1. Thanks for taking the time to write this generous and detailed response. My knowledge of BITB and Children’s Hour was fuzzy, but I’m happy to discover that my sense of the history of these works and the public perception of them was vague rather than wrong.
I certainly did not know Harvey’s significance until you explained it, but he managed to get under my skin anyway.
2. All the stuff you say here about your writing process-- it’s similar to what I do. I’m proud of my writing, I don’t need to fish for compliments, etc., but it is definitely encouraging to hear about your method and feel like it’s not much different from mine.
I agree that the job at hand is to get your voice on the page, and that is surprisingly labor-intensive. I don’t think having a voice is literally the same thing as having quality-- I’ve encountered some writers on here that are (to me) awful, but they have a voice.
A couple times, I was insulted by some anti-Semitic “writers.” They each had a voice. The use of sentences and so forth was somewhat limited, nonetheless.
But I do think you need a voice. And it took me a lot of writing and a lot of talking to find it. I didn’t know what it was at first.
3. Re: stealing. I also have a big problem with the idea of appropriation. I think it’s a fundamental misunderstanding of how art works. When I say I stole something, I don’t mean I did something wrong. I use the word jokingly, but I’m dead serious about the process. I try to get some new idiom or concept from somebody every day.
I might be borrowing from John Coltrane, or from the Stones, or from Transylvanian fiddlers. Or from Wodehouse or Faulkner or Tennessee Williams. Etc. But I never feel guilty about any of it, and I always try to weave it into my own approach. I see it as a respectful tribute to those other artists, and I’ve been doing this for many more years than most progressives have been telling artists what they can and can’t do.
I consider Miles Davis, Oscar Wilde, and Flannery O’Connor to be part of my community.
4. I hope I get a chance to see some of your (other) work. Please feel free to point me towards anything that’s accessible, searchable, etc.
5. No pressure on this one, but I’d love to do a “restack quote” on some of what you wrote here in the comments. I read your response here a bunch of times, and it would be fun to pass some of it along, and encourage people to read both the comments and the post. Please let me know if that’s ok. I figure it’s ok with posts, but this is more of a conversation so I don’t want to cheapen it by using it in self-promotion. Unless you are okay with it!
Thanks for all this. I was already having a good day, but you made it even better.
I love what you wrote here. The art that artists create--whatever their identity or culture or race may be--the art, once given to the world, belongs to us all! Thusly, I say, restack at will! The primary reason I put myself out there and started publishing these potentially controversial views of mine? Because I was being told I couldn't. So I stand behind everything I write--if quoting me is of value to you and your readers--I'm delighted. As for my work, jamesbeaman.com is my actor site and I have a YouTube channel. My screenplays are on FilmFreeway and if you email me privately I can give you passwords so you can access the scripts if desired.
James, quite apart from your message, your writing is just always so fine that I’m moved to comment even before I have something to say.
It sounds conversational, even casual sometimes, but I figure it must take a lot of work to revise until it comes across that way. No need to reveal your secrets if you’d prefer not to, but I suspect I’m in the hallowed presence of a fellow reviser.
A couple items:
The unraveling of my conditioned homophobia took many years. It happened one puzzle piece at a time. But I think Harvey Fierstein played a small role in it.
I recall fuzzily the first time I saw him in something. Maybe the only time; his career isn’t so much on my radar and I can’t even remember what I saw him in.
But I do remember how I felt about him.
Even though his superficial traits seemed like the things I didn’t like at the time— it’s probably accurate to say that the more gay someone seemed, the more I thought “why do they have to act like that?”— I found myself warming up to him.
Not because I understood him. I didn’t. But because he just radiated the idea that HE understood himself. And he wasn’t focused on either winning me over, or dismissing me.
He was just doing the work, both the work of acting, and the work of being himself. And that connected with me. I liked him! All of a sudden he seemed like a guy it would be fun to hang out with.
I don’t think I could have articulated any of this at the time.
I, on the other hand, was always trying to get people to like me, and always felt like a victim if they didn’t. (I could not have articulated this either.)
And somewhere in that timeline I remember the idea becoming common that a person was a “badass,” if they were radiating a kind of “fuck you, this is who I am” attitude.
And I bought into that for a while.
But gradually I became more impressed by the people who took the “fuck you” out of it. And I took the “fuck you” out of my own shtick.
You probably have said this already, maybe even in the piece I just read, but just as we try to recognize that intolerance comes from fear, I think the defiant woke clannishness also comes from fear. It’s the fear that you might have to be judged for what YOU bring to the table, and not just ushered to a seat because you’re on the varsity football team, or the varsity victim team.
I know I have oodles of privilege, as a straight white male. But it seems to me that this protected me from a lot of hate or intolerance, but it didn’t mean people felt they had to LIKE me. And they didn’t like me. A lot of them didn’t, anyway. And when they didn’t like me, they didn’t like me for me. That’s not oppression, maybe, but it is excruciating.
When I was in high school, I played guitar in a rock and roll band in some assembly. And a girl who had always been awkward around me, and unfriendly, made eye contact with me and said she liked my band, or liked my playing.
And I remember I wasn’t able to fully enjoy that moment. I found that my feelings were mixed. I didn’t like it that she had to see me onstage playing guitar before she could be nice to me.
I’ve been ambivalent about this phenomenon ever since, people liking me because they like my music. And I’ve slowly grown into the person I am now, where I say what I think and drive people away sometimes, but other people join my team immediately.
They like me, because they like the way I make them feel, and I like them, because of the way they make me feel. I suspect sometimes they’re thinking “if this guy is going to talk so crazy, I suppose I can let my guard down and say what I think too.”
And I think that perhaps I’ve internalized something from exposure to Harvey Fierstein, Quentin Crisp, and some other people I’ve forgotten. Those two fellows made me feel more comfortable being myself, and I’m trying to do something similar for others when I’m out in the world.
Speaking of pride and community— I’m proud to have stolen something from them and made it my own. And every time I meet someone who is willing to hear me out, and then they expect me to hear them out— that feels like a community to me. A community of two, for a minute, and I had to work for it, and so did they, and neither of us had a script.
Thank you for your generous acknowledgement of my writing, Karl--it means a lot! My writing process really took flight when I got deep into the very precise and concise screenwriting form, and began writing episodic TV scripts. It's a combo of fastidious attention to the most minute details of structure and format; being willing, once the spontaneous creative flow kicks in, to just let it pour out, even if it sucks; and then going back, and finding fun in tending to the pruning and editing. These essays have been really intriguing to create because I want them to be in my voice, and it's vital to me that I be vigilant about delineating exactly what I mean, with all the nuance, because by doing so, I can defend everything without any hesitation. I also type the essays as I speak everything aloud--so yeah, it sounds like me, in all my verbosity and snark, LOL. Different topics need different tones of voice--I reserve the sassy stuff for the subjects I feel need to be laughed out of the room. It's a balancing act.
Now--Harvey Fierstein's arrival made a very important impact on our culture's perceptions of gay people. "Torch Song Trilogy," which he wrote for himself, and performed, at 24! (the first act is a monologue), started at a tiny theatre in the Village, and was so impactful it moved to Broadway where it was incredibly successful; and then of course, there's the movie. It was Harvey's message that was so potent and relatable. Prior to that play, stories of gay people--even pioneering works like "The Boys in the Band," the first Broadway play by a gay playwright about the real lives of gay men--dealt with the impacts of the internalization of stigma and persecution: self loathing, competition and cruelty between gay men, particularly around issues of sexual attractiveness and masculinity. These stories never ended well--Lillian Hellman's "The Children's Hour," about two women victimized by a false rumor that they're lovers, ends with one of them realizing she really is gay and shooting herself. "Tea and Sympathy," about a young man in a boy's boarding school being bullied with insinuations that he's "a fairy," ends with the adult headmaster's wife seducing the teenager to prove to him he's straight. Eek. "Torch Song" was the first piece that showed an openly gay man and his search for love and acceptance--ultimately confronting his family's shame and judgment by declaring his truth even if it means breaking from them. People could relate to Harvey's story-- -it humanized gay people such that it gave permission for every major gay work that came after it! His message was about declaring oneself worthy of love and understanding. In the musical "La Cage Aux Folles," the message is an anthem: "Life's not worth a damn, til you can say, "Hey world! I Am What I Am." Gay men especially needed to know that if they didn't "pass" or appear "straight acting," they deserved the same dignity and respect as anyone else. It's for another conversation, but there was a massive stigma against men who presented as "stereotypically gay" both in the mainstream and within the gay community--where being masculine meant sexual viability--one's entire sense of status was tied to being attractive to other masculine presenting men. I've always come across as gay, and it took a long time for me to be able to be myself in my life, and be able to set my personal mannerisms aside in order to submerge into a wide range of characters as an actor. I still cringe at my own flamboyance at times--like in podcast interviews!--but I accept who I am. The benefits of radical authenticity are immense--and Harvey Fierstein had a strong influence on me in that regard.
I am touched by your share about the sting when you felt that your visibility and value to other people seemed entirely tied up with your music--but your creative work is the purest and deepest expression of you--it's the artist's lot: we're addicted to external validation! For me, as a kid, there were only a couple times in a school year when the teasing and taunting took a day off and I was suddenly praised and patted on the back: when I sang in a chorus concert or played a part in the school musical. So yeah, my talent and ability as a performer became the thing that gave me value. Is it any wonder I drove myself like a demon throughout my career, sacrificing everything in my pursuit of success and recognition?
You didn't "steal" anything from anyone--one of the ideas I absolutely repudiate is this "appropriation" nonsense. The driving desire of all of us queers of a certain generation was to belong, so we might contribute our special gifts to the world. You were inspired by people you saw taking enormous risks to be openly who they are--and it gave you some courage to do the same. That's the dream that fueled me and drove me on as I grew up--that being myself against all odds might give others the permission to do the same.
And RIGHT ON--yes--community is about finding common ground by listening to each other, and being willing to tolerate our inevitable differences, by investing in our shared values and convictions. This is why I speak out against the current mania for obsessing over the differences, magnifying them to such an extent that we risk deliberately undoing any progress we've made in finding something of a balanced coexistence. The perverse insistence by some to completely reverse this delicate equilibrium is one of the tragedies of our time, from which I hope we can recover.
Wow! Beautiful and inspiring - thank you for writing this.
Thank you and keep the faith.
You're a beautiful cat, Jamie!
Many thanks!
1. Thanks for taking the time to write this generous and detailed response. My knowledge of BITB and Children’s Hour was fuzzy, but I’m happy to discover that my sense of the history of these works and the public perception of them was vague rather than wrong.
I certainly did not know Harvey’s significance until you explained it, but he managed to get under my skin anyway.
2. All the stuff you say here about your writing process-- it’s similar to what I do. I’m proud of my writing, I don’t need to fish for compliments, etc., but it is definitely encouraging to hear about your method and feel like it’s not much different from mine.
I agree that the job at hand is to get your voice on the page, and that is surprisingly labor-intensive. I don’t think having a voice is literally the same thing as having quality-- I’ve encountered some writers on here that are (to me) awful, but they have a voice.
A couple times, I was insulted by some anti-Semitic “writers.” They each had a voice. The use of sentences and so forth was somewhat limited, nonetheless.
But I do think you need a voice. And it took me a lot of writing and a lot of talking to find it. I didn’t know what it was at first.
3. Re: stealing. I also have a big problem with the idea of appropriation. I think it’s a fundamental misunderstanding of how art works. When I say I stole something, I don’t mean I did something wrong. I use the word jokingly, but I’m dead serious about the process. I try to get some new idiom or concept from somebody every day.
I might be borrowing from John Coltrane, or from the Stones, or from Transylvanian fiddlers. Or from Wodehouse or Faulkner or Tennessee Williams. Etc. But I never feel guilty about any of it, and I always try to weave it into my own approach. I see it as a respectful tribute to those other artists, and I’ve been doing this for many more years than most progressives have been telling artists what they can and can’t do.
I consider Miles Davis, Oscar Wilde, and Flannery O’Connor to be part of my community.
4. I hope I get a chance to see some of your (other) work. Please feel free to point me towards anything that’s accessible, searchable, etc.
5. No pressure on this one, but I’d love to do a “restack quote” on some of what you wrote here in the comments. I read your response here a bunch of times, and it would be fun to pass some of it along, and encourage people to read both the comments and the post. Please let me know if that’s ok. I figure it’s ok with posts, but this is more of a conversation so I don’t want to cheapen it by using it in self-promotion. Unless you are okay with it!
Thanks for all this. I was already having a good day, but you made it even better.
I love what you wrote here. The art that artists create--whatever their identity or culture or race may be--the art, once given to the world, belongs to us all! Thusly, I say, restack at will! The primary reason I put myself out there and started publishing these potentially controversial views of mine? Because I was being told I couldn't. So I stand behind everything I write--if quoting me is of value to you and your readers--I'm delighted. As for my work, jamesbeaman.com is my actor site and I have a YouTube channel. My screenplays are on FilmFreeway and if you email me privately I can give you passwords so you can access the scripts if desired.
Dang-- a motherlode. Let me start digging into this. Thanks as always for the kind words!
James, quite apart from your message, your writing is just always so fine that I’m moved to comment even before I have something to say.
It sounds conversational, even casual sometimes, but I figure it must take a lot of work to revise until it comes across that way. No need to reveal your secrets if you’d prefer not to, but I suspect I’m in the hallowed presence of a fellow reviser.
A couple items:
The unraveling of my conditioned homophobia took many years. It happened one puzzle piece at a time. But I think Harvey Fierstein played a small role in it.
I recall fuzzily the first time I saw him in something. Maybe the only time; his career isn’t so much on my radar and I can’t even remember what I saw him in.
But I do remember how I felt about him.
Even though his superficial traits seemed like the things I didn’t like at the time— it’s probably accurate to say that the more gay someone seemed, the more I thought “why do they have to act like that?”— I found myself warming up to him.
Not because I understood him. I didn’t. But because he just radiated the idea that HE understood himself. And he wasn’t focused on either winning me over, or dismissing me.
He was just doing the work, both the work of acting, and the work of being himself. And that connected with me. I liked him! All of a sudden he seemed like a guy it would be fun to hang out with.
I don’t think I could have articulated any of this at the time.
I, on the other hand, was always trying to get people to like me, and always felt like a victim if they didn’t. (I could not have articulated this either.)
And somewhere in that timeline I remember the idea becoming common that a person was a “badass,” if they were radiating a kind of “fuck you, this is who I am” attitude.
And I bought into that for a while.
But gradually I became more impressed by the people who took the “fuck you” out of it. And I took the “fuck you” out of my own shtick.
You probably have said this already, maybe even in the piece I just read, but just as we try to recognize that intolerance comes from fear, I think the defiant woke clannishness also comes from fear. It’s the fear that you might have to be judged for what YOU bring to the table, and not just ushered to a seat because you’re on the varsity football team, or the varsity victim team.
I know I have oodles of privilege, as a straight white male. But it seems to me that this protected me from a lot of hate or intolerance, but it didn’t mean people felt they had to LIKE me. And they didn’t like me. A lot of them didn’t, anyway. And when they didn’t like me, they didn’t like me for me. That’s not oppression, maybe, but it is excruciating.
When I was in high school, I played guitar in a rock and roll band in some assembly. And a girl who had always been awkward around me, and unfriendly, made eye contact with me and said she liked my band, or liked my playing.
And I remember I wasn’t able to fully enjoy that moment. I found that my feelings were mixed. I didn’t like it that she had to see me onstage playing guitar before she could be nice to me.
I’ve been ambivalent about this phenomenon ever since, people liking me because they like my music. And I’ve slowly grown into the person I am now, where I say what I think and drive people away sometimes, but other people join my team immediately.
They like me, because they like the way I make them feel, and I like them, because of the way they make me feel. I suspect sometimes they’re thinking “if this guy is going to talk so crazy, I suppose I can let my guard down and say what I think too.”
And I think that perhaps I’ve internalized something from exposure to Harvey Fierstein, Quentin Crisp, and some other people I’ve forgotten. Those two fellows made me feel more comfortable being myself, and I’m trying to do something similar for others when I’m out in the world.
Speaking of pride and community— I’m proud to have stolen something from them and made it my own. And every time I meet someone who is willing to hear me out, and then they expect me to hear them out— that feels like a community to me. A community of two, for a minute, and I had to work for it, and so did they, and neither of us had a script.
We both earned it, and it feels good to earn it.
Thank you for your generous acknowledgement of my writing, Karl--it means a lot! My writing process really took flight when I got deep into the very precise and concise screenwriting form, and began writing episodic TV scripts. It's a combo of fastidious attention to the most minute details of structure and format; being willing, once the spontaneous creative flow kicks in, to just let it pour out, even if it sucks; and then going back, and finding fun in tending to the pruning and editing. These essays have been really intriguing to create because I want them to be in my voice, and it's vital to me that I be vigilant about delineating exactly what I mean, with all the nuance, because by doing so, I can defend everything without any hesitation. I also type the essays as I speak everything aloud--so yeah, it sounds like me, in all my verbosity and snark, LOL. Different topics need different tones of voice--I reserve the sassy stuff for the subjects I feel need to be laughed out of the room. It's a balancing act.
Now--Harvey Fierstein's arrival made a very important impact on our culture's perceptions of gay people. "Torch Song Trilogy," which he wrote for himself, and performed, at 24! (the first act is a monologue), started at a tiny theatre in the Village, and was so impactful it moved to Broadway where it was incredibly successful; and then of course, there's the movie. It was Harvey's message that was so potent and relatable. Prior to that play, stories of gay people--even pioneering works like "The Boys in the Band," the first Broadway play by a gay playwright about the real lives of gay men--dealt with the impacts of the internalization of stigma and persecution: self loathing, competition and cruelty between gay men, particularly around issues of sexual attractiveness and masculinity. These stories never ended well--Lillian Hellman's "The Children's Hour," about two women victimized by a false rumor that they're lovers, ends with one of them realizing she really is gay and shooting herself. "Tea and Sympathy," about a young man in a boy's boarding school being bullied with insinuations that he's "a fairy," ends with the adult headmaster's wife seducing the teenager to prove to him he's straight. Eek. "Torch Song" was the first piece that showed an openly gay man and his search for love and acceptance--ultimately confronting his family's shame and judgment by declaring his truth even if it means breaking from them. People could relate to Harvey's story-- -it humanized gay people such that it gave permission for every major gay work that came after it! His message was about declaring oneself worthy of love and understanding. In the musical "La Cage Aux Folles," the message is an anthem: "Life's not worth a damn, til you can say, "Hey world! I Am What I Am." Gay men especially needed to know that if they didn't "pass" or appear "straight acting," they deserved the same dignity and respect as anyone else. It's for another conversation, but there was a massive stigma against men who presented as "stereotypically gay" both in the mainstream and within the gay community--where being masculine meant sexual viability--one's entire sense of status was tied to being attractive to other masculine presenting men. I've always come across as gay, and it took a long time for me to be able to be myself in my life, and be able to set my personal mannerisms aside in order to submerge into a wide range of characters as an actor. I still cringe at my own flamboyance at times--like in podcast interviews!--but I accept who I am. The benefits of radical authenticity are immense--and Harvey Fierstein had a strong influence on me in that regard.
I am touched by your share about the sting when you felt that your visibility and value to other people seemed entirely tied up with your music--but your creative work is the purest and deepest expression of you--it's the artist's lot: we're addicted to external validation! For me, as a kid, there were only a couple times in a school year when the teasing and taunting took a day off and I was suddenly praised and patted on the back: when I sang in a chorus concert or played a part in the school musical. So yeah, my talent and ability as a performer became the thing that gave me value. Is it any wonder I drove myself like a demon throughout my career, sacrificing everything in my pursuit of success and recognition?
You didn't "steal" anything from anyone--one of the ideas I absolutely repudiate is this "appropriation" nonsense. The driving desire of all of us queers of a certain generation was to belong, so we might contribute our special gifts to the world. You were inspired by people you saw taking enormous risks to be openly who they are--and it gave you some courage to do the same. That's the dream that fueled me and drove me on as I grew up--that being myself against all odds might give others the permission to do the same.
And RIGHT ON--yes--community is about finding common ground by listening to each other, and being willing to tolerate our inevitable differences, by investing in our shared values and convictions. This is why I speak out against the current mania for obsessing over the differences, magnifying them to such an extent that we risk deliberately undoing any progress we've made in finding something of a balanced coexistence. The perverse insistence by some to completely reverse this delicate equilibrium is one of the tragedies of our time, from which I hope we can recover.