V.19 No.40 | 10/7/2010
This Week's Film & TV: 8th SW Gay & Lesbian Film Fest, Duke City DocFest, Never Let Me Go, The Event
Freshman Fest Flogs Nonfiction Film: Check out the inaugural Duke City DocFest, chock full of documentary goodness, and free to boot! Sunday Oct. 10 through Friday, Oct. 15, various venues around downtown Albuquerque.
The eighth annual Southwest Gay and Lesbian Film Festival — the Southwest's premiere showcase for gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender cinema screens films as diverse as its audience. Reveling in its identity as the premiere outlet for gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender cinema in the Southwest, Albuquerque’s own SG&LFF has been able to attract hundreds of quality features, documentaries and shorts. “People have begun to realize that, after eight years, our programming is really tight and we are open to the community at large. We’re definitely a gay and lesbian film festival, but we’re open to everyone.”
Oct. 8 through Oct. 14, at Guild Cinema, Southwest Film Center, Bank of America Theater at NHCC.
Film Review: Never Let Me Go is an overly restrained sci-fi experiment
Idiot Box: “The Event” on NBC
V.19 No.24 | 6/17/2010
Father Knows Best?
In the pulpit with Aux Dog Theatre
By Khyber Oser
Ladies and gentleman, welcome to the “Rumble in the Rectory.”
V.19 No.23 | 6/10/2010
Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell
By Marisa Demarco
It's been in effect for 17 years. Openly gay, lesbian or bisexual men and women can't serve in the armed forces. Specifically, they’re barred from showing a tendency toward homosexual acts. The policy also prevents the military from rooting out those hiding their sexual preferences. Still, estimates suggest as many as 13,000 people have been discharged, and thousands more decided not to re-enlist because of the Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell policy.
V.18 No.43 | 10/22/2009
Just Say Yes
The struggle for LGBT rights hits home
By Maren Tarro [ Thu Oct 15 2009 5:06 PM ]
When Alibi news editor Marisa Demarco asked if I would cover the National Equality March in D.C. I quickly responded with a great big “Yes”. Nevermind the march took place the weekend I was scheduled to be hauling all my earthly belongings into my new apartment outside Baltimore, and never mind I’d never actually been to D.C. before. I was excited for the opportunity to document this event. (See the piece and other photos here.)
And then, as I started working on the article, a phone interview with One Struggle, One Fight–New Mexico’s Kelly Hutton caused me to seriously think about attending the march as more than a reporter. Her infectious enthusiasm got to me. “Please! Come march with us,” Hutton encouraged me, and her invitation echoed in my thoughts as I made my travel plans.
Additional pressure came in a phone call from my mother who reminded me I had many LGBT friends and family members who would be unable to make it to D.C. The weight on my shoulders was growing heavy. I could have easily shrugged it off by telling myself I was a reporter; my job was to attend as an objective observer and nothing more.
But I couldn’t. My conscience wouldn’t be that easily appeased.
So, I marched. I marched in between climbing walls to get the best shots I could, between hanging off light posts to get just the right angle and between tracking down activists from New Mexico. I ran alongside marchers, doubling back to snap photos of clever signs and then hurrying to catch up to marchers arriving at the Capitol. I jumped on and off cement barriers and planters, jogged backwards to catch groups caught up in the moment and ended up with a stress fracture in my left foot. But I marched.
I marched for my aunt Gloria who died last year after a fiercely short battle with ovarian cancer. I marched for her partner Deanna who was referred to only as “friend” and “roommate” at Gloria’s Catholic funeral.
I marched for my HIV-positive cousin Mari, the first transgender person I’d ever met. As I child, I was endlessly fascinated by him, putting him on my list of things to ponder between Boy George and God.
I marched for my cousin Felix, a young lesbian who I have so much admiration for. She is unapologetic for her identity even to her devoutly Catholic family.
I marched for all my LGBT friends over the years who are too numerous to name. But I will make special mention of John Cook, a nurse and teacher who may very well be the best drinking buddy a gal can have.
And I marched for all those who made their way to D.C. to support their community. For the military personnel thrown out under DADT, for the young people bullied in school over their sexuality, the parents who aren’t recognized as parents under current laws, partners who are refused the right to be at their loved one’s sides in hospitals, those ostracized in their churches and the countless others who find themselves denied anything based on their orientation, I marched.
The march continues. Now is the time to write letters to our senators, representatives and councilmen. Now is the time to tell everyone you know to support our friends and family in their old-as-time struggle for equal treatment under the law.
I marched for my loved ones, but will you?
V.18 No.33 | 8/13/2009
Kiss for a Cause
By Marisa Demarco [ Wed Aug 12 2009 5:34 PM ]
Maker-outers unite! To promote positive GLBT visibility, Albuquerque will be participating in The Great Nationwide Kiss In on Saturday.
Lovers of any kind should head out to Civic Plaza and plant a beso on someone right at noon. Bring a mate, or go it alone and see who you can find.
Herbalism Series 1 at The Source
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