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PBS documentary spotlights trans political candidate in Texas

‘A Run for More’ screened at more than 30 film festivals

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‘A Run for More’ tells the story of Frankie Gonzales-Wolfe’s run for office in Texas as well as her wedding. (Screen capture via Vimeo)

Fifteen minutes into “A Run for More,” a clip shows the plunging back of Frankie Gonzales-Wolfe’s cream wedding dress embroidered with pearly white appliqués. Her smooth hands are gently clasped by her husband’s. He, Jeff Wolfe, is poised opposite her in a deep navy United States Air Force uniform. 

“Jeff, I place this ring on your finger, with my everlasting love for you, as my best friend, and as my husband,” Gonzales-Wolfe breathily repeated after the wedding officiant while holding back gleeful tears. 

“A Run for More,” which has partnered with multiple organizations including the Human Rights Campaign, concluded on Monday, May 15 the 11-episode eighth season of “Reel South,” a Public Broadcasting Service documentary series. “Reel South” presented feature-length and short documentaries and used diverse voices to tell stories about the complicated heritage of those who live in the South. It was produced in conjunction with a variety of Southern PBS affiliates. 

“A Run for More” was filmed across three years; however, its storyline began in 2016 when Washington, D.C.-based filmmaker Ray Whitehouse met Gonzales-Wolfe in San Antonio, Texas, her hometown. There, Gonzales-Wolfe commanded a legion of local volunteers for former presidential candidate Hillary Clinton’s 2016 campaign for president.  

Whitehouse — who was a part of the Washington Post’s Pulitzer-prize winning team for the paper’s coverage of the Jan. 6, 2021 insurrection — had been living in San Antonio after he’d “moved [there] for love,” and he spent his days documenting the realities of the gritty work required to volunteer for presidential campaigns. 

“I think of politics … as more about how do we organize ourselves, allocate power and move forward as a society,” he said.

Consequently, he developed a friendship with Gonzales-Wolfe that saw him document moments in her personal life, including her wedding, which took place the Saturday after Clinton’s defeat and against the backdrop of dismayed Democratic supporters. 

Almost three years later, Gonzales-Wolfe became the first transgender woman to run for city council in District 8 in San Antonio. When she called Whitehouse, he was excited.

“[Frankie] is just a joy to be around and she kinda has that intangible energy, and you just want to spend time with a person like that,” said Whitehouse. “What was inspiring to me was that she was trying to do something that had never been done before. And despite the fact that there were a lot of challenges, she was willing to face those challenges head on.”

Though “A Run for More” doesn’t end with a desired political victory for Gonzales-Wolfe, it’s a foray into the complexities of local politics, especially unseating an incumbent. Gonzales-Wolfe, who has worked in political campaigns since the 1990s, said the documentary is about “the Dos and Don’ts of campaigning” for trans candidates.

“I think it’s going to allow someone the opportunity to see my truth and be like, ‘One of the major mistakes that Frankie made was she didn’t own who she is as a person. And she had to learn the hard way’,” said Gonzales-Wolfe. “It wasn’t my ideas or what I was trying to implement for the community to enhance it…It really had to do with one aspect, which was who I am.”

Fully accepting her trans identity was an uphill battle especially spotlighted during a Transgender Lobby Day in Austin. At the event, Gonzales-Wolfe met trans activists from around the state, of whom she said she felt like a guest to their “sisterhood.”

“I’m embarrassed right now,” she reflected on the day, in between tears, in the documentary. She sat barefaced opposite Wolfe, her husband, in their kitchen with only her glasses on. “I felt for me, a trans woman in a group of trans women, I was a visitor.”

“Don’t be ashamed of your story; that’s your life,” Wolfe replied. “You can’t be judged for your life.”

Lobby Day not only taught Gonzales-Wolfe about the heartbreaking reality of homelessness and neglect other trans women faced, an unfamiliar experience for her, but also about her privilege as a passing, married trans woman with a support system. It helped show her how she was running her campaign as though she were cisgender. 

She recalled vehemently countering some of the activists’ points, while drawing on her knowledge and experience in politics. However, her friend and Houston activist Monica Roberts encouraged her to listen. 

“I was called out at the table we were sitting at pretty roughly,” said Gonzales-Wolfe. 

This and other experiences became the foundation for her self-actualization and increased her confidence in her identity. Now as chief of staff to the commissioner for Precinct 1 in San Antonio, she uses her role to advocate for issues such as helping small business and improving infrastructure, and also championing trans causes. 

For Whitehouse, this is part of the point of the documentary — it contributes to the drought of representation of trans legislators in the country. Only 50 legislators in the U.S. identify as either a trans man or trans woman, according to data from Out for America – LGBTQ+ Victory Institute.

“Trans people are having laws made about them but they aren’t [a part of] the legislative process,” he said. 

He added that the documentary is also about love and community.

“[It shows] what it means to try and understand who you are,” said Whitehouse.

Above all, “A Run for More” is a love story about Gonzales-Wolfe and her husband and their finding each other. Although wedding pictures could show this, the documentary provides the context lost in photos.

“I’m so grateful for everyone that fought for my right to marry the love of my life,” Wolfe, the husband, said to cheers from guests at their purple-lit wedding reception. “I promise all of you, and her, that we’re not going to stop fighting for that right.” 

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Sports

English soccer bans transgender women from women’s teams

British Supreme Court last month ruled legal definition of woman limited to ‘biological women’

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(Photo by Kirill_M/Bigstock)

The organization that governs English soccer on Thursday announced it will no longer allow transgender women to play on women’s teams.

The British Supreme Court on April 16 ruled the legal definition of a woman is limited to “biological women” and does not include trans women. The Football Association’s announcement, which cites the ruling, notes its new policy will take effect on June 1.

“As the governing body of the national sport, our role is to make football accessible to as many people as possible, operating within the law and international football policy defined by UEFA (Union of European Football Associations) and FIFA,” said the Football Association in a statement that announced the policy change. “Our current policy, which allows transgender women to participate in the women’s game, was based on this principle and supported by expert legal advice.”

“This is a complex subject, and our position has always been that if there was a material change in law, science, or the operation of the policy in grassroots football then we would review it and change it if necessary,” added the Football Association.

The Football Association also acknowledged the new policy “will be difficult for people who simply want to play the game they love in the gender by which they identify.”

“We are contacting the registered transgender women currently playing to explain the changes and how they can continue to stay involved in the game,” it said.

The Football Association told the BBC there were “fewer than 30 transgender women registered among millions of amateur players” and there are “no registered transgender women in the professional game” in England, Scotland, Wales, and Northern Ireland.

The Scottish Football Association, which governs soccer in Scotland, is expected to also ban trans women from women’s teams.

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Theater

Theatre Prometheus spreads queer joy with ‘Galatea’

Two girls dressed as boys who find love despite the odds

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Cate Ginsberg as Phillida and Amber Patrice Coleman as Galatea (Photo by Charlotte Hayes)

‘Galatea’
Through May 10
Theatre Prometheus
Montgomery College Cultural Arts Center
7995 Georgia Ave, Silver Spring, Md.
$27
Theatreprometheus.org

In a timely move, Theatre Prometheus thought it would be a beneficial thing to spread a little queer joy. And since the company’s mission includes engaging audiences and artists in queer and feminist art, there was nothing to stop them. 

Co-artistic directors Tracey Erbacher and Lauren Patton Villegas, both queer, agree they’ve found that joy in John Lyly’s “Galatea,” an Elizabethan-era comedy about Galatea and Phillida, two girls dressed as boys who find love despite some rather slim odds.  

Now playing at Montgomery College Cultural Arts Center on the Takoma Park/Silver Spring campus, the upbeat offering is a mix of contemporary and period, and strives to make audiences happy. Galatea’s cast includes Amber Coleman and Cate Ginsberg as the besotted pair. 

Erbacher, also the production’s director, adds “queer joy is something that I prioritized in casting actors and interviewing production people. I asked them what it means to them, and resoundingly the reply — from both them and the play — is that queer joy is the freedom to be yourself without having to think about it.

“Galatea” was first brought to Prometheus’s attention by Caitlin Partridge, the company’s literary director. Erbacher recalls, “she strongly suggested I read this very queer play. I read it and fell absolutely in love. And because it’s a comedy — I really like directing comedy — I knew that I could lean into that while not neglecting its universal themes of young love.” 

Villegas, who’s not ordinarily drawn to the classics, was also instantly smitten with Galatea.

“Usually with classics, the language doesn’t jump out at me the way modern works do,” she says. “But not so with ‘Galatea.’ The first time I heard it read aloud, I found it easy to follow and entirely accessible in the best way.”

Whether Lyly deliberately wrote a queer play isn’t known. What’s definitely known is the play was written with an all-boy performing troupe in mind; that’s partly why there are so many young female roles, the parts 10-year-old boys were playing at the time. 

There’s not a lot known about Lyly’s personal life, mostly because he wasn’t wildly famous. What’s known about the times is that there wasn’t a concept of “gay,” but there were sodomy laws regarding homosexual activity in England geared toward men having sex with men; it was all very phallocentric, Erbacher says.

She categorically adds, “Women’s sexuality wasn’t considered in the equation. In fact, it was often asked whether women were even capable of having sex with other women. It just was not part of the conversation. If there wasn’t a dick involved it didn’t count.

“Perhaps that’s how the playwright got around it. If there were two male characters in the play he could not have done it.”

Prometheus has done adaptations of ancient myths and some classics, but in this case it’s very faithful to the original text. Other than some cuts winnowing the work down to 90 minutes, “Galatea” is pretty much exactly as Lyly wrote it. 

And that includes, “girls dressed as boys who fall in love thinking girls are boys,” says Erbacher. “And then they start to clock things: ‘I think he is as I am.’ And then they don’t care if the object of their affection is a boy or a girl, the quintessential bisexual iconic line.” 

And without spoiling a thing, the director teases, “the ending is even queerer than the rest of the play.”

Erbacher and Villegas have worked together since Prometheus’s inception 11 years ago. More recently, they became co-artistic directors, splitting the work in myriad ways. It’s a good fit: They share values but not identical artistic sensibilities allow them to exchange objective feedback.

In past seasons, the collaborative pair have produced an all-women production of “Macbeth” and a queered take on [gay] “Cymbeline,” recreating it as a lesbian love story. And when roles aren’t specifically defined male or female, they take the best actor for the part.  

With Galatea, Prometheus lightens the current mood. Erbacher says, “the hard stuff is important but exhausting. We deserve a queer rom-com, a romantic sweeping story that’s not focused on how hard it is to be queer, but rather the joy of it.”

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Movies

Jacob Elordi rides high in ‘On Swift Horses’

Sony Pictures’ promotions avoid referencing queer sexuality of main characters

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The stars of ‘On Swift Horse.'

You might not know it from the publicity campaign, but the latest big-screen project for breakout “Euphoria” actor and sex symbol Jacob Elordi is 100% a gay love story.

Alright, perhaps that’s not entirely accurate. “On Swift Horses” – adapted from the novel by Shannon Pufahl and directed by Daniel Minahan from a screenplay by Bryce Kass – actually splits its focus between two characters, the other of which is played by “Normal People” star Daisy Edgar-Jones; but since that story arc is centered around her own journey toward lesbian self-acceptance, it’s unequivocally a “Queer Movie” anyway.

Set in 1950s America, at the end of the Korean War, it’s an unmistakably allegorical saga that stems from the marriage between Muriel (Edgar-Jones) and Lee (Will Poulter), a newly discharged serviceman with dreams of building a new life in California. His plans for the future include his brother Julius (Elordi), a fellow war vet whose restlessly adventurous spirit sparks a kindred connection and friendship with his sister-in-law despite a nebulously strained dynamic with Lee. Though the newlyweds follow through with the plan, Julius opts out in favor of the thrill of a hustler’s life in Las Vegas, where his skills as a card shark gain him employment in a casino. Nevertheless, he and Muriel maintain their friendship through correspondence, as he meets and falls in love with co-worker Henry (Diego Calva) and struggles to embrace the sexual identity he has long kept secret. Meanwhile, Muriel embarks on a secret life of her own, amassing a secret fortune by gambling on horse races and exploring a parallel path of self-acceptance with her boldly butch new neighbor, Sandra (Sasha Calle), as Lee clings obliviously to his dreams of building a suburban family life in the golden era of all-American post-war prosperity.

Leisurely, pensive, and deeply infused with a sense of impossible yearning, it’s the kind of movie that might easily, on the surface, be viewed as a nostalgia-tinged romantic triangle – albeit one with a distinctively queer twist. While it certainly functions on that level, one can’t help but be aware of a larger scope, a metaphoric conceit in which its three central characters serve as representatives of three conflicting experiences of the mid-century “American Dream” that still looms large in our national identity. With steadfast, good-hearted Lee as an anchor, sold on a vision of creating a better life for himself and his family than the one he grew up with, and the divergent threads of unfulfilled longing that thwart his fantasy with their irresistible pull on the wife and brother with whom he hoped to share it, it becomes a clear commentary on the bitter reality behind a past that doesn’t quite gel with the rose-colored memories still fetishized in the imagination of so many Americans.

Fortunately, it counterbalances that candidly expressed disharmony with an empathetic perspective in which none of its characters is framed as an antagonist; rather, each of them are presented in a way with which we can readily identify, each following a still-unsatisfied longing that draws them all inexorably apart despite the bonds – tenuous but emotionally genuine – they have formed with each other. To put it in a more politically-centered way, the staunch-but-naive conformity of Lee, in all his patriarchal tunnel vision, does not make him a villainous oppressor any more than the repressed queerness of Muriel and Julius make them idealized champions of freedom; all of them are simply following an inner call, and each can be forgiven – if not entirely excused – for the missteps they take in response to it

That’s not to say that Minahan’s movie doesn’t play into a tried-and-true formula; there’s a kind of “stock character” familiarity around those in the orbit of the three main characters, leading to an inevitably trope-ish feel to their involvement – despite the finely layered performances of Calva and Calle, which elevate their roles as lovers to the film’s two queer explorers and allow them both to contribute their own emotional textures – and occasionally pulls the movie into the territory of melodrama.

Yet that larger-than-life treatment, far from cheapening “On Swift Horses,” is a big part of its stylish appeal. Unapologetically lush in its gloriously photographed recreation of saturated 1950s cinema (courtesy of Director of Photography Luc Montpellier), it takes us willingly into its dream landscape of mid-century America – be it through the golden suburbs of still-uncrowded Southern California or the neon-lit flash of high-rolling Las Vegas, or even the macabre (but historically accurate) depiction of nuclear-age thrill-seekers convening for a party in the Nevada desert to watch an atom bomb detonate just a few short miles away. It’s a world remembered by most of us now only through the memories and artifacts of a former generation, rendered with an artful blend of romance and irony, and inhabited by people in whom we can see ourselves reflected while marveling at their beauty and charisma.

As lovely as the movie is to look at, and as effective as it is in evoking the mix of idealism and disillusionment that defines the America of our grandparents for many of us at the start of the second quarter of the 21st century, it’s that last factor that gives Minahan’s film the true “Hollywood” touch. His camera lovingly embraces the beauty of his stars. Edgar-Jones burns with an intelligence and self-determination that underscores the feminist struggle of the era, and the director makes sure to capture the journey she charts with full commitment; Poulter, who could have come off as something of a dumb brute, is allowed to emphasize the character’s nobility over his emotional cluelessness; Calle is a fiery presence, and Minahan lets her burn in a way that feels radical even today; Calva is both alluring and compelling, providing an unexpected depth of emotion that the film embraces as a chord of hope.

But it is Elordi who emerges to truly light up the screen. Handsome, charismatic, and palpably self-confident, he’s an actor who frankly needs to do little more than walk into the scene to grab our attention – but here he is given, perhaps for the first time, the chance to reveal an even greater depth of sensitivity and truth, making his Julius into the film’s beating heart and undisputed star. It’s an authenticity he brings into his much-touted love scenes with Calva, lighting up a chemistry that is ultimately as joyously queer-affirming as they are steamy.

Which is why Sony Pictures’ promotions for the film – which avoid directly referencing the sexuality of its two main characters, instead hinting at “secret desires” and implying a romantic connection between Elordi and Edgar-Jones – feels not just like a miscalculation, but a slap in the face. Though it’s an eloquent, quietly insightful look back at American cultural history, it incorporates those observations into a wistful, bittersweet, but somehow impossibly hopeful story that emphasizes the validity of queer love.

That’s something to be celebrated, not buried – which makes “On Swift Horses” a sure bet for your must-see movie list.

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