Project and content management for Contemporary Authors volumes
WORK TITLE: The Gang’s All Queer
WORK NOTES:
PSEUDONYM(S):
BIRTHDATE:
WEBSITE:
CITY:
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COUNTRY:
NATIONALITY:
https://www.odu.edu/directory/people/v/vpanfil * https://nyupress.org/author/7502/ * https://www.popmatters.com/the-gangs-all-queer-the-lives-of-gay-gang-members-vanessa-r-panfil-2495382103.html * https://psmag.com/magazine/derailing-stereotypes-of-masculinity-queerness-and-gang-violence
RESEARCHER NOTES:
LC control no.: no2014043419
LCCN Permalink: https://lccn.loc.gov/no2014043419
HEADING: Panfil, Vanessa R.
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100 1_ |a Panfil, Vanessa R.
372 __ |a Criminal justice, Administration of |2 lcsh
373 __ |a State University of New York at Albany. School of Criminal Justice |a Rutgers University. School of Criminal Justice |2 naf
374 __ |a College teachers |2 lcsh
670 __ |a Handbook of LGBT communities, crime, and justice, 2014: |b title page (Vanessa R. Panfil) page 567 (Vanessa R. Panfil received her Ph.D. in Criminal Justice from the University at Albany and is currently a post-doctoral associate in the School of Criminal Justice at Rutgers University (Newark, NJ).)
PERSONAL
Female.
EDUCATION:University at Albany, Ph.D.
ADDRESS
CAREER
Writer and educator. Rutgers University, School of Criminal Justice, Newark, NJ, post-doctoral associate; Old Dominion University, Norfolk, VA, assistant professor.
WRITINGS
SIDELIGHTS
Vanessa R. Panfil is a writer and educator. She holds a Ph.D. from the University at Albany. Panfil has served as a post-doctoral associate at Rutgers University and an assistant professor at Old Dominion University. She is the coeditor, with Dana Peterson, of the 2014 volume, Handbook of LGBT Communities, Crime, and Justice.
In 2017, Panfil released The Gang’s All Queer: The Lives of Gay Gang Members. The volume is a product of her in-depth research into the gang community of Columbus, OH. She explains that her interest in covering the LGBTQ community’s relations to criminology developed when she realized that this aspect seemed to have been neglected by researchers. Panfil also expresses her interest in how gay men fit into the gangs, which tend to have hypermasculine tendencies and ideologies. She notes that she initially found it difficult to find gay gang members to interview in Columbus. However, over time, she spoke with forty-eight gay men who were members of gangs. The gangs with which they were affiliated ranged from those in which all members were presumed to be straight to those in which all members were gay. Panfil describes the lives the men live, their criminal activities, and their social lives.
Critics offered favorable assessments of The Gang’s All Queer. “The book paves the way for a more in-depth understanding of a marginalized community,” asserted a Publishers Weekly writer. In a lengthy review of the book on the PopMatters website, Luiza Lodder commented: “Panfil demonstrates a handy ability to allow the world she is studying to speak for itself. She preserves the slang and the spirit of the person talking when presenting segments of conversations and reflects on the influence her presence might have on their demeanor and their words. Her analyses are astute, her writing is fluid, and her methodologies are sound. But perhaps what she does best is lean into the contradictions that she encounters, instead of ignoring them or trying to solve them.” Referring to the book, Lodder added: “It is not a compilation of firmly worded vindications or a compendium of troubles that gay gang members have had to endure. … And yet, the book functions as an important tool in the recognition and the dismantling of systems that lead to the marginalization, poverty, and violence that men such as Darius and Spiderman face. The simple act of seeking out this particular marginalized group and listening to them, talking to them, and asking them about their lives amounts to a form of activism at its most powerful.”
Of the book, Terri Schlichenmeyer, contributor to the Out Smart website, remarked: “It’s a very interesting take on a world that never makes the headlines.” Schlichenmeyer added: “Even readers who might struggle with the college-thesis feel of this book will ultimately come away with a better grasp of a world that they probably had never thought about before. Certainly for scholars, but also for readers interested in LGBT culture, The Gang’s All Queer is a pretty safe bet.” Writing on the Pacific Standard website, Peter C. Baker suggested: “The Gang’s All Queer, Panfil’s book documenting her investigation, is a gem of contemporary sociology: a potent reminder of the discipline’s power to work past a culture’s assumptions and, in the process, to articulate the reach and influence of those assumptions. It is a decidedly academic title, but its influence is likely to eventually spread far beyond the academy.” Baker also stated: “Panfil, a queer woman, expresses some ambivalence about documenting all this; she doesn’t want to be providing talking points for future demonization. But she argues, convincingly, that to gloss over her subjects’ legal transgressions would only reinforce a well-intentioned but patronizing narrative.”
BIOCRIT
PERIODICALS
Publishers Weekly, June 19, 2017, review of The Gang’s All Queer: The Lives of Gay Gang Members, p. 104.
ONLINE
Conversation, https://theconversation.com/ (April 11, 2018), author profile.
Out Smart, http://www.outsmartmagazine.com/ (October 1, 2017), Terri Schlichenmeyer, review of The Gang’s All Queer.
Pacific Standard Online, https://psmag.com/ (August 18, 2017), Peter C. Baker, review of The Gang’s All Queer.
PopMatters, https://www.popmatters.com/ (September 12, 2017), Luiza Lodder, review of The Gang’s All Queer.
Vanessa R. Panfil is the author of The Gang's All Queer: The Lives of Gay Gang Members (NYU Press, 2017), and the co-editor of the Handbook of LGBT Communities, Crime, and Justice (Springer, 2014). Her research explores how intersections of gender and sexuality shape individuals’ experiences with gangs, crime, victimization, and the criminal & juvenile justice systems. She is currently an Assistant Professor in the Department of Sociology and Criminal Justice at Old Dominion University.
QUOTED: "The book paves the way for a more in-depth understanding of a marginalized community."
Print Marked Items
The Gang's All Queer: The Lives of Gay
Gang Members
Publishers Weekly.
264.25 (June 19, 2017): p104+.
COPYRIGHT 2017 PWxyz, LLC
http://www.publishersweekly.com/
Full Text:
The Gang's All Queer: The Lives of Gay Gang Members
Vanessa R. Panfil. New York Univ., $28 (312p) ISBN 978-1-4798-7002-8
Queer feminist criminology scholar Panfil inserts herself into the underground of an underground, studying
the lives and experiences of 48 gang-involved gay men (and 53 gay men overall) in the Columbus, Ohio,
metro area. Panfil explains that her study was motivated by a general lack of research in the field of
criminology as it pertains to the LGBTQ community. More specifically, she wanted to better understand the
experiences of gay men in the hypermasculine context of gang life. The book, which is essentially an
academic account of her research, complicates assumptions that "male gang members and active offenders
are exclusively heterosexual" and that "gang membership and violence are ways to construct stereotypical
masculine and heterosexual identities only." Panfil reports that the day-to-day experiences of gay men differ
depending on whether they're members of straight gangs, gay gangs, or hybrid gangs. She achieves
remarkable access to these young men--her fieldwork included attending social events with her subjects,
driving around with them, and going to their homes. The book paves the way for a more in-depth
understanding of a marginalized community. (Aug.)
Source Citation (MLA 8th
Edition)
"The Gang's All Queer: The Lives of Gay Gang Members." Publishers Weekly, 19 June 2017, p. 104+.
General OneFile, http://link.galegroup.com/apps/doc/A496643912/ITOF?
u=schlager&sid=ITOF&xid=12123e34. Accessed 27 Mar. 2018.
Gale Document Number: GALE|A496643912
QUOTED: "Panfil demonstrates a handy ability to allow the world she is studying to speak for itself. She preserves the slang and the spirit of the person talking when presenting segments of conversations and reflects on the influence her presence might have on their demeanor and their words. Her analyses are astute, her writing is fluid, and her methodologies are sound. But perhaps what she does best is lean into the contradictions that she encounters, instead of ignoring them or trying to solve them."
"It is not a compilation of firmly worded vindications or a compendium of troubles that gay gang members have had to endure. ... And yet, the book functions as an important tool in the recognition and the dismantling of systems that lead to the marginalization, poverty, and violence that men such as Darius and Spiderman face. The simple act of seeking out this particular marginalized group and listening to them, talking to them, and asking them about their lives amounts to a form of activism at its most powerful."
'The Gang's All Queer' Challenges Simplistic Assumptions About Gang Members
LUIZA LODDER 12 Sep 2017
VANESSA PANFIL SEEKS TO COMPLICATE THE POPULAR NARRATIVES SURROUNDING GANG MEMBERS AND THE HYPERMASCULINE, HYPER-HETEROSEXUAL LIVES THEY LEAD.
THE GANG'S ALL QUEER: THE LIVES OF GAY GANG MEMBERSPublisher: NYU Press
Length: 312 pages
Price: $28.00
Author: Vanessa R. Panfil
PUBLICATION DATE: 2017-08
AFFILIATE
AMAZON
Vanessa Panfil's tactical approach as both an observer and a participant reminds one of John Dollard's seminal work, Caste and Class in a Southern Town (1937).Simplification is a human defense mechanism. We gravitate towards stories with clear-cut characters, predictable storylines, and uplifting conclusions. There is safety in the familiarity of the rom coms that end in marriage, the action movies that show handsome white men staving off the apocalypse, and the military dramas that glorify the camaraderie and heroism of traumatized American soldiers.
Even in our daily lives, we constantly operate under the influence of mental heuristics that developed as we grew up and exist to save us time and energy: the postman is not a threatening person; the black boy in the hoodie across the street might be dangerous; the woman in the miniskirt looks like a slut; the man in the suit coming out of the Mercedes is someone to respect. To the part of our psyche that relies on these first impressions, their accuracy, fairness, or truthfulness does not matter. In fact, to inject nuance into our crude categorizations defeats their purpose and leaves us somewhat adrift -- what shall we do with the information that the postman beats his wife, or that the black boy in the hoodie just won a scholarship to Harvard? Now we're uncomfortable. Now we can no longer draw unshakeable conclusions about the world around us.
The existence of gay gang members exerts a similar effect on our understanding of human behavior. Except for Omar Little in The Wire or Chiron in Moonlight, gay gang members don't get much visibility in film, television, or other aspects of popular culture. "Homo thugs", as they are called, tend to blur the lines between the categories to which we cling to make sense of the world. One box is labeled "gangsters", the other box is labeled "gay people", and each box contains all the imagery, connotations, and associated subjects that accompany each topic. Rarely do the twain meet.
But mainstream pop culture, with all its reliance on boxes, is usually not a trustworthy source of information from which to derive an understanding of the different facets of human nature in all its contradictory glory. Books like Vanessa Panfil's The Gang's All Queer, however, provide an overview of the subject without shying away from the tricky questions: how do these young men reconcile their sexual orientation with their identity as gangsters? How do they protect themselves and safeguard their reputations without repressing or sacrificing their desire to be with other men? How do they negotiate public perceptions of "gayness" within their families, gangs, and social circles?
In The Gang's All Queer, Panfil seeks to complicate the popular narratives surrounding gang members and the hypermasculine, hyper-heterosexual lives they lead. Her source material comes straight from the mouths of over 50 young men who identify as gay gang members and who, all together, had involvement in up to 38 different gangs in the Columbus, Ohio area, some of which included nationally known groups such as the Bloods and the Gangster Disciples. Her tactical approach as both an observer and a participant reminds one of John Dollard's seminal work, Caste and Class in a Southern Town (1937). Much like Dollard, Panfil demonstrates a handy ability to allow the world she is studying to speak for itself. She preserves the slang and the spirit of the person talking when presenting segments of conversations and reflects on the influence her presence might have on their demeanor and their words. Her analyses are astute, her writing is fluid, and her methodologies are sound.
But perhaps what she does best is lean into the contradictions that she encounters, instead of ignoring them or trying to solve them. Take the use of the word "faggot", for example. In her analysis of all the different contexts in which the word could be acceptably used within the gay community, Panfil lays out all the caveats and restrictions: some people reclaim it as a greeting, but only if addressing or being addressed by another gay person; others use it as an insult for rival gang members; other men use it to disparage certain types of lifestyles, attitudes, and actions that could imperil the masculine personas they cultivate publically. About this last usage, Panfil writes: "[The gang members'] descriptions of who was “the fag” or who was “too gay” help illustrate the value they placed on traditional masculine behavior. To be accepted and respected as gay was seen as challenge enough; were participants to be associated with the folk devil of “the fag”, it would endanger their claim to masculine respectability." Conversations with the gang members Spiderman and Darius reveal the scope of the ignominy that a gay man denoted as a "fag" would suffer in the eyes of most men in Panfil's sample:
“Spiderman stated, "A fag would be somebody that acts gay, dress gay. You wear tights, you ‘Girl this, girl that,’ just actin’ gay.” When I asked Darius to expand on how someone “acts gay,” he replied: “Oh my God, they switch! They wear colorful clothes, they get all these type of piercins, their haircuts. Their voice is like a lil girl, and you be lookin’ like, ‘You grown! Act like you got some balls between your legs.’ And then they wear the gayest shoes! Half the time, they wear girls’ shoes! And I be lookin’ like, ‘What?’ And they loud, some of ’em be loud for no reason.”
The irony of a man who has experienced the alienation of being called a "faggot" perpetuating the word's homophobic and misogynistic message is not lost on Panfil, who maintains that no easy conclusion can be drawn. Should everyone -- both gay and straight -- simply stop using the word? Should someone who speaks like Spiderman or Darius be called out and shamed? Are gay gang members unworthy representations of gay people in general? These are the questions that tend to end up implied in headlines and grappled with in op-eds and think pieces. Similar to the way the nuanced and context-dependent conclusions of most scientific studies run the risk of becoming oversimplified under the spotlight of national news outlets, many of Panfil's findings and observations are vulnerable to misinterpretation and politically-motivated distortion.
It bears mentioning that Panfil's role in the book is not to perform the work of an activist, nor to police the language or behavior of the people who are sharing their experiences with her. She does not sugarcoat her findings, but neither does she dramatize them. Regarding Spiderman's or Darius' opinion on fags, for example, she crafts a solid and evidence-based argument about how the term "faggot" reveals the tensions and expectations that all men regardless of sexual orientation confront when consolidating a "respectable" gender identity to perform in public situations:
"[A]n in-depth analysis of fag/faggot reveals insights far beyond its status as an epithet that has been occasionally and situationally reclaimed; it also indicates pervasive societal expectations that demand normative masculinity and discourage femininity among men, regardless of sexual orientation. That is, even among a group whose members have been called fags in an attempt to mandate their behavior, homophobic and misogynistic uses of fag/faggot persist. Set largely against a backdrop of negative perceptions of gay men, calling another gay man a fag was one way to create and enforce boundaries between appropriate and inappropriate behavior, and thus construct a respectable gay identity. Participants’ negative uses of the term did not always map onto their heterosexual family/friends’ usages of it, suggesting that at least some of the standards for respectable gay identity and gender presentation arose in queer circles, though they were likely influenced by outsiders’ expectations of them."
Such a paragraph is duly suited to the type of resource that The Gang's All Queer purports to be -- it is not a compilation of firmly worded vindications or a compendium of troubles that gay gang members have had to endure (though the book certainly addresses the challenges these men face and the forms of resistance that they must enact). And yet, the book functions as an important tool in the recognition and the dismantling of systems that lead to the marginalization, poverty, and violence that men such as Darius and Spiderman face. The simple act of seeking out this particular marginalized group and listening to them, talking to them, and asking them about their lives amounts to a form of activism at its most powerful, because it entails the strengthening of social networks and the creation of scholarship about a woefully misunderstood and understudied topic.
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In her Methods Appendix, Panfil cites the words of a random email she received in response to a Craigslist ad she put up about her research: "Vanessa darlin’, save your pennies and watch TV shows such as the cable channels TruTV, History, and others. Trust me, you will get enough stories from guys in the age group you mentioned on these shows … Not only that Vanessa, trust me, many of their stories are explicit, raunchy and hot. You will throw down your writing tablet and wallow in the sheer wanton masculine natural tales spoken by these guys."
In other words, the lives of gay gang members in the eyes of this Internet stranger are nothing but fodder for TV shows to exoticize and sensationalize. We go back once again to the human urge to simplify, to resist complexity. It's easy to write about gang members as killers who lust for blood and money or gay men as perverts and freaks; it's also easy to absorb these stories without questioning them. But to genuinely engage with another human being whose identity only barely overlaps with yours is a daunting task. Yet this is a challenge that the Western world desperately, sorely demands of its citizens right now, because the gulf separating poor from rich, straight from LGBTQ+, black from white, rural from urban, man from woman, and conservative from liberal widens with each passing day of Trump's presidency. Though the idea of dialogue seems far-fetched and laughable in these days when self-proclaimed alt-right Neo-Nazis march in the streets unfazed, Panfil's response to the Internet troll emblematizes the simplicity of the concept of listening to increase understanding: "I didn’t want to conduct a voyeuristic study of people and their behaviors that are 'explicit, raunchy and hot,' but rather gain a better understanding of marginalized young men’s social worlds and identity negotiation." With The Gang's All Queer, she accomplishes that and more.
QUOTED: "It’s a very interesting take on a world that never makes the headlines."
"Even readers who might struggle with the college-thesis feel of this book will ultimately come away with a better grasp of a world that they probably had never thought about before. Certainly for scholars, but also for readers interested in LGBT culture, The Gang’s All Queer is a pretty safe bet."
The lives of gay gang members.
By Terri Schlichenmeyer
You felt surprisingly safe. There you were, in a place that was certainly iffy, but you were totally comfortable. No danger, no darkness, no problems—and in the new book The Gang’s All Queer by Vanessa R. Panfil, no world that you’ve ever seen before, either.
The Gang’s All Queer: The Lives of Gay Gang Members
by Vanessa R. Panfil
2017
New York University Press (nyupress.org)
312 pages
$28 U.S. and Canada
Everybody knows that being a teen isn’t easy. Being a gay teen is even harder—which, as a white lesbian woman, Panfil knew. Her work in a Columbus, Ohio, LGBTQ center for young adults showed her realities beyond what she’d lived herself, and it sparked an interest in examining the Columbus gang culture. She already knew a handful of gay gang members, and after she had gained their trust, those men introduced her to a web of people who shared their world with her.
When most people think of gangs, the image that comes to mind is one of tattoos and machismo. Panfil found some of that, but it was often used to hide LGBTQ sexual identity; indeed, many (though far from all) of the men she interviewed were not out to their fellow gang members. Panfil says there are three distinct kinds of gangs: all-gay gangs (of which there aren’t many), heterosexual gangs (in which being gay could be dangerous), and the more tolerant, easy-going “hybrid” gangs (with perhaps a 50/50 mix of gay and straight members).
Panfil points out that most of the men she interviewed were careful to stress that they were very masculine. In spite of that, more than two out of three gay men fought someone else over homophobic harassment, and protection from such was not the main reason for joining a gang. The main reasons were the perception of “family” that gangs provided, or because of deep friendships. Furthermore, while there was a certain amount of crime—mostly petty theft or selling drugs and sex (although fierce violence was not unknown)—many gay gangs offered encouragement, a more democratic atmosphere, help for job-seekers, and educational support, thus acting more as “cliques” than gangs.
Let’s start here: The Gang’s All Queer is a bit on the academic side, so it won’t be on anyone’s relax-in-a-hammock-and-read list. Having said that, it’s a very interesting take on a world that never makes the headlines.
Not only did author Vanessa R. Panfil have access to a group of men who were willing to tell all, but she fully used that access to understand why a gay man would turn to groups that are typically antigay. This leads her to the bigger picture, and the larger questions of violence and remaining closeted, as well as problems with being black, gay, and a gangster. And because her subjects so casually use offensive slang labels, that language, as well as the issues of sex workers, are examined.
Even readers who might struggle with the college-thesis feel of this book will ultimately come away with a better grasp of a world that they probably had never thought about before. Certainly for scholars, but also for readers interested in LGBT culture, The Gang’s All Queer is a pretty safe bet.
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QUOTED: "The Gang's All Queer, Panfil's book documenting her investigation, is a gem of contemporary sociology: a potent reminder of the discipline's power to work past a culture's assumptions and, in the process, to articulate the reach and influence of those assumptions. It is a decidedly academic title, but its influence is likely to eventually spread far beyond the academy."
"Panfil, a queer woman, expresses some ambivalence about documenting all this; she doesn't want to be providing talking points for future demonization. But she argues, convincingly, that to gloss over her subjects' legal transgressions would only reinforce a well-intentioned but patronizing narrative."
DERAILING STEREOTYPES OF MASCULINITY, QUEERNESS, AND GANG VIOLENCE
In her new book, The Gang's All Queer, Vanessa Panfil offers a detailed and nuanced portrayal of homosexual life among gangs in Ohio.
PETER C. BAKERAUG 18, 2017
176
SHARES
The Gang's All Queer: The Lives of Gay Gang Members.
The Gang's All Queer: The Lives of Gay Gang Members.
(Photo: New York University Press)
The Gang's All Queer
Vanessa Panfil
New York University Press
Criminologist Vanessa Panfil spent over a year studying gay gangs in Columbus, Ohio, before she even found a single active gay gang to study. Eventually, over two years, she identified 48 gay men, most of them black, who were current or former gang members and willing to be interviewed. Twenty-six were in gangs with 100 percent gay membership; many were in "hybrid" gangs with sizable gay minorities; the rest were closeted members of gangs where everyone's heterosexuality was assumed.
The Gang's All Queer, Panfil's book documenting her investigation, is a gem of contemporary sociology: a potent reminder of the discipline's power to work past a culture's assumptions and, in the process, to articulate the reach and influence of those assumptions. It is a decidedly academic title, but its influence is likely to eventually spread far beyond the academy.
Sadly, if you have already encountered a consideration of gay gangs, it's likely thanks to Bill O'Reilly and Fox News. In 2007, O'Reilly brought a former Washington, D.C., police officer-turned-Fox News contributor on the air to alert his millions of viewers to a new threat sweeping America's cities: violent gay gangs. The thinly sourced segment distilled conservative fears about the "homosexual agenda" into a lurid cable-news nightmare, one in which violent gay and lesbian groups were physically attacking straight people for fun, raping their children, and, in O'Reilly's words, "indoctrinating them into homosexuality." (His source later conceded that he'd exaggerated his case.)
The real-life gay gangs that Panfil encounters—including the Boys of Bang, the Royal Family, and the Firing Squad—aren't interested in waging war on the straight people of Columbus. Instead, they exist for more or less the same reasons most gangs exist. They give their members a place to belong; a stable source of identity; a group of people to hang out with; and a network of support and protection not unlike a family, something particularly valuable for people whose biological families don't accept their sexuality.
And, yes, gay gangs (like their straight counterparts) use violence to protect their reputations and connect economically marginalized citizens with opportunities to make money in ways that violate the law. The Gang's All Queer shows us gay gang members engaged in theft, financial fraud, and sex work. Panfil, a queer woman, expresses some ambivalence about documenting all this; she doesn't want to be providing talking points for future demonization. But she argues, convincingly, that to gloss over her subjects' legal transgressions would only reinforce a well-intentioned but patronizing narrative—the flip-side of O'Reilly-style moral panic—in which gay men are only either perfectly "respectable" citizens or passive victims of prejudice.
The openly gay gang members Panfil interviews give voice to a complex double-bind. Like so many men before them, they look to gang membership as a way to broadcast a cluster of traits our culture calls "masculine": strength, bravery, a willingness to fight when slighted. At the same time, they know all too well that traditional masculinity defines itself in opposition to their sexuality—that, for many men, gang-affiliated and otherwise, gay-bashing is an easy way to affirm their "real" manhood. The reality of gay gangsters exposes the flimsiness of such cultural archetypes. But that doesn't mean gay gangsters live unconstrained by convention; indeed, their conversations with Panfil are full of opinions about how stereotypically flamboyant or feminine it ever is acceptable (or advisable) to be, and how the answer varies from context to context.
In the book"s most delightful scene, Panfil tags along with some gay gang members to a "vogue" ball, where participants compete in categories that include stylized dancing, emceeing, and modeling. The ball Panfil attends features a "thug realness" category; entrants vie to see who can most convincingly and stylishly inhabit the "real thug" archetype: grills, bling, baggy pants. They're paying homage to a stereotype of masculinity and—simultaneously, deliciously—reveling in that stereotype's radical incompleteness. "Thug" becomes a costume that you could, under the right conditions, be free to put on and take off. "Anybody can be a gangster," one of Panfil's interviewees says. "Even a gay boy can be a gangster, even if he really feminine."
In addition to appropriating old archetypes, Panfil's gay gangsters are creating new ones. They talk about "fagging out": responding to homophobic taunts or intimidation with a form of aggression that combines stereotypical flamboyance and the loud threat of violence. One man tells Panfil that, when needed, his entire gang will "fag out" together to scare off groups of gay-bashers. Another man proudly recalls telling one of his attackers, "I'm gonna show you what this faggot can do!"
A version of this story originally appeared in the August/September 2017 issue of Pacific Standard. Subscribe now and get eight issues/year or purchase a single copy of the magazine.
A version of this story originally appeared in the August/September 2017 issue of Pacific Standard. Subscribe now and get eight issues/year or purchase a single copy of the magazine.
(Photo: Joe Toreno)
Fans of HBO's The Wire loved the character Omar Little, an openly gay man who robbed drug dealers and gave much of his earnings back to the people of Baltimore. But Omar was a gangster without a gang—that is, not really a gangster at all. In Moonlight, this year's Oscar sensation, the protagonist is a gay man named Chiron who climbs the ranks of Miami's drug trade but remains deeply closeted. Both portrayals are sympathetic and moving, but both implicitly frame gay gangs as a structural impossibility. The Gang's All Queer suggests modes of existence that the American mainstream still hasn't come close to understanding, or even acknowledging.
In her afterword, Panfil expresses confidence that Columbus is no anomaly. I suspect she's right, and that we'll soon be hearing more about the gay gangs of America. Last year, a new documentary called Check It hit the festival circuit in search of distribution. It tells the story of a Washington, D.C., gang of black LGBTQ youth. Several journalists covering the film described its subject as "America's only gay gang"—a phrase they probably didn't even consider a candidate for fact checking. Cultural blind spots are resilient things.
One of Panfil's interviewees, a closeted gay man in a traditionally straight gang, shares a story that neatly embodies how much we all have to learn about each other. Two men in his gang know he's gay, for the simple reason that they met while looking for sex partners online. "I talked to 'em on the Internet," the man tells Panfil. "They didn't know who I was, I didn't know who they was, and when we met up, it was them. Like: 'Oh, wow. I can't believe it was y'all!'"
A version of this story originally appeared in the August/September 2017 issue of Pacific Standard. Subscribe now and get eight issues/year or purchase a single copy of the magazine.