it (49). Whereas African American and Cape Flats discursive practices function parallel to white, hegemonic discourses, gay modes of speech run parallel to heteronormative communication. Exclusion and MicroaggressionsThe skit brings both discursive practices into play by creating room for one to consider that DSJ queers a male-dominated genre that is shaped by US cultural imperialism (Haupt, Stealing Empire 166) as a way of speaking back to intersectional forms of marginalisation (Crenshaw 1244), which are created by “white supremacist capitalist patriarchy” (hooks 116). This is significant in South Africa where “curative rape” of lesbians and other forms of homophobic violence are prominent (cf. Gqola; Hames; Msibi). Angel Ho's anecdote conveys a sense of the extent to which black individuals are subject to scrutiny. Ho's interpretation of the claim that the gallery “is a place of decorum” is correct: it is not Ho's house. Black queer subjects are not meant to feel at home or feel a sense of ownership. This functions as a racial microaggression: “subtle insults (verbal, nonverbal, and/or visual) directed toward people of color, often automatically or unconsciously” (Solorzano, Ceja, and Yosso 60). This speaks to DSJ's use of Salt River, Woodstock, and Bo-Kaap for the music video, which features black queer bodies in performance—all of these spaces are being gentrified, effectively pushing working class people of colour out of the city (cf. Didier, Morange, and Peyroux; Lemanski). Gustav Visser explains that gentrification has come to mean a unit-by-unit acquisition of housing which replaces low-income residents with high-income residents, and which occurs independent of the structural condition, architecture, tenure or original cost level of the housing (although it is usually renovated for or by the new occupiers). (81–82) In South Africa this inequity plays out along racial lines because its neoliberal economic policies created a small black elite without improving the lives of the black working class. Instead, the “new African bourgeoisie, because it shares racial identities with the bulk of the poor and class interests with white economic elites, is in position to mediate the reinforcing cleavages between rich whites and poor blacks without having to make more radical changes” (MacDonald 158). In a news article about a working class Salt River family of colour’s battle against an eviction, Christine Hogg explains, “Gentrification often means the poor are displaced as the rich move in or buildings are upgraded by new businesses. In Woodstock and Salt River both are happening at a pace.” Angel Ho’s anecdote, as told from a Woodstock hair salon, conveys a sense of what Woodstock’s transformation from a coloured, working class Group Area to an upmarket, trendy, and arty space would mean for people of colour, including black, queer subjects. One could argue that this reading of the video is undermined by DSJ’s work with global brand H&M. Was she was snared by neoliberal economics? Perhaps, but one response is that the seeds of any subculture’s commercial co-option lie in the fact it speaks through commodities (for example clothing, make-up, CDs, vinyl, or iTunes / mp3 downloads (Hebdige 95; Haupt, Stealing Empire 144–45). Subcultures have a window period in which to challenge hegemonic ideologies before they are delegitimated or commercially co-opted. Hardt and Negri contend that the means that extend the reach of corporate globalisation could be used to challenge it from within it (44–46; Haupt, Stealing Empire 26). DSJ utilises her H&M work, social media, the hip-hop genre, and international networks to exploit that window period to help mainstream black queer identity politics.ConclusionDSJ speaks back to processes of exclusion from the city, which was transformed by apartheid and, more recently, gentrification, by claiming it as a creative and playful space for queer subjects of colour. She uses Gayle to lay claim to the city as it has a long history in Cape Town. In fact, she says that she is not reviving Gayle, but is simply “putting it on a bigger platform” (Ovens, Saint Jude, and Haupt). The use of subtitles in the video suggests that she wants to mainstream queer identity politics. Saint Jude also transforms hip-hop heteronormativity by queering the genre and by locating her work within the history of Cape hip-hop’s multilingual wordplay. ReferencesBarber, Kristin. “The Well-Coiffed Man: Class, Race, and Heterosexual Masculinity in the Hair Salon.” Gender and Society 22.4 (2008): 455–76.Cage, Ken. “An Investigation into the Form and Function of Language Used by Gay Men in South Africa.” Rand Afrikaans University: MA thesis, 1999.Clay, Andreana. “‘I Used to Be Scared of the Dick’: Queer Women of Color and Hip-Hop Masculinity.” Home Girls Make Some Noise: Hip Hop Feminism Anthology. Ed. Gwendolyn D. Pough, Elain Richardson, Aisha Durham, and Rachel Raimist. California: Sojourns, 2007.Collins, Patricia Hill. Black Sexual Politics: African Americans, Gender, and the New Racism. New York: Routledge, 2005. Crenshaw, Kimberle. “Mapping the Margins: Intersectionality, Identity Politics, and Violence against Women of Color”. Stanford Law Review 43.6 (1991): 1241–299.Didier, Sophie, Marianne Morange, and Elisabeth Peyroux. “The Adaptative Nature of Neoliberalism at the Local Scale: Fifteen Years of City Improvement Districts in Cape Town and Johannesburg.” Antipode 45.1 (2012): 121–39.Erasmus, Zimitri. “Introduction.” Coloured by History, Shaped by Place. Ed. Zimitri Erasmus. Cape Town: Kwela Books & SA History Online, 2001. Gates, Henry Louis. The Signifying Monkey: A Theory of Afro-American Literary Criticism. Oxford: Oxford UP, 1988.Gqola, Pumla Dineo. Rape: A South African Nightmare. Johannesburg: Jacana, 2015.Hames, Mary. “Violence against Black Lesbians: Minding Our Language.” Agenda 25.4 (2011): 87–91.Hardt, Michael, and Antonio Negri. Empire. London: Harvard UP, 2000.Haupt, Adam. “Can a Woman in Hip Hop Speak on Her Own Terms?” Africa Is a Country. 23 Mar. 2015. <http://africasacountry.com/2015/03/the-double-consciousness-of-burni-aman-can-a-woman-in-hip-hop-speak-on-her-own-terms/>.Haupt, Adam. Static: Race & Representation in Post-Apartheid Music, Media & Film. Cape Town: HSRC Press, 2012. Haupt, Adam. Stealing Empire: P2P, Intellectual Property and Hip-Hop Subversion. Cape Town: HSRC Press, 2008. Haupt, Adam. “Black Thing: Hip-Hop Nationalism, ‘Race’ and Gender in Prophets of da City and Brasse vannie Kaap.” Coloured by History, Shaped by Place. Ed. Zimitri Erasmus. Cape Town: Kwela Books & SA History Online, 2001. Hebdige, Dick. Subculture: The Meaning of Style. London: Routledge, 1979.Hogg, Christine. “In Salt River Gentrification Often Means Eviction: Family Set to Lose Their Home of 11 Years.” Ground Up. 15 June 2016. <http://www.groundup.org.za/article/salt-river-gentrification-often-means-eviction/>.hooks, bell. Outlaw: Culture: Resisting Representations. New York: Routledge, 1994.Lemanski, Charlotte. “Hybrid Gentrification in South Africa: Theorising across Southern and Northern Cities.” Urban Studies 51.14 (2014): 2943–60.Luyt, Kathryn. “Gay Language in Cape Town: A Study of Gayle – Attitudes, History and Usage.” University of Cape Town: MA thesis, 2014.MacDonald, Michael. Why Race Matters in South Africa. University of Kwazulu-Natal Press: Scottsville, 2006.Msibi, Thabo. “Not Crossing the Line: Masculinities and Homophobic Violence in South Africa”. Agenda. 23.80 (2009): 50–54.Pabón, Jessica N., and Shanté Paradigm Smalls. “Critical Intimacies: Hip Hop as Queer Feminist Pedagogy.” Women & Performance: A Journal of Feminist Theory (2014): 1–7.Salo, Elaine. “Negotiating Gender and Personhood in the New South Africa: Adolescent Women and Gangsters in Manenberg Township on the Cape Flats.” Journal of European Cultural Studies 6.3 (2003): 345–65.Solórzano, Daniel, Miguel Ceja, and Tara Yosso. “Critical Race Theory, Racial Microaggressions, and Campus Racial Climate: The Experiences of African American College Students.” Journal of Negro Education 69.1/2 (2000): 60–73.Sharpley-Whiting, T. Denean. Pimps Up, Ho’s Down: Hip Hop’s Hold on Young Black Women. New York: New York UP, 2007.Smalls, Shanté Paradigm. “‘The Rain Comes Down’: Jean Grae and Hip Hop Heteronormativity.” American Behavioral Scientist 55.1 (2011): 86–95.Visser, Gustav. “Gentrification: Prospects for Urban South African Society?” Acta Academica Supplementum 1 (2003): 79–104.Williams, Quentin E. “Youth Multilingualism in South Africa’s Hip-Hop Culture: a Metapragmatic Analysis.” Sociolinguistic Studies 10.1 (2016): 109–33.Yudell, Michael. “A Short History of the Race Concept.” Race and the Genetic Revolution: Science, Myth, and Culture. Ed. Sheldon Krimsky and Kathleen Sloan. New York: Columbia UP, 2011.InterviewsOvens, Neil, Dope Saint Jude, and Adam Haupt. One FM Radio interview. Cape Town. 21 Apr. 2016.VideosSaint Jude, Dope. “Keep in Touch.” YouTube. 23 Feb. 2015. <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w2ux9R839lE>. H&M. “H&M World Recycle Week Featuring M.I.A.” YouTube. 11 Apr. 2016. <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f7MskKkn2Jg>. MusicSaint Jude, Dope. Reimagine. 15 June 2016. <https://dopesaintjude.bandcamp.com/album/reimagine>.

A slash manip is a photo remix that montages visual signs from popular media with those from gay pornography, creating a new cultural artefact. Slash (see Russ) is a fannish practice that homoeroticises the bonds between male media characters and personalities—female pairings are categorised separately as ‘femslash’. Slash has been defined almost exclusively as a female practice. While fandom is indeed “women-centred” (Bury 2), such definitions have a tendency to exclude male contributions. Remix has been well acknowledged in discussions on slash, most notably video remix in relation to slash vids (Kreisinger). Non-written slash forms such as slash vids (see Russo) and slash fanart (see Dennis) have received increased attention in recent years. This article continues the tradition of moving beyond fiction by considering the non-written form of slash manips, yet to receive sustained scholarly attention. Speaking as a practitioner—my slash manips can be found here—I perform textual analysis from an aca–fan (academic and fan) position of two Merlin slash manips by male Tumblr artist wandsinhand. My textual analysis is influenced by Barthes’s use of image semiotics, which he applies to the advertising image. Barthes notes that “all images are polysemous”, that underlying their signifiers they imply “a ‘floating chain’ of signifieds, the reader able to choose some and ignore others” (274). That said, the advertising image, he argues, constructs an “undoubtedly intentional […] signification”, making it ideally suited for analysis (270). By supplementing my analysis with excerpts from two interviews I conducted with wandsinhand in February and April 2013 (quoted here with permission), I support my readings with respect to the artist’s stated ‘intentional reading’. I then contextualise these readings with respect to canon (Merlin) representations and gay pornography—via the chosen sexual acts/positions, bukkake and doggystyle, of the pornographic base models, as selected by the artist. This approach allows me to examine the photo remix qualities of slash manips with respect to the artist’s intentions as well as how artistic choices of inclusion function to anchor meaning in the works. I describe these choices as the ‘semiotic significance of selection’. Together the readings and interviews in this article help illustrate the value of this form and the new avenues it opens for slash scholars, such as consideration of photo remix and male production, and the importance of gay pornography to slash. My interviews also reveal, via the artist’s own assessment of the ‘value’ of his practice, a tendency to devalue or overlook the significance of this particular slash form, affirming a real need for further critical engagement with this under-examined practice. Slash Photo Remix: Famous Faces, Porny Bodies Lessig defines remix culture as based on an activity of “rip, mix and burn” (12–5); while Navas describes it as a “practice of cut/copy and paste” (159)—the latter being more applicable to photo remix. Whereas Lessig is concerned primarily with issues of copyright, Navas is interested in remix’s role in aesthetics and the political economy. Within fan studies, slash vids—a form of video remix—has been a topic of considerable academic interest in recent years. Slash manips—a form of photo or image remix—however, has not attracted the same degree of interest. Stasi’s description of slash as “a non-hierarchical, rich layering of genres” points to the usefulness of slash manips as an embodiment of the process of slash; whereby artists combine, blend and mutate graphic layers from popular media with those from gay pornography. Aesthetics and the slash manip process are central concerns of this article’s consideration of slash photo remix. Slash manips, or slash photo montage, use image manipulation software (Adobe Photoshop being the community standard, see wandsinhand’s tutorial) to layer the heads of male fictional characters from stills or promotional images with scenes—static or moving—from gay pornography. Once an artist has selected pornographic ‘base models’ anatomically suited to canon characters, these models are often then repositioned into the canon universe, which in the case of Merlin means a medieval setting. (Works not repositioned and without added details from canon are generally categorised as ‘male celebrity fakes’ rather than ‘slash manips’.) Stedman contends that while many fan studies scholars are interested in remix, “studies commonly focus on examples of remixed objects rather than the compositional strategies used by remix composers themselves” (107). He advocates moving beyond an exclusive consideration of “text-centred approaches” to also consider “practice-” and “composer-centred” approaches. Such approaches offer insight into “the detailed choices composers actually make when composing” (107). He refers to recognition of the skills required by a remix composer as “remix literacy” (108). This article’s consideration of the various choices and skills that go into the composition of slash manips—what I term the ‘semiotic significance of selection’—is explored with respect to wandsinhand’s practice, coupling my reading—informed by my experience as a practitioner—with the interpretations of the artist himself. Jenkins defines slash as “reaction against” constructions of male sexuality in both popular media and pornography (189). By their very nature, slash manips also make clear the oft-overlooked connections between slash and gay pornography, and in turn the contributions of gay male participants, who are well represented by the form. This contrasts with a tendency within scholarship to compare slash with heterosexual female forms, such as the romance genre (Salmon and Symons). Gay pornography plays a visible role in slash manips—and slash vids, which often remix scenes from popular media with gay cinema and pornography. Slash as Romance, Slash as Pornography Early scholarship on slash (see Russ; Lamb and Veith) defines it as a form of erotica or pornography, by and for women; a reductive definition that fails to take into account men’s contribution, yet one that many researchers continue to adopt today. As stated above, there has also been a tendency within scholarship to align the practice with heterosexual female forms such as the romance genre. Such a tendency is by and large due to theorisation of slash as heterosexual female fantasy—and concerned primarily with romance and intimacy rather than sex (see Woledge). Weinstein describes slash as more a “fascination with” than a “representation of” homosexual relationships (615); while MacDonald makes the point that homosexuality is not a major political motivator for slash (28–9). There is no refuting that slash—along with most fannish practice—is female dominated, ethnographic work and fandom surveys reveal that is the case. However there is great need for research into male production of slash, particularly how such practices might challenge reigning definitions and assumptions of the practice. In similar Japanese practices, for example, gay male opposition to girls’ comics (shōjo) depicting love between ‘pretty boys’ (bishōunen) has been well documented (see Hori)—Men’s Love (or bara) is a subgenre of Boys’ Love (or shōnen’ai) predominately created by gay men seeking a greater connection with the lived reality of gay life (Lunsing). Dennis finds male slash fanart producers more committed to muscular representations and depiction of graphic male/male sex when compared with female-identifying artists (14, 16). He also observes that male fanart artists have a tendency of “valuing same-sex desire without a heterosexual default and placing it within the context of realistic gay relationships” (11). I have observed similar differences between male and female-identifying slash manip artists. Female-identifying Nicci Mac, for example, will often add trousers to her donor bodies, recoding them for a more romantic context. By contrast, male-identifying mythagowood is known for digitally enlarging the penises and rectums of his base models, exaggerating his work’s connection to the pornographic and the macabre. Consider, for example, mythagowood’s rationale for digitally enlarging and importing ‘lips’ for Sam’s (Supernatural) rectum in his work Ass-milk: 2012, which marks the third anniversary of the original: Originally I wasn’t going to give Sammy’s cunt any treatment (before I determined the theme) but when assmilk became the theme I had to go find a good set of lips to slap on him and I figured, it’s been three years, his hole is going to be MUCH bigger. (personal correspondence, used with permission) While mythagowood himself cautions against gendered romance/pornography slash arguments—“I find it annoying that people attribute certain specific aspects of my work to something ‘only a man’ would make.” (ibid.)—gay pornography occupies an important place in the lives of gay men as a means for entertainment, community engagement and identity-construction (see McKee). As one of the only cultural representations available to gay men, Fejes argues that gay pornography plays a crucial role in defining gay male desire and identity. This is confirmed by an Internet survey conducted by Duggan and McCreary that finds 98% of gay participants reporting exposure to pornographic material in the 30-day period prior to the survey. Further, the underground nature of gay pornographic film (see Dyer) aligns it with slash as a subcultural practice. I now analyse two Merlin slash manips with respect to the sexual positions of the pornographic base models, illustrating how gay pornography genres and ideologies referenced through these works enforce their intended meaning, as defined by the artist. A sexual act such as bukkake, as wandsinhand astutely notes, acts as a universal sign and “automatically generates a narrative for the image without anything really needing to be detailed”. Barthes argues that such a “relation between thing signified and image signifying in analogical representation” is unlike language, which has a much more ‘arbitrary’ relationship between signifier and signified (272). Bukkake and the Assertion of Masculine Power in Merlin Merlin (2008–12) is a BBC reimagining of the Arthurian legend that focuses on the coming-of-age of Arthur and his close bond with his manservant Merlin, who keeps his magical identity secret until Arthur’s final stand in the iconic Battle of Camlann. The homosexual potential of Merlin and Arthur’s story—and of magic as a metaphor for homosexuality—is something slash fans were quick to recognise. During question time at the first Merlin cast appearance at the London MCM Expo in October 2008—just one month after the show’s pilot first aired—a fan asked Morgan and James, who portray Merlin and Arthur, is Merlin “meant to be a love story between Arthur and Merlin?” James nods in jest. Wandsinhand, who is most active in the Teen Wolf (2011–present) fandom, has produced two Merlin slash manips to date, a 2013 Merlin/Arthur and a 2012 Arthur/Percival, both untitled. The Merlin/Arthur manip (see Figure 1) depicts Merlin bound and on his knees, Arthur ejaculating across his face and on his chest. Merlin is naked while Arthur is partially clothed in chainmail and armour. They are both bruised and dirty, Arthur’s injuries suggesting battle given his overall appearance, while Merlin’s suggesting abuse, given his subordinate position. The setting appears to be the royal stables, where we know Merlin spends much of his time mucking out Arthur’s horses. I am left to wonder if perhaps Merlin did not carry out this duty to Arthur’s satisfaction, and is now being punished for it; or if Arthur has returned from battle in need of sexual gratification and the endorsement of power that comes from debasing his manservant. Figure 1: wandsinhand, Untitled (Merlin/Arthur), 2013, photo montage. Courtesy the artist. Both readings are supported by Arthur’s ‘spent’ expression of disinterest or mild curiosity, while Merlin’s face emotes pain: crying and squinting through the semen obscuring his vision. The artist confirms this reading in our interview: “Arthur is using his pet Merlin to relieve some stress; Merlin of course not being too pleased about the aftermath, but obedient all the same.” The noun ‘pet’ evokes the sexual connotations of Merlin’s role as Arthur’s personal manservant, while also demoting Merlin even further than usual. He is, in Arthur’s eyes, less than human, a sexual plaything to use and abuse at will. The artist’s statement also confirms that Arthur is acting against Merlin’s will. Violence is certainly represented here, the base models having been ‘marked up’ to depict sexualisation of an already physically and emotionally abusive relationship, their relative positioning and the importation of semen heightening the humiliation. Wandsinhand’s work engages characters in sadomasochistic play, with semen and urine frequently employed to degrade and arouse—“peen wolf”, a reference to watersports, is used within his Teen Wolf practice. The two wandsinhand works analysed in this present article come without words, thus lacking a “linguistic message” (Barthes 273–6). However even so, the artist’s statement and Arthur’s stance over “his pet Merlin” mean we are still able to “skim off” (270) the meanings the image contains. The base models, for example, invite comparison with the ‘gay bukkake’ genre of gay pornography—admittedly with a single dominant male rather than a group. Gay bukkake has become a popular niche in North American gay pornography—it originated in Japan as a male–female act in the 1980s. It describes a ritualistic sexual act where a group of dominant men—often identifying as heterosexual—fuck and debase a homosexual, submissive male, commonly bareback (Durkin et al. 600). The aggression on display in this act—much like the homosocial insistency of men who partake in a ‘circle jerk’ (Mosher 318)—enables the participating men to affirm their masculinity and dominance by degrading the gay male, who is there to service (often on his knees) and receive—in any orifice of the group’s choosing—the men’s semen, and often urine as well. The equivalencies I have made here are based on the ‘performance’ of the bukkake fantasy in gay niche hazing and gay-for-pay pornography genres. These genres are fuelled by antigay sentiment, aggression and debasement of effeminate males (see Kendall). I wish here to resist the temptation of labelling the acts described above as deviant. As is a common problem with anti-pornography arguments, to attempt to fix a practice such as bukkake as deviant and abject—by, for example, equating it to rape (Franklin 24)—is to negate a much more complex consideration of distinctions and ambiguities between force and consent; lived and fantasy; where pleasure is, where it is performed and where it is taken. I extend this desire not to label the manip in question, which by exploiting the masculine posturing of Arthur effectively sexualises canon debasement. This began with the pilot when Arthur says: “Tell me Merlin, do you know how to walk on your knees?” Of the imported imagery—semen, bruising, perspiration—the key signifier is Arthur’s armour which, while torn in places, still ensures the encoding of particular signifieds: masculinity, strength and power. Doggystyle and the Subversion of Arthur’s ‘Armoured Self’ Since the romanticism and chivalric tradition of the knight in shining armour (see Huizinga) men as armoured selves have become a stoic symbol of masculine power and the benchmark for aspirational masculinity. For the medieval knight, armour reflects in its shiny surface the mettle of the man enclosed, imparting a state of ‘bodilessness’ by containing any softness beneath its shielded exterior (Burns 140). Wandsinhand’s Arthur/Percival manip (see Figure 2) subverts Arthur and the symbolism of armour with the help of arguably the only man who can: Arthur’s largest knight Percival. While a minor character among the knights, Percival’s physical presence in the series looms large, and has endeared him to slash manip artists, particularly those with only a casual interest in the series, such as wandsinhand: Why Arthur and Percival were specifically chosen had really little to do with the show’s plot, and in point of fact, I don’t really follow Merlin that closely nor am I an avid fan. […] Choosing Arthur/Percival really was just a matter of taste rather than being contextually based on their characterisations in the television show. Figure 2: wandsinhand, Untitled (Arthur/Percival), 2012, photo montage. Courtesy the artist. Concerning motivation, the artist explains: “Sometimes one’s penis decides to pick the tv show Merlin, and specifically Arthur and Percival.” The popularity of Percival among manip artists illustrates the power of physicality as a visual sign, and the valorisation of size and muscle within the gay community (see Sánchez et al.). Having his armour modified to display his muscles, the implication is that Percival does not need armour, for his body is already hard, impenetrable. He is already suited up, simultaneously man and armoured. Wandsinhand uses the physicality of this character to strip Arthur of his symbolic, masculine power. The work depicts Arthur with a dishevelled expression, his armoured chest pressed against the ground, his chainmail hitched up at the back to expose his arse, Percival threading his unsheathed cock inside him, staring expressionless at the ‘viewer’. The artist explains he “was trying to show a shift of power”: I was also hinting at some sign of struggle, which is somewhat evident on Arthur’s face too. […] I think the expressions work in concert to suggest […] a power reversal that leaves Arthur on the bottom, a position he’s not entirely comfortable accepting. There is pleasure to be had in seeing the “cocky” Arthur forcefully penetrated, “cut down to size by a bigger man” (wandsinhand). The two assume the ‘doggystyle’ position, an impersonal sexual position, without eye contact and where the penetrator sets the rhythm and intensity of each thrust. Scholars have argued that the position is degrading to the passive party, who is dehumanised by the act, a ‘dog’ (Dworkin 27); and rapper Snoop ‘Doggy’ Dogg exploits the misogynistic connotations of the position on his record Doggystyle (see Armstrong). Wandsinhand is clear in his intent to depict forceful domination of Arthur. Struggle is signified through the addition of perspiration, a trademark device used by this artist to symbolise struggle. Domination in a sexual act involves the erasure of the wishes of the dominated partner (see Cowan and Dunn). To attune oneself to the pleasures of a sexual partner is to regard them as a subject. To ignore such pleasures is to degrade the other person. The artist’s choice of pairing embraces the physicality of the male/male bond and illustrates a tendency among manip producers to privilege conventional masculine identifiers—such as size and muscle—above symbolic, nonphysical identifiers, such as status and rank. It is worth noting that muscle is more readily available in the pornographic source material used in slash manips—muscularity being a recurrent component of gay pornography (see Duggan and McCreary). In my interview with manip artist simontheduck, he describes the difficulty he had sourcing a base image “that complimented the physicality of the [Merlin] characters. […] The actor that plays Merlin is fairly thin while Arthur is pretty built, it was difficult to find one. I even had to edit Merlin’s body down further in the end.” (personal correspondence, used with permission) As wandsinhand explains, “you’re basically limited by what’s available on the internet, and even then, only what you’re prepared to sift through or screencap yourself”. Wandsinhand’s Arthur/Percival pairing selection works in tandem with other artistic decisions and inclusions—sexual position, setting, expressions, effects (perspiration, lighting)—to ensure the intended reading of the work. Antithetical size and rank positions play out in the penetration/submission act of wandsinhand’s work, in which only the stronger of the two may come out ‘on top’. Percival subverts the symbolic power structures of prince/knight, asserting his physical, sexual dominance over the physically inferior Arthur. That such a construction of Percival is incongruent with the polite, impeded-by-my-size-and-muscle-density Percival of the series speaks to the circumstances of manip production, much of which is on a taste basis, as previously noted. There are of course exceptions to this, the Teen Wolf ‘Sterek’ (Stiles/Derek) pairing being wandsinhand’s, but even in this case, size tends to couple with penetration. Slash manips often privilege physicality of the characters in question—as well as the base models selected—above any particular canon-supported slash reading. (Of course, the ‘queering’ nature of slash practice means at times there is also a desire to see such identifiers subverted, however in this example, raw masculine power prevails.) This final point is in no way representative—my practice, for example, combines manips with ficlets to offer a clearer connection with canon, while LJ’s zdae69 integrates manips, fiction and comics. However, common across slash manip artists driven by taste—and requests—rather than connection with canon—the best known being LJ’s tw-31988, demon48180 and Tumblr’s lwoodsmalestarsfakes, all of whom work across many fandoms—is interest in the ‘aesthetics of canon’, the blue hues of Teen Wolf or the fluorescent greens of Arrow (2012–present), displayed in glossy magazine format using services such as ISSUU. In short, ‘the look’ of the work often takes precedent over canonical implications of any artistic decisions. “Nothing Too Serious”: Slash Manips as Objects Worth Studying It had long been believed that the popular was the transient, that of entertainment rather than enlightenment; that which is manufactured, “an appendage of the machinery”, consumed by the duped masses and a product not of culture but of a ‘culture industry’ (Adorno and Rabinbach 12). Scholars such as Radway, Ang pioneered a shift in scholarly practice, advancing the cultural studies project by challenging elitism and finding meaning in traditionally devalued cultural texts and practices. The most surprising outcome of my interviews with wandsinhand was hearing how he conceived of his practice, and the study of slash: If I knew I could get a PhD by writing a dissertation on Slash, I would probably drop out of my physics papers! […] I don’t really think too highly of faking/manip-making. I mean, it’s not like it’s high art, is it? … or is it? I guess if Duchamp’s toilet can be a masterpiece, then so can anything. But I mainly just do it to pass the time, materialise fantasies, and disperse my fantasies unto others. Nothing too serious. Wandsinhand erects various binaries—academic/fan, important/trivial, science/arts, high art/low art, profession/hobby, reality/fantasy, serious/frivolous—as justification to devalue his own artistic practice. Yet embracing the amateur, personal nature of his practice frees him to “materialise fantasies” that would perhaps not be possible without self-imposed, underground production. This is certainly supported by his body of work, which plays with taboos of the unseen, of bodily fluids and sadomasochism. My intention with this article is not to contravene views such as wandsinhand’s. Rather, it is to promote slash manips as a form of remix culture that encourages new perspectives on how slash has been defined, its connection with male producers and its symbiotic relationship with gay pornography. I have examined the ‘semiotic significance of selection’ that creates meaning in two contrary slash manips; how these works actualise and resist canon dominance, as it relates to the physical and the symbolic. This examination also offers insight into this form’s connection to and negotiation with certain ideologies of gay pornography, such as the valorisation of size and muscle. 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