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I’m your Venus
Local poet has new anthology out
Maybe you think poetry is only for straight white men hobnobbing on Mount Olympus. If that’s your take, you haven’t met Venus Thrash, a Washington black, lesbian poet whose debut poetry collection “The Fateful Apple” is just out from the Hawkins Publishing Group.
Written with deceptive simplicity, poignancy and incisiveness, the poetry in this volume reflects on subjects ranging from Oprah to same-sex marriage to the blues singer Willie Mae Thornton.
The poems in “The Fateful Apple” “… reside in … the ‘matrix’ of the blues,” Keith D. Leonard, Ph.D., author of “Fettered Genius: the African-American Bardic Poet from Slavery to Civil Rights,” writes in the forward to the book, “the intersection of shared history, artistic techniques and sensibilities … which marks this most defining of our cultural forms.”
Thrash, 45 and the mother of a 6-year-old son, told the Blade in a telephone interview that she wrote her first poem 40 years ago.
“I was in first grade. It was a poem about my mother,” she says. “I was a hit in the school district language arts festival. In third grade, a poem I wrote about happiness was published in the school system quarterly newsletter.”
Though D.C. has been her “adopted” home for more than 20 years, Thrash’s roots are in the deep South.
“My childhood summers were in Rincon and Sylvania, Georgia,” she says. “My memory is full of ghosts.”
“I am seven/I want to be an angel/… because I have never been an angel,” Thrash writes in the poem “Angel. “I must act like a lady/… I have never acted like a lady/ … I have demanded to be called Vince.”
“I’ve never been in the closet,” Thrash, who has a master’s degree in fiction and poetry from American University, says. Early on, “I knew that there was something different about me,” she says. “I search for the word for it for years. I liked girls. I understood girls. I didn’t understand why I was the only one experiencing that.”
It was only when she grew older and read more that Thrash could “pin it down.” Now she’s out and proud. “I am what I am,” she said referencing Ralph Ellison’s iconic novel “Invisible Man.”
Her journey to this pride and self-acceptance wasn’t always easy.
“I was brought up in the southern black Baptist church. When I was young, there was this wonderful, great spirit of love and acceptance,” Thrash says. “I knew the God of my youth to be a loving God.”
But as Thrash became a teenager, this started to change.
“A new God was introduced to me who was vengeful and intolerant. I didn’t know that other God,” she says. “I had to reconcile my sexuality, my relationship to God and to the church. … I knew that the God who made me was loving and tolerant.”
“Mama has said I am her angel/Daddy loves every loud-laughing, tree-climbing part of me,” Thrash writes in “Angel.”
She credits her parents with helping her accept herself.
“They always knew I was ‘funny,’ that I was a tomboy. I never felt unwanted,” she says. “My parents had struggles growing up in the segregated South. They were strict. It wasn’t ‘Ozzie and Harriet.’ But I felt a sense of love.”
Over the years, Thrash has grown into the writer and poet she is today. At American University, she discovered her love and comfort level with academia.
“There I found that I’m like a sponge. I’m intellectually curious,” Thrash says. “I was the only student of color. But I was able to thrive there. I was so fully accepted. Even with my varied identities,I never felt rejected.”
Thrash, who was a finalist in the 2012 Jean Feldman Poetry Prize and the 2009 Arktoi Books Poetry Prize, loves teaching.
“I feel passionate about it. I love interacting with students,” she says. “Not only am I teaching in that exchange, I’m also learning. I’ve taught in diverse settings — in women’s correctional facilities and under-served high schools.”
When she writes her poetry, Thrash isn’t thinking about changing the world.
“I’m well aware of social justice issues. But, I’m writing from a place that’s ancient and unconscious,” she says. “What’s born out of that, may, with of the grace of God, have some effect on social issues.”
Though never preachy, Thrash’s poetry often offers an incisive take on social justice issues. Written before same-sex marriage was legalized in D.C., her poem “Uncivil” is a pointed, yet joyous rebuke to any government that dictates whom anyone can love.
“There will be no parchment certificate/stamped with any state’s approval/confirming we’re married or in love,” Thrash writes. “But we will jump over a brand new straw/broom, we will light candles & pour red/wine into the earth where our ancestors sleep.”
In her poem “Oprah Loves Gayle,” Thrash takes friendship out of the tabloids.
“I was disgusted was how their relationship was displayed in news cycles,” Thrash says. “People can’t believe two strong black women can be friends without being lovers. The world has always felt threatened by powerful women.”
Thrash’s poems affirm love among women. In her poem “To the Fems,” she writes, “Who would love us/short-haired,/butch women.”
“Death come/stalking early/before daylight catch her/pissy drunk, beat bloody or rocked/tender-slow in the arms/of women who/love her,” Thrash writes in “Big Mama’s Finest Hour,” a poem for blues singer Willie May Thornton.
Thrash is a vital part of the D.C. poetry scene. In 2012, she was a featured poet at Split This Rock, a biennial festival that highlights poetry and social justice.
“Venus Thrash brings her full self to her poetry …{Her} poems are lush and erotic and angry and celebratory,” Sarah Browning, Split This Rock executive director, said in an e-mail.
“It’s scary when you first read a poem aloud,” Thrash says. “Then you’re aware of what went right and what went wrong, of its emotional and political meaning.”
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Author of new book empowers Black ‘fat’ femme voices
After suicidal thoughts, attacks from far right, a roadmap to happiness
In 2017, Jon Paul was suicidal. In nearly every place Paul encountered, there were signs that consistently reminded the transgender community that their presence in America by the far right is unwelcomed.
Former President Donald Trump’s anti-trans rhetoric is “partly” responsible for Paul’s suicidal contemplation.
“I’m driving out of work, and I’m seeing all of these Trump flags that are telling me that I could potentially lose my life over just being me and wanting to be who I am,” Paul said. “So, were they explicitly the issue? No, but did they add to it? I highly would say yes.”
During Trump’s time as president, he often disapproved of those who identified as transgender in America; the former president imposed a ban on transgender individuals who wanted to join the U.S. military.
“If the world keeps telling me that I don’t have a reason for me to be here and the world is going to keep shaming me for being here. Then why live?” Paul added.
The rhetoric hasn’t slowed and has been a messaging tool Trump uses to galvanize his base by saying that Democrats like Vice President Kamala Harris “want to do transgender operations on illegal aliens that are in prison.” Trump made that claim at the presidential debate against Democratic presidential nominee Kamala Harris.
Not only do Trump’s actions hurt Paul, but they also affect 17-year-old Jacie Michelleé, a transgender person at Friendly Senior High School.
“When former President Donald J. Trump speaks on transgender [individuals] in a negative light, it saddens my heart and makes me wonder what he thinks his personal gain is from making these comments will be,” Michelleé said.
“When these comments are made toward trans immigrants or the transgender community, it baffles me because it shows me that the times are changing and not for the better,” Michelleé added.
The Congressional Black Caucus Foundation responded to Trump’s rhetoric that opposes the transgender community and how it affects democracy through programming at its Annual Legislative Conference in Washington.
“Our agendas are not set by what other groups are saying we should or shouldn’t do. It is set by our communities and what we know the needs and the most pressing needs are for the Black community, and we know that our global LGBTQAI+ communities have needs; they are a part of our community,” said Nicole Austin-Hillery, president and CEO of the Congressional Black Caucus Foundation.
One pressing need is suicide prevention, which the National Institute of Health deems necessary, as 82% of transgender individuals have reported having suicidal thoughts, while 40% have attempted suicide. This research applies to individuals like Paul, who reported contemplating suicide.
But instead of choosing to self-harm, Paul met Latrice Royale, a fourth-season contestant on “RuPaul’s Drag Race,” who was awarded the title of Miss Congeniality while on the show. Paul said that meeting brought meaning when there was barely any left.
“It was like I met them at a time where I really, truly, not only needed to see them, but I needed to be able to actively know ‘girl’ you can live and you can have a really a good life, right? And Latrice was that for me,” Paul said.
Though Trump is representative of a lot of movements that are clashing with society, the Democratic Party is actively pushing back against anti-transgender movements and says there is “still much work to be done.”
Not only did Royale model success for Paul, but they also share the same appearance. Paul proudly identifies as “fat” and uses this descriptor as a political vehicle to empower others in the book “Black Fat Femme, Revealing the Power of Visibly Queer Voices in the Media and Learning to Love Yourself.”
“My book, my work as a Black, fat femme, is inherently political. I say this at the very front of my book,” Paul said. “All three of those monikers are all three things in this world that the world hates and is working overtime to get rid of.”
“They’re trying to kill me as a Black person; they’re trying to get rid of me as a fat person. They are trying to get rid of me as a queer person,” Paul added.
Besides Paul’s political statements, the book’s mission is to give those without resources a blueprint to make it across the finish line.
“I want them to look at all the stories that I share in this and be able to say, ‘wow,’ not only do I see myself, but now I have a roadmap and how I can navigate all of these things that life throws at me that I never had, and I think that’s why I was so passionate about selling and writing the book,” Paul said.
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Jussie Smollett asserts innocence while promoting new film
‘I know what happened and soon you all will too’
Jussie Smollett, the actor and musician who was convicted of lying to the police about being the victim of a homophobic and racist hate crime that he staged in 2019, attended a screening of his latest film “The Lost Holliday” in a packed auditorium of the Martin Luther King Jr. Memorial Library on Aug. 28.
In an interview with the Washington Blade that took place before the screening, he continued to assert his innocence and responded to concerns within the LGBTQ community that his case has discouraged real victims from reporting hate crimes.
The former “Empire” star wrote, produced, and directed “The Lost Holliday,” his second feature film to direct following 2021’s “B-Boy Blues.” Produced through Smollett’s company, SuperMassive Movies, he stars in the film alongside Vivica A. Fox, who also served as a producer and attended the library screening with other cast members.
In the film, Smollett plays Jason Holliday, a man grappling with the sudden death of his husband Damien (Jabari Redd). Things are complicated when Damien’s estranged mother, Cassandra Marshall (Fox), arrives in Los Angeles from Detroit for the funeral, unaware of Damien’s marriage to Jason or of their adopted daughter. Initially, Jason and Cassandra clash — Cassandra’s subtle homophobia and Jason’s lingering resentment over her treatment of Damien fuel their tension –– but they begin to bond as they navigate their grief together.
Smollett, Fox, Redd, and Brittany S. Hall, who plays Jason’s sister Cheyenne, discussed the film in an interview with the Washington Blade. Highlighting the wide representation of queer identities in the film and among the cast, they stressed that the story is fundamentally about family and love.
“What we really want people to get from this movie is love,” Smollett said. “It’s beneficial for people to see other people that are not like themselves, living the life that they can identify with. Because somehow, what it does is that it opens up the world a little bit.”
Smollett drew from personal experiences with familial estrangement and grief during the making of the film, which delves into themes of parenthood, reconciliation, and the complexities of family relationships.
“I grew up with a father who was not necessarily the most accepting of gay people, and I grew up with a mother who was rather the opposite. I had a safe space in my home to go to, but I also had a not-so-safe space in my home, which was my father,” he said.
“The moment that he actually heard the words that his son was gay, as disconnected and estranged as we were, he instantly changed. He called me, after not speaking to him for years, and apologized for how difficult it must have been all of those years of me growing up. And then a couple years later, he passed away.”
Smollett began working on “The Lost Holliday” eight years ago, with Fox in mind for the role of Cassandra from the outset. He said that he had started collaborating on the project with one of the biggest producers in Hollywood when “‘2019’ happened.”
In January 2019, Smollett told Chicago police that he had been physically attacked in a homophobic and racist hate crime. He initially received an outpouring of support, in particular from the LGBTQ and Black communities. However, police soon charged him with filing a false police report, alleging that he had staged the attack.
After prosecutors controversially dismissed the initial charges in exchange for community service and the forfeiture of his $10,000 bond, Smollett was recharged with the same offenses in 2020. Meanwhile, his character in “Empire” was written out of the show.
In 2021, a Cook County jury found him guilty on five of the six charges of disorderly conduct for lying to police, and he was sentenced to 150 days in jail and 30 months of probation, along with a $120,000 restitution payment to the city of Chicago for the overtime costs incurred by police investigating his initial hate crime claim.
LGBTQ people are nine times more likely than non-LGBTQ people to be victims of violent hate crimes, according to a study by the Williams Institute at UCLA School of Law. Upon Smollett’s conviction, some in the LGBTQ community felt that the case would discredit victims of hate crimes and make it more difficult to report future such crimes.
Smollett seemed to acknowledge these concerns, but denied that he staged the attack.
“I know what happened and soon you all will too,” he told the Blade. “If someone reported a crime and it wasn’t the truth, that would actually make it more difficult [to report future crimes], but I didn’t. Any belief that they have about the person that I’ve been played out to be, sure, but that person is not me, never has been,” he said. “So I stand with my community. I love my community and I protect and defend my community until I’m bloody in my fist.”
“And for all the people who, in fact, have been assaulted or attacked and then have been lied upon and made it to seem like they made it up, I’m sorry that you have to constantly prove your trauma, and I wish that it wasn’t that way, and I completely identify with you,” he added.
An Illinois Appellate Court upheld his guilty verdict last year, but Smollett has since appealed to the Illinois Supreme Court, which in March agreed to hear the case. He has served six days in jail so far, as his sentence has been put on hold pending the results of his appeals.
The screening at the MLK Jr. Library concluded with a conversation between Smollett, Fox, and David J. Johns, CEO and executive director of the National Black Justice Coalition. Smollett discussed his current mindset and his plans for the future, revealing he is working on a third movie and will be releasing new music soon.
“I’m in a space where life is being kind,” he said.
“The Lost Holliday” recently secured a distribution deal for a limited release with AMC Theatres and will be out in theaters on Sept. 27.
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DIK Bar cements its status as LGBTQ institution, prepares to expand
Dupont Cantina coming soon to the former Malbec space
Two immigrant brothers who could not return home, Michael and Tony Askarinam, turned instead to making a community space of their own. Nearly 40 years after debuting their casual, gay-friendly restaurant, the (straight) owners of Dupont Italian Kitchen are expanding, reinforcing their status as a center of gay life on 17th Street. By early fall, they plan to debut a casual Mexican restaurant, complete with a spacious patio, tons of tacos, and big margarita energy that will please outdoor diners and karaoke singers upstairs alike.
DIK Bar, as it is affectionately known, still serves fan-favorite lasagna and eggplant parmesan, though no longer for a cool $4.25 from its opening menu. Michael, who moved to the U.S. from Iran to study in 1974, graduated in 1980 – less than a year after the Iranian revolution. Part of a Jewish family, he felt unsafe going back to his homeland with the new regime, and has never returned. Instead, he and his brother, who also fled, opened a restaurant that still sits on the same corner as the day it opened. Though he is not Italian, Michael had plenty of relevant experience: He had worked in Italian restaurants during summers while studying, and another brother owned the now-closed restaurant Spaghetti Garden (where Pitchers stands today). The menu, he admits, pulled heavily from his family influence.
Opening on 17th Street in the mid-‘80s, the brothers knew the community vibe. Annie’s, just a block away, was already well known as an LGBTQ-friendly institution. At the time, he says, the street was a bit grittier — not the well-manicured lane it is today. Still, they decided to open a restaurant and Italian Kitchen was born. His brother at Spaghetti Garden suggested adding “Dupont” in front to help ground the location, and DIK came into being. “At the beginning I admit I was a little uncomfortable with the name, having young kids. But it grew on me,” he says. Leaning in, he’s embraced the name.
A few years later, the restaurant expanded vertically: taking over the apartments upstairs to turn it into a bar; a new chef came in who introduced DIK Bar’s popular brunch. But he and his brother never really relinquished the cozy space that he had envisioned. Each pushing 80 years old, they come in nearly daily: cooking, bartending, even washing dishes.
DIK has evolved, but only slightly. Eggplant and chicken parm, lasagna, pizza, pasta, and a $1 garden salad: the opening menu from the ‘80s reads like a genuine old-school Italian joint. Today, you will still find classic gems, though now they are nestled alongside Brussels sprouts and arugula salads.
As longtime patrons know, the restaurant is more than the sum of its pasta parts. “It’s an atmosphere where everybody is welcome. I got that from my mother,” he added, noting that she had experienced discrimination as part of the Jewish minority in Iran. Given this background, it was logical for them to build a space where “you have a place to be who you are and feel comfortable.”
In 2020, as the restaurant’s lease was expiring, he had the opportunity to buy the building, which included adjacent Argentine restaurant Malbec. “The landlord let us know that they felt we deserve to own the building after being here for so long,” says Michael.
It was a blessing; to him, it meant the sustainability of Dupont Italian Kitchen. Earlier this year, when Malbec’s lease expired, they decided against finding another tenant and instead they would make it their own. The two eateries already shared one storage basement, where the Malbec kitchen was located. Saving costs by sharing procurement, staff, and utilities (as well as liquor), they took the leap. “Plus, we can be our own great tenant,” he said with a smile.
The refurbishment thus far has included a new HVAC system and a new bar. The new restaurant allows them access to a more spacious kitchen that can cook up sizzling Mexican favorites with speed and in volume. Customers at upstairs DIK Bar have always requested more bar-style finger food, he says, and tacos are better suited to a drinking atmosphere than fettuccine alfredo or creamy Cajun sausage pasta. Mexican food is also well suited to the patio. He also has a family tie to Mexico: relatives own Johnny Pistolas in Adams Morgan. The rest of the menu is being developed, including shareable small plates and “Mexican pizza.” Drinks will feature tequila, mezcal, and margaritas; and there is a happy hour in the works. “I’m hoping this expansion can help cement our future,” he says.
The opening timeline is early fall.
Looking back on almost 40 years and looking forward with the expansion, he mused that the restaurant still maintains its authenticity and its central role in LGBTQ life in D.C. “I’m really proud of the fact that it caters to this community. We are an institution, we want to continue to be part of this place.”
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