Heads turned. Conversations stopped, then started up again as whispered buzzing: who are those people, resplendent, wildly colorful, statuesque, square jawed, proudly wearing the weight of some mythical legacy while gliding into new spaces and creating their own? If pop culture America had royalty, it would be these Gettys – haute couture fashion designer August, street designer Nats and bubbly-beautiful social media star Gigi Gorgeous, escorting into the LGBTQ charity event Ari Getty and Louie Rubio, her partner of 12 years.. Nonprofit CEOs and glamorous drag queens delight in recognition as Ari and her entourage are seated at the majestic center roundtable as if, for this night, in this place, a new Camelot community has come together to celebrate protecting the disadvantaged and pledging to work hard on problems yet to come.
Ari Getty’s broad smile reveals her secret: the wealthy heiress is a momma bear in real life. It’s as if her shyness provides protective boundaries containing an abundance of love and joy that she heaps on her LGBTQ children and their friends and that she shares through her Ariadne Getty Foundation (ariadnegettyfdn.org). She’s donated millions to the Los Angeles LGBT Center and GLAAD to protect and create a better community for LGBTQ people. It is that contribution that prompted the Los Angeles Blade to give Getty this year’s Hero Award.
“Ari is an incredibly authentic person through and through. In November, I had a family crisis that included both my mom and I having COVID. She heard about it and decided she wanted to make sure the papers were OK and that I could focus on my health. I didn’t ask her to do that,” says LA Blade publisher Troy Masters. “That’s pretty Heroic.”
She also facilitated the creation of the Ariadne Getty Foundation Youth Academy and the Ariadne Getty Foundation Senior Housing complex at the Los Angeles LGBT Center’s Anita May Rosenstein Campus in Hollywood.
“I don’t say this very often, especially in this town, but Ari Getty is the real deal,” Los Angeles LGBT Center CEO Lorri Jean told Variety about her friend in 2019 when Getty received Variety’s Philanthropist of the Year Award. “She gives because she sees that there are important needs that must be met and she wants to help. She gives because her heart is filled with compassion and empathy. She gives because she feels she has a responsibility to make a difference.”
“I’ve been very close with the Center and very, very close with Lorri. She’s been gracious enough to have us to her house with her wife, Gina, and cook steaks for us. I love our friendship and the work that she does at the Center is unparalleled. I always thought that the Center of Los Angeles should be the model for most large cities to basically be the same format and provide the same services — everything from meals to the health services,” Getty tells the LA Blade. “They have a huge industrial kitchen there for the youth to make food so they’re a learning skill, so they can go out and apply for jobs.”
The Senior Center will open when COVID is controlled. “I’m particularly excited about the seniors,” Getty says. “My heart goes out to them so much because they’ve lost lots of their friends and they’re lonely and the Center provides such a hub of activity. And I love the fact that we’re going to be joining the youth with the seniors, because the seniors will be able to educate the youth about really the history and the hardships of getting to where we are today, where we still have so far to go. But this is a far cry from being gay in the ’40s or the ’50s — let alone during the ’80s with AIDS. I think people, as they get older, get afraid of new things like technology and I think that the youth can help the seniors with just staying up to date and feeling a part of that side. That’s definitely the thing that makes me the happiest: they’re in a Center where they’re surrounded by people. There’s no room for loneliness.”
So much is expected of Ari Getty, it’s hard to imagine how she became the person she is today. It’s surprising to hear that, while Hillary Clinton may have written the rhetorical ideal that “it takes a village” to raise a child — Ari actually experienced it.
“I grew up in a really unusual household, you could say,” Getty says, “very close to my siblings. It was just an unusual upbringing. We had a house in the countryside in Italy, and it didn’t have electricity. So my chore was to go and start the generator every night with my stepfather and go to the vegetable patch and pick out the vegetables. It was kind of the most ideal. It’s like a fantasy. It’s like a storybook.
“Basically everybody in the village was elderly,” she continues. “So I would go after I finished my chores at home, I would walk down to the village, which was two miles, and I had all of my senior friends that I would help. One summer it would be making Bic pens. I would put the ink stick into the plastic receptacle. And then another summer, I would be attaching the leather strap to the wood scholls. Scholls aren’t around anymore, but they were sandals. I had a very close relationship with them. I really was raised by a village, in the true sense of the word. I literally was raised by a village.”
The villagers would make the young girl lunch. “I would grate the cheese while they were making the pasta and I would go from house to house. Sometimes they would give me a little glass of wine at the tender age of seven. “And we would play with the hay on the haystacks at the dairy farm. There was everything you could do without having toys. Even the youngest people, they took to me. I think I’ve always had that connection. And my mother still lives in that town. It’s about 60 people, if that, maybe 40. But I just always knew that I wanted to help. It’s just been in my nature, I think, having the goal to help.”
Ari Getty had a dream. “My goal has always been that I’ll be somebody that would give to community, to be a part of philanthropy on a larger scale,” she says. “It’s been many years that I’ve known that — I can’t shy away from the question completely — that I would inherit money. And the first thing that I did was set up the foundation and that’s become my passion.”
Getty has always been highly aware of the need for community, including how LGBTQ people rejected by their own families created their own sense of community during the AIDS crisis.
“COVID is not nearly as scary to me as AIDS,” Getty says. “When my sister [Aileen Getty] was diagnosed HIV positive and I had just lost my best friend, Darryl — Nats was two weeks old when my sister was in the hospital. She had something like 7 T-cells. I remember calling my pediatrician saying, ‘Is it safe for me to go and see her with Nats being a baby?’ And he was like, ‘Go. She’ll be fine.’ Those were really scary days — really, really scary days. The landscape is somewhat different today, luckily.”
Ari Getty has not only loved and empowered her gay children August and Nats but rejoiced and welcomed transgender activist and social media star Gigi Gorgeous into the family when Nats and Gigi married. There was no hand wringing. No fuss. No hysterics about what the neighbors and the world would think. Just love.
“It’s so easy,” Getty says. “I gave birth to two children, two individuals, two babies, and I made sure that they learned their ABCs. I made sure that they were fed, cleaned, and loved more than anything. We didn’t have a television. We spent our time playing together. And I’ve always trusted them to make the right choices because they never gave me any indication that they weren’t able to do something unsafely. When August told me that he was going out with someone from the room service staff at this hotel we were living at — I just went to West Hollywood, found one of those vans that are on the street at night and have all of the information and I got all of the packets of information and the condoms — I just wanted to be extra careful — and gave it all to August.
“As long as they’re informed and what they need to do to feel like they’re their true essential selves, I encourage 100%,” Getty says. “Nats went public with a statement letting everybody know that they had top surgery done and I couldn’t be more proud of the decision that they made to actually go ahead and do it, rather than wait 10 more years feeling uncomfortable in the body that was. So, I trust them to govern themselves.”
Getty is also aware that coming out is difficult and parents might feel shame themselves or be afraid for their children’s safety.
“I understand because that’s a real fear and it was one of mine when they were younger and going out. Nats got yelled at because there was a public display of affection somebody yelled in a restaurant — which isn’t acceptable at all,” she says. “But what I would say to any parent is, ‘You gave birth to a child. It’s not for you to decide the nature of the child. You actually gave birth to a human being who has their own identity.’ I would honestly just say, ‘Please love your children, because you have them and you’re not going have any more probably, and love them as much as you can, because it’s a relationship. You can’t deny all the years of taking care of them as babies — and there’s love there. And don’t think about the neighbors or what the neighbors have to say — they mean nothing. They’re inconsequential to the whole topic. It’s just, ‘Love your children over opinion.’”
Interestingly, as creative and thoughtful as she is, Ari Getty would not do a do-over of her life if given the chance.
“I’m in exactly the life that I want to be living in — all through the struggles and trauma and the joy and the happiness — I wouldn’t change a thing because I wouldn’t be at where I am right now,” Getty says. “I’m in a really amazing place. I have a partner who I’ve been with for 12 years, and my children are living their truth, and I can look them in the eye and be really proud of them as human beings and the work that they do. They do philanthropic work, and I’m so proud of that…We’ve talked about when I’m too old to make decisions, we’ve talked about how the foundation is going to be run, and they’ll take over. But they have their own foundations — and I have a life of purpose and a life filled with wonderful friends and wonderful people that I meet, and I couldn’t be luckier.”
Ari Getty is also grateful to be receiving the Hero Award from her friend Troy Masters.
“I love Troy. He’s an angel,” she says. “I actually don’t really have words. I’m just sort of blown away. I don’t think that I could imagine that I would get a Hero Award. But it’s on my counter and it’s not going anywhere. But obviously with the work that I do, it’s not necessarily me that wants to get recognized — it’s the work. And if I’m able to influence anybody else that has income, extra income, disposable income, if I can be an example to anybody, that’s the bonus, and I’m incredibly honored to receive the award. It means the world.”
The Camelot legend refers to the myth about the idyllic world of King Arthur and the Knights of the Roundtable who pledged to do good work to benefit the people and their happiness. Jacqueline Kennedy revived the myth when talking about the legacy of her assassinated husband, John F. Kennedy, and the world he inspired during his too-short presidency. West Hollywood was joyfully dubbed the “gay Camelot” after its founding in 1984. Today, the roving band of philanthropists under the loving tutelage and gaze of Ari Getty brings that shiny spot of possibility, creativity, freedom of expression, and abundant love to whatever space they enter. They were brought up that way.
LA Blade Exclusive: L Morgan Lee, Broadway’s newest icon sings her truth
She is the first ever trans actress to receive a Tony Award Nomination & the first trans performer to be in a work that has won a Pulitzer
NEW YORK CITY – “I am just a girl,” L Morgan Lee tells me. That simple statement is her self-definition, a girl taking life one step at a time.
To the rest of us, L Morgan Lee is so much more. She is the award-winning actress starring on Broadway in the hit show of the season, A Strange Loop. Her singing talent matches that of any legendary diva, she is creating landmark theatrical projects on womanhood and New York Times articles are being written about her. She is the “girl” in the spotlight now.
She is also, the first ever transgender actor or actress to receive a Tony Award Nomination.
While she is not the first trans performer to be seen on a Broadway stage, she seems to have broken the glass (or some might say, cement) ceiling of being recognized in the upper echelon of talent. She is the first transgender performer to be in a work that has won a Pulitzer. While the Pulitzer recognizes the author, whom she was not, certainly her creative input was weaved into the final book of the play.
L Morgan has journeyed a complex path to self-awareness. “For me, even in terms of being trans, the idea of being anything outside of what I was assigned at birth was just laughable and crazy to me as a child,” she says. “It just, it made no sense. It was not something that I was comfortable saying out loud to anyone or voicing. How would I be looked at by my parents, by anyone else? So, I would sit and dream. The dreaming is, I think, what forms, much of so many queer people’s lives and experiences. Those dreams become our lifelines. I would dream and dream. I have a memory of when I was maybe six years old, in the middle of the night, looking up at my ceiling in my bedroom. Waking up soaked with tears. Saying, if I could wake up and be a girl, a girl, everything would be okay.” She adds. “That is why I am so excited to have gotten my first opportunity to be on Broadway, excited to have gotten a Tony nomination. Because I know that there is some kid somewhere, who is also looking up at the ceiling saying that same thing.”
L Morgan’s first adventure into performing was as a kid and ironically projected her future identity fluidity: she costumed up and performed “Karma Chameleon” in nursery school. She allowed herself to explore her true identity under the guise of a Halloween costume quite a few years later. She went in fully fashion glammed drag, and it changed her world forever. “The minute I did it, I felt a jolt of energy I had never felt before. I finally felt free in so many ways. It’s as if like it’s as if I finally got to breathe.”
When she started work on A Strange Loop, she had been cast under the assumption that she was a cisgender man playing female parts. As the years of work into the play went on, L Morgan’s transgender journey escalated, and she attempted to resign from the play as she realized she was no longer the person they thought they had hired. Not only were they aware, as many close loved ones can be, of her journey, but they embraced her and assured her that she belonged more than ever.
“The characters I played allowed me to, in some ways hide until I was able to be more public about who I am. And once I did that, it certainly brought another layer of depth to what I was doing. I have been that much more comfortable in my own skin. I’ve grown. Transition has settled in more. So, both my viewpoints about the show, the people I’m playing, and my lens of life in general, has evolved through the process. So, certainly the woman I am today, views the show and the script, and the characters I play in a very different way than I did when I first sat down to do it in 2015.”
Her growth within the show, and the growth of the show itself are intertwined. Certainly, some of the magic of the show is that it is not “performed” as much as it is lived out of the souls of the actors in it. L Morgan describes, “The experience of A Strange Loop has been beautiful, complex, layered and ever evolving, for me in particular. Every time I’ve come back to the rehearsal room with this project, my own lens has been slightly evolved or has moved forward in some ways.”
“The piece is as strong as it is because the lens itself, the lens through which the story is told, is very specific and very honest. Inside of that specificity, there are lots of complications and layers and messy stuff. There are things that you don’t ‘talk about out loud’ taboo to discuss. There are things that people see as problematic. There are so many things inside of all of that, but it’s honest and it’s human. It is a 25-year-old, who’s about to turn 26, sort of raging through life, feeling oppressed and unseen and shouting out to find how he fits into the world. It is how he can find his truest voice in a world that doesn’t really allow him to feel like he’s enough. Because it is so specific about those things the show touches so many different people.”
L Morgan demonstrated coming out as a confident transgender actress, with her vulnerabilities unhidden, on the opening night of the play and decisions she made as she stepped into the public spotlight. “I feel a responsibility. It feels like a dream, it feels wonderful. It feels exciting. It’s like everything I’ve ever asked for but the, the most poignant feeling for me is the responsibility. How could I show up for that person that needs to find me.”
“On my opening night on Broadway, we were trying to figure out what I was going to do with dress and hair and all these things. You only get a first time once. You get your debut one time. So how do I make the most of this moment? I felt raw and excited. I needed to show like the most honest and clear-cut version of me I could. I needed to show my shaved head because that’s something that’s important to me. It’s something, I almost never show. I stepped out revealed, exposed and vulnerable on the very public red carpet, speaking to cameras with my buzzed head. Our relationship with hair runs very deep, especially for trans people, and there was something about it, that just felt like, I needed to do it. That kid somewhere under the covers needs to see this trans woman who is in her Broadway debut and she’s in a pretty dress and she has a shaved head, and she seems like she’s comfortable. Then when you hear her talking about it, you hear about her vulnerability and hear that she felt nervous, and you hear that she was dealing with dysphoria and she was dealing with confidence and she was dealing with all these things that we attached to our hair and she reveals those things. Not only because they’re true but because when we reveal Our Truth, our humanness, there is universality there. There is connection inside of our vulnerability.”
While the Tony nomination escalates her Broadway experience, L Morgan does not lose sight of her mortal existence. “On the day that the Tony nominations happened, I fell apart, completely losing it in my bedroom. Then I realized, I still needed to get a couch, and clean up the apartment. I still feel regular. It’s been a wild dream and at the same time, your real life just keeps on going. I am just trying to put one foot in front of the other.”
On the night of the Tonys. L Morgan will be up against some heavy hitters. Not the least of these is Broadway Legend Patty LuPone. L Morgan is ok with that. Her dream has been to see her face in one of the camera boxes on television of the nominee hopefuls.
“The biggest reason I do, what I do is one because I love storytelling. My experience is black, my experience is trans, but I’m just, I’m just a woman. I am a woman who had a trans experience. That’s my story. I know that somewhere there’s s a kid, as I have said, who is just like I was. It is extremely important for me to make that kid proud and make that kid feel seen and make that kid know that it’s possible.”
“I want that kid to be able to know that most importantly, they already are who they are dreaming to be. The world is telling you something different, but you know who you are. There’s nothing wrong with you, there is nothing wrong with us. The world has never told us that we were an option.”
“That kid needs to find my story. They need to know that we exist. It is the reason it took me so long to be public about things and to start speaking, because I wasn’t seeing enough examples. There’s a quote, ‘she needed a hero, so that’s what she became.’ I really live by that.”
She needed to see a transwoman Tony Nominee. So that’s what she became.
When they call the winner on Tony Night, it will be between a Broadway legend and Broadway’s newest icon.
However it goes, another ceiling has been broken forever, and somewhere a trans girl in hiding will realize her dream too can come true.
For better and for worse, Oscar makes history again
The biggest queer moment of the night was Ariana DeBose’s historic win as the first out woman to win the Oscar for Best Supporting Actress
HOLLYWOOD – By the time you read this, the biggest moment from this year’s Oscars will already be old news – but before we can move on to a discussion of what the wins and losses reveal about the state of LGBTQ+ representation, inclusion, and acceptance in the Hollywood film industry, we have to talk about it anyway.
When Will Smith stepped up onto that stage at the Dolby Theatre to physically assault Chris Rock – a professional comedian, doing the job he was hired to do in good faith that he would be safe from bodily harm while doing it – for making an admittedly cheap and not-very-funny joke, it was a moment of instant Oscar history that overshadowed everything else about the evening.
There’s been enough discussion about the incident that we don’t need to take up space for it here – tempting as it may be – other than to assert a firm belief that violence is never a good way to express one’s disapproval of a joke, especially during a live broadcast that is being seen by literally millions of people.
Smith, whether or not he deserved his win for Best Actor, succeeded only in making sure his achievement – which could have been a triumphant and historic moment for Black representation in Hollywood, not to mention an honorable cap for his own long and inspiring career – will be forever marred, and the palpably insincere non-apology that replaced what could otherwise have been his acceptance speech was only a textbook example of putting out fire with gasoline.
Yet that polarizing display also allows us a springboard into the much-more-important subject of queer visibility in the movies, thanks to another Smith-centered controversy (and there have been so many, really) from the early days of his career that sheds a lot of light on the homophobic attitudes of an industry almost as famous as playing to both sides of the fence as it is for the art it produces.
Back in 1993, riding his success as a hip-hop artist-turned actor and springboarding from his “Fresh Prince of Bel-Air” fame into a movie career, Smith appeared in the film adaptation of John Guare’s critically-acclaimed play “Six Degrees of Separation,” playing a young con artist who preys on a wealthy Manhattan couple (played by Donald Sutherland and Stockard Channing), convincing them to give them money and even move into their home before they eventually discover the truth after coming home to find him in bed with a male hustler.
Unsurprisingly (it was 1993, after all), some of the play’s homosexual content was “softened” for the film version, but Smith was still called upon to perform in a scene depicting a kiss between himself and co-star Anthony Michael Hall. After initially agreeing, he abruptly changed his mind (due to advice from friend-and-mentor Denzel Washington, who warned him that kissing a man onscreen could negatively impact his future career) and refused to do the kiss, necessitating the use of camera trickery to accomplish the scene.
Decades later, Smith expressed regret at the choice, saying it was “immature” and that he should have gone ahead with the kiss – but the story nevertheless provides some insight about the pressure placed on actors in Hollywood to appear heterosexual for their audiences, no matter what.
Despite advancements, that pressure continues today – and Smith, whose unorthodox and publicly rocky marriage already has put him under an arguably unfair microscope, has also been alleged (most notoriously by trans actress Alexis Arquette, who made controversial comments about the couple shortly before her death in 2016) to be participating in a sham marriage in an effort to conceal both his own and his wife’s queer sexuality, may well have been feeling it when he was moved to assert his masculinity at the Academy Awards.
True or not, such rumors still have the potential for ruining careers in Hollywood; and while it may be a facile oversimplification to assume that homophobia was behind Smith’s ill-advised breach of decorum, it’s nevertheless a topic that goes straight to the heart of why the Academy, even in 2022, has such an abysmal track record for rewarding – or even including – openly queer actors on Oscar night.
Granted, things have improved, at least in terms of allowing queerness to be on display at the ceremony. On Sunday night, out Best Actress nominee Kristen Stewart attended with her fiancée, Dylan Miller, with the couple sharing a public kiss on the red carpet as they arrived for the festivities; the trio of female hosts – which included out woman of color Wanda Sikes alongside fellow comedians Amy Schumer and Regina Hall – called out Florida’s “Don’t Say Gay” bill with a defiant joke during their opening presentation.
Jessica Chastain – who won Best Actress for playing unlikely LGBTQ ally and AIDS advocate Tammy Faye Baker in “The Eyes of Tammy Faye” – made an emotional speech decrying anti-LGBTQ legislation and advocating for all people to be “accepted for who we are, accepted for who we love, and to live a life without the fear of violence or terror.”
Numerous participants in the evening, whether male or female, queer or straight, took the opportunity to push gender boundaries with their couture for the evening (thanks for that, Timothée Chalamet). Elliot Page, joining Jennifer Garner and JK Simmons for a “Juno” reunion, became the first trans man to be a presenter at the Academy Awards. Finally, two beloved queer icons shared the stage for the evening’s finale, as Lady Gaga was joined by wheelchair-bound Liza Minnelli, frail but full of obvious joy at being there, to present the award for Best Picture.
The biggest queer moment of the night, of course, was also one of the first: Ariana DeBose’s historic win as the first out woman to win the Oscar for Best Supporting Actress. Accepting the award (for which she was considered by far the front-runner), De Bose proudly highlighted her queerness alongside her other intersecting identities, saying “You see an openly queer woman of color, an Afro-Latina, who found her strength and life through art. And that is, I think, what we’re here to celebrate.”
The evening’s other queer nominees did not fare so well. “Flee,” the Danish documentary about a gay Afghan refugee’s escape from his homeland as a teen, made history by scoring triple nominations as Best Documentary Feature, Best International Feature, and Best Animated Feature, but it went home empty-handed. Stewart – the only other openly queer acting nominee – lost to Chastain for Best Actress, and the divisive but queer-themed “Power of the Dog” lost its bid for Best Picture to “CODA,” as well as all of its multiple acting nominations – though its director, Jane Campion, already the first woman to be nominated twice for the Best Director Prize, became the third woman to actually win it.
Of course, the Oscar, like any other award, should be bestowed upon the most deserving nominee regardless of sexuality, gender, or any other “identity” status, and it seems unreasonable to expect all the queer nominees to win – though some might feel a little reparative favoritism wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing when it comes to balancing the scales. Even so, nobody has a chance to win if they’re not even nominated, and that’s where Oscar has repeatedly and persistently fallen short.
According to a recent report from Professor Russell Robinson, Faculty Director of Berkeley Law’s Center on Race, Sexuality & Culture, analysis of more than half a century of Academy Award acting nominations reveals that out of 68 nominations (and 14 wins) for performers playing LGBTQ roles, only two nominees – neither of whom went on to win – were LGBTQ-identified in real life.
While actors like Tom Hanks (“Philadelphia”), Sean Penn (“Milk”), Penélope Cruz (“Parallel Mothers” and “Vicky Cristina Barcelona”), and the late William Hurt (“Kiss of the Spider Woman”) garnered career-boosting acclaim along with their Oscars for playing queer characters, there are no equivalent success stories for queer actors playing straight roles – indeed, only eight openly queer performers have gotten a nomination for ANY role, queer or otherwise, in the entire history of the Oscars, and no transgender performers have ever received one at all.
While one might believe statistics like this are at least beginning to change, bear in mind that both of Benedict Cumberbatch’s two Oscar nods so far were for playing gay men, including this year’s “Power of the Dog” (the first was for playing real-life queer hero Alan Turing in “The Imitation Game”).
The topic of whether straight actors playing queer characters is appropriate at all is of course a hotly-debated one, with reasonable arguments – and queer voices in support of them – on both sides. We won’t attempt an in-depth examination of that issue here, but what is obvious even without the above statistics is that the Academy – or rather, looking at it from a wider scope, Hollywood itself – has a deeply-ingrained prejudice against queerness, regardless of how loudly it proclaims itself to be an ally.
Yes, progress has undeniably been achieved, especially within the last few years; the strong showing of films like “Moonlight,” “Call Me By Your Name,” “Bohemian Rhapsody,” and other LGBTQ-oriented titles on recent Oscar nights has gone neither unnoticed nor unappreciated.
Yet the Academy – as well as the industry it represents – has a pattern of responding to criticism over its inclusiveness in half-measures. It takes more than a hashtag to end sexual harassment of women in the workplace, no matter how many times it’s flashed on the screen during an awards show, and it takes more than a token nomination every few years to give an underrepresented population a fair place at the table, too.
This year’s ceremony was not without its missteps. The choice to bump awards from the broadcast for time while simultaneously devoting minutes to a James Bond tribute or a performance of a song (“We Don’t Talk About Bruno” from Disney’s “Encanto”) that wasn’t even nominated; accompanying the annual “In Memoriam” tribute to the year’s dearly departed with a choreographed dance and vocal performance; the insensitivity of rushing some winners (like “Drive My Car” director Ryusuke Hamaguchi, accepting when his film won for Best International Feature) to finish their speeches while letting others continue uninterrupted; these and other ill-considered decisions had already blemished the show before “the slap heard ‘round the world” ever happened.
Nevertheless, this Oscar show felt more authentic than many in recent memory. There was a raw, unpredictable quality to it, perhaps rooted in the Academy’s controversial choice to relegate several “lesser” awards to a pre-show presentation, that manifested itself in the uncomfortable response of the audience to the often sharp humor of hostesses Sikes, Schuman, and Hall – who mercilessly skewered Hollywood’s say-one-thing-do-another approach to sexism, racism, homophobia and more throughout the show, often with visible apprehension over how their jokes might land.
Nervousness notwithstanding, their presence and their comedic calling-out of industry hypocrisy, along with the willingness of the celebrities in the house to laugh about it, was an element that lifted the proceedings enough to make them not only bearable, but sometimes even enjoyable.
That doesn’t mean the Academy can rest on its laurels. While it’s become common for their awards show – and all the others, for that matter – to serve as a kind of celebrity roast, where jokes are made and laughed at about the industry’s hot-button issue of the day, the persistent problems in Hollywood can’t be corrected just by allowing its workers to blow off steam by making fun of them once a year.
The film industry thinks that by going along with self-mocking humor about its own misogyny, racism, and homophobia, it gets a pass to continue ignoring the growing demand from the public to eliminate those same toxic ingredients from its standard recipe.
Perhaps the Smith incident, based as it seems to have been in a show of masculine dominance, will prompt some soul-searching within the entertainment community over its own rampant hypocrisy. Let’s hope so, because if the Academy Awards are ever to be truly inclusive in their representation of every segment of our society, no matter who they are or who they love, that’s something that has to happen first in the movies their prizes are meant to honor.
We’ve come a long way, to be sure, but we’re not there yet.
Jessica Chastain Accepts the Oscar for Lead Actress:
First openly queer woman of color, Ariana DeBose wins an Oscar
It was DeBose’s first academy award nomination and Oscar. The awards ceremony was held at the Dolby Theatre in Hollywood
HOLLYWOOD – North Carolina native Ariana DeBose, who identifies as a Black-biracial queer Afro-Latina, won the Oscar for Best Supporting Actress Sunday for her portrayal of Anita in Steven Spielberg’s film adaptation of West Side Story.
The film was based on the 1957 Tony award-winning Broadway musical production directed and choreographed by Jerome Robbins with music by Leonard Bernstein, lyrics by Stephen Sondheim, and a book by Arthur Laurents.
DeBose in the category for Best Supporting Actress has previously won a Screen Actors Guild Award, a Golden Globe and a BAFTA. She was awarded the Oscar over her fellow nominees in the category including Aunjanue Ellis for King Richard, Kirsten Dunst for The Power of The Dog, Jessie Buckley for The Lost Daughter, and Dame Judi Dench for Belfast.
“Imagine this little girl in the back seat of a white Ford Focus. When you look into her eyes, you see an openly queer woman of color, an Afro Latina, who found her strength in life through art. And that’s what I believe we’re here to celebrate,” DeBose said in her acceptance speech.
“So to anybody who’s ever questioned your identity ever, ever, ever or you find yourself living in the gray spaces, I promise you this: There is indeed a place for us,” she added.
It was DeBose’s first academy award nomination and Oscar. The awards ceremony was held at the Dolby Theatre in Hollywood and were hosted by Out lesbian comedian Wanda Sykes, actors Regina Hall and Amy Schumer.
Proud Boys disrupting a California Pride drag show get pepper sprayed
WeHo victim of monkeypox: “This … sucks and you don’t want it”
White House announces 17 Presidential Medal of Freedom recipients
Gun industry advertising to kids & restricting ghost guns Calif. laws signed
Florida ‘Don’t Say Gay’ law goes into effect, negative impact already felt
Florida school district to force teachers to Out LGBTQ+ students
Bollywood films increasingly explore LGBTQ+, intersex issues
Supreme Court sides with ex-football coach who led prayers at school
Sparks, Nevada drag queen story hour disrupted by armed Proud Boy
British Prime Minster backs ban on trans swimming athletes
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Sparks, Nevada drag queen story hour disrupted by armed Proud Boy
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