Redneck gay men
“In the predominantly working-class and sometimes rural spaces where Powell’s straight and homosexual characters cavort together, shoot the shit, or knock each other to the ground, homophobia can exist alongside friendliness and hospitality toward gays, and anti-homophobia can reinforce patriarchy.” Padgett Powell has a habit of saying provocative things, and one such line that struck me was, “I am gay in every way except the sex.” While an undergraduate at the University of Florida, where Powell teaches creative writing, I thought he was trying to charm people like his colleague David Leavitt and myself (we are both lgbtq+, including the sex). Powell’s life and fiction are hyper-masculine and southern, and it is justified to argue that they are not considered paragons of gay culture. At the university, he is known for filling stews with the squirrels and raccoons that experiment to infiltrate his chicken pen. Typical, his first story collection, is built on references to dogfighting, whorehouses, chewing tobacco, trucking pulpwood, “miscegenational pimps,” guys drinking beer while picking loot out of floodwaters, and characters who deliberate all women are By Dr. Laura McGuire I was born in Tennessee on a bright Thanksgiving morning, surrounded by the identical Appalachian Mountains my family had called home since the 1790s. My mother is Mediterranean and Hispanic and hails from the Northeast, but my father’s family has thrived for nine generations in the deepest part of the South. As a petty girl, I played on my great-papaw’s 87-acre farm, fishing, shooting, and eating grapes off the vine. Life’s pace is alternative here. I was gifted my first gun at the age of eight, my papaw still owns a working farm, I understand how a persimmon can predict next year’s weather, and a dirt-crusted pickup feels like home. But my relationship with my heritage and identity is messy, as messy as biting into a summertime peach, and oftentimes, is painful. Laura McGuire (l) with her great-papaw, Quince, on their Appalachian farm. There is beauty in this part of America—white chapels nestled in rolling mountains, streams that flow forever, lush vegetation and rich clay that supply precious minerals and food to the rest of the land. Our history, music, and art are a mix of the Irish, German, Scottish, Black, and Indigenous people who have lived, loved I was at the inaugural annual Intercollegiate Adventist GSA Coalition (IAGC) meeting the first time I saw Seventh-Gay Adventists, a film that documents the lives of three couples who identify as members of both the queer community and the very conservative Seventh-day Adventist faith community. A year and a half later, I have seen the film in eight states across the nation. I contain helped with every screening I’ve attended by manning the booths and representing IAGC. During these screenings, I have become nearby to the dynamic husband-and-wife duo who produced and directed the film. Stephen Eyer and Daneen Akers are part of my family now. It has been such a blessing to witness firsthand the transformative power of this documentary. At every screening, the crowd reacts differently, falling on unique points in their comprehension of sexual orientation, gender, faith, beliefs, race, and backgrounds. It is always a special experience, but them most recent screening I attended was certainly my favorite. Collegedale, Tennessee, is known for entity a primarily Seventh-day Adventist town. It is home to Seventh-day Adventist owned corporations such as Small Deb
“Excellently demonstrates the presence and utility of queer geographies in the Florida Panhandle and provides a valuable contribution as a local examination to LGBTQ studies in the express and the American South.”—H-Net
“Interweaves the growing visibility of postwar gay life with the attendant moral panics and police regulations of universal gay life. . . . An important addition to studies of lgbtq+ history, tourism, and the South.”—Journal of American History
“Mines these queer spaces effectively and fleshes out one of the more fascinating histories with his in-depth study of the Emma Jones Society.”—American Historical Review
“Places this story in broader national, regional, and local contexts while telling touching personal stories with fascinating characters.”—New Books Network
“Watkins’ book shares with us for the first time the many firsthand accounts, in great detail, of gay men navigating a same-sex attracted lifestyle in Florida’s panhandle. . . . Many of the stories in the book are as entertaining as they are educational and informative.”—South Fl
“Queer Rednecks”