What Is The Glinting Goldfish In The Muddy Waters Of Your Mind’s Eye?
Holy shit! It’s a new year!
And while I recognize that much of this old-leaf-turning is arbitrary and often tied up with a tremendous amount of self-loathing that escalates with increasing fervor and volume as that goddamn ball drops — just what the hell have I accomplished in the past 365 days?! — there is always something radiant that glints beneath the admittedly very muddy surface of my psyche. It shimmers and darts in the eddies of my inky-brown fear like a slender goldfish flashing its scales against the bright noon sun.
My goldfish this year? I’m finally mounting a play I’ve been working on — on and off, on and off, off and on, on, on, on and OFF AS HELL DON’T LOOK AT ME — for about six years.
It’s a queer modern adaptation of Pygmalion — rendered as a rock opera, of course! — and in short, it’s a goddamn Herculean effort of love and community and preposterously kind and generous and talented humans to get this thing off the ground.
And while my heart thrums like that of a giant feral cat chomping tunafish that this story is finally being performed, it’s also terrifying — my dreams, night after night, are a crushing blur of anxiety. Maybe the writing is actually crap. Maybe the songs are saccharine or soggy on the ears. Maybe my parents will fly across the country to see it only to be horrified at my mediocrity.
But all in all, I head to rehearsal almost every night — five days a week to be clear — grinning into the dusk because I’m making art. With friends. And strangers. Who are becoming friends. We’re taking giant preposterous leaps of faith into one another’s arms trying our damnedest to catch each other.
Anyway. If you live in/near San Francisco…
PLEASE COME OUT AND SEE IT AT THE END OF FEBRUARY…!!!
(Oh! Establishment readers can use code EST20 for 20% off!)
Tell me what is making your heart sing and singe and simper and soar right now. I’d love to show up — literally and metaphysically — and love up on it.
With joy + rage,
Co-founder | Creative Director
By Muqing Zhang
Ginsberg has become a feminist icon. But in her work, she destroyed any and all affirmative action and public programs that favored women.
By Suzannah Weiss
When Jessica Pin got a labiaplasty at age 18, her consent form read, “excision of redundant labia.” Instead, the doctor cut off the entirety of her labia minora and performed a clitoral hood reduction she never agreed to.
LOOKING TO FEEL A LITTLE LESS SCARED AND SHITTY ABOUT OUR LITTLE BLUE PLANET?!
TRY SPENDING $5 A MONTH ON INCLUSIVE MEDIA!
BECOME AN EST. MEMBER TODAY!
(THAT’S FORGOING ONE ADMITTEDLY DELICIOUS CUP OF FANCY COFFEE.)
By Katy Harnett
It places the blame squarely on a certain type of woman. You know, those ambitious bitches who don’t value family, who insist on having jobs or not getting married or using contraception. Now not being pregnant isn’t just a rejection of the duties of being a woman, it’s a rejection of civic duty.
By Michelle Sharpe
Explainers everywhere are working overtime to preserve patriarchal values. One popular strategy that continues to crop up states that, “rape is different from other crimes because it’s a ‘he said/she said’ situation.”
This faulty line of reasoning reveals three things: an assumption that in disputes between men and women, men must be given the benefit of the doubt; an assumption that all rapists are men and all victims women; and glaring ignorance about how the U.S. justice system actually operates.
By Antonia Crane
It’s a crime to be a sex worker in America, to be a woman of color, to flaunt our curves, to show our nipples, to utilize our bodies and sexuality in a way that supports our lives while simultaneously being denied financial access to resources. It’s illegal to thrive in a primarily high femme workforce.