This will sound like a joke but I’m serious. My first introduction to postmodern queer theory was stumbling on a televised talent show as a pre-teen and watching this woman smash soda cans with her breasts. When the judges asked her a predictable question, if I recall correctly, she answered: “they’re fake but they’re real.” I knew what she meant. She’d had implants, sure, but she wasn’t just wearing a prop she could put on or take off. She wasn’t trying for verisimilitude—her breasts were real simply because they were hers. Ever since I’ve been fascinated by the possibility of something being real and fake at the same time, and the truth that these aren’t static or mutually exclusive categories. I think of all the people who have doubted the authenticity of my faggy mannerisms, accusing me of putting on an act instead of being myself. I feel so much pressure to say that this is just who I naturally am, but this is only half the truth. I do like being feminine, I do like being over the top, I do like being tacky in the most delightful ways, and sometimes I emphasize these parts of me just because I can. We can choose who we want to be and still be real. Anyway as I typed this I looked up the video and found that during that woman’s performance Dynamite by Taio Cruz was playing so good for her.
When Evelyn first jumps to the sausage-fingers universe, it isn’t random and it isn’t because she has professed her love to Deirde a few scenes back.
It is because
Jobu Tupaki
has just scolded her for not accepting that her daughter is gay. And Evelyn has at that point learned only two things: do a very random thing and think of a universe in which you have the skill you need.
So Evelyn pees herself and thinks of a universe where she herself is gay. She doesn’t think of a universe in which she is better able to fight
Jobu Tupaki, she thinks of a universe in which she is better able to understand and accept joy.
