INTERVIEW BY CLARA B. JONES

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Chris Talbot-Heindl is a leader in the movement to ensure LGBTIQA2+ rights and to promote those interests in the marginalized, as well as, the mainstream, art and literary communities. Editor and publisher of the zine, The Bitchin’ Kitsch [The B’K], and, recently settled in Colorado, their Twitter profile states, “…just another trans, nonbinary, pansexual, mixed-race, separated-Indigenous (probably Huron-Wendat), artist, & comics creator”— and, I would add, educator, advocate, activist, graphic novelist, and chapbook contest sponsor. Talbot-Heindl acknowledges that they produce  polarizing, political commentary and art so, in 2010, with their husband, Dana, Talbot-Heindl “brainstormed” about possible projects that would highlight their creative energies, and serve as an outlet for their beliefs and values. “The zine started out as a joke idea – a late night brainstorm that ended with, ‘…and we could totally call it, The Bitchin’ Kitsch—like, it’s totally rad junk!’ The next morning, when the idea didn’t sound half bad, we decided to ‘go’ with it. We wanted to focus on people who normally didn’t get to have their work out there – pieces with a little grit, things that were slightly subversive, or had a level of kitschiness or silliness that ‘traditional’ publications would reject.” They planned to emphasize creativity, inclusivity, diversity, & respectful discourse. The B’K, then, is an extension of Talbot-Heindl’s long-standing concern for justice, their personality, and their self-presentation, and this interview, conducted via email and barely edited, reflects that interdependence. As a personal disclosure, I have published poems and reviews in The B’K several times and won the zine’s chapbook competitions in 2015 & 2017. My motivation for choosing them as an interview subject, however, was based on their commitment to LGBTIQA+ issues and the ways in which they balance and integrate identity, work, life, beliefs, attitudes, opinions, values, and community. Most important, perhaps, I find Talbot-Heindl to be a generous and pragmatic social commentator who makes a lot of sense, and I want to share their “voice” with others.

Clara B. Jones: Imagine that you are having a dinner party and that you’ve invited three people. Who would these three persons be, why did you choose them, what would you cook for dinner, and what would you talk about?

Chris Talbot-Heindl: The first person is going to sound hokey, but it has to be Dana, my spouse. We’re ridiculously co-dependent and introverted, so there’s no way I could get through a dinner party without his assistance. The other two would be incredibly hard to pick and would likely change day to day. But if I had to choose two living individuals based on today’s mood, I would choose Indya Moore and Lilah Sturges. Both of these individuals work hard in their respective fields to make the world a better, more loving place for trans people (Indya Moore is a trans nonbinary person starring in the television series, “Pose,” who speaks their truth on social media; Lilah Sturges is a writer who hosts Trans Pizza, where she makes sure that trans people are fed!); both focus on intersectionality, and both have beautiful, eloquent, affirming things to say on Twitter daily.

I would likely serve nori rolls and loaded miso since it’s the only dinner-party style food I can really do any justice to (I am not a very good cook, truth be told). I would hope we could talk about trans inclusion issues, brainstorm solutions, and talk about using art as a medium to raise awareness. But honestly, I’d be up for talking about pretty much anything with either of them! I have a feeling that any topic they wanted to talk about would be interesting and informative.

CBJ: What is your earliest memory, and is it still significant to you in any way?

C T-H: I have a problem with memory, honestly. Most of my childhood is a blank, and the memories I do have may be genuine or may be creative fictional amalgamations of stories I’ve heard about my childhood mixed with legitimate memories. Of those possible amalgamations, the earliest one I can think of isn’t super significant other than as an example of my sense of justice and my stubborn insistence of it. Picture this: my family and I are at a martial arts tournament – I think it was the Diamond Nationals in Minneapolis – and I’m “little Chris,” seven or eight years old, trying to sleep at the hotel after the first night. My sister, Michelle, is crying because she can’t sleep. The adults in the next room are partying pretty hard and are too loud. So, I march into the hall to the next room in my pajamas, knock on the door, and, when my instructor opens it, I put my hands on my hips, give him a stern look and tell him he was being rude and to keep it down. Apparently I also told him he was a bad man (for other reasons), but I’m not sure if this was the same night or a different one. I have tons of story-memories like this – me insisting there was a moral imperative to behave a certain way and demanding it be so as a child. Most of them involved hands on hips, stern looks, and demands. I was, apparently, a bossy child.

CBJ: I gather from one of your online interviews that you scan every submission to The B’K for “racist, sexist, or homophobic,” as well as, triggering content. However, your new submission form asks each artist, including, writers, to answer a long and broad range of questions—many of which would be considered illegal in other contexts [e.g., on employment or educational applications]. Can you describe this submission form in detail, discuss its rationale, and tell us what prompted your creating it and using it as a criterion to publish in The B’K? How do you use the information, and what are the most disqualifying answers?

C T-H: Our submission form gets a lot of pushback, but all its rules and questions have been informed from 10 years’ experience in what we don’t want to receive and/or publish. Every time we add something, it’s because we’ve gotten dozens of submissions that included it [e.g., the undesirable topic, practice, or appropriation], and we feel we need to explicitly tell people not to. We once got an angry email from someone who was offended that we included so many guidelines because she didn’t want to “read an essay” just to submit, and she stated all the things included were minimum requirements for a decent submission. She was floored when I told her everything prohibited was something we’ve received many times over.

Our form asks people to self-identify their intersections, including race, gender, sexuality, ability, and religion, but makes it clear in the submission guidelines and the submission form itself (because we’ve found most people don’t read the guidelines) that this is for our information (to see whose voices we might be missing) and won’t be used to evaluate the work unless someone’s identity makes their submission inappropriate or constitutes appropriation. We further explain that “appropriation” means writing about what it’s like to be part of a historically marginalized community you don’t belong to rather than just including people from marginalized communities. We go even further and have podcasts for people who find these rules and terms confusing. Really, we’re trying so hard to help – we may have gone overboard and made it all too cumbersome.

For some people, being asked to self-identify is really upsetting. We get a mix of angry emails each month calling us “fascists” or saying that white cisgender heterosexual abled men aren’t going to submit anymore. But for us, these questions are about equity and “who” should tell a story. We want people from marginalized communities to speak to that experience; we want all people to include people from marginalized communities in their work. Too often, we get someone who’s well-meaning but writes a micro-aggressing interpretation of what it’s like to be someone from a different background; and, too often, we see other publications publish these stories. We are interested in people being able to decolonize their own stories and tell their own stories.

And truth be told, even with these rules, the majority of our submitters and accepted submissions are white cisgender heterosexual abled men, so there’s nothing to fear in answering the questions. No identity is disqualifying, but your piece may be rejected if your identity makes your piece problematic.

CBJ: Besides publishing the zine, The B’K, you hold a yearly chapbook competition, as well as, produce a Podcast Series and an educational series, Chrissplains Comics—both of these latter initiatives are about gender & race. In the current, Winter Issue, 11.1, you present the  Chrissplains Nonbinary Advocacy to Cisgender People comic—“Rapid Onset Gender Dysphoria is a FART Myth” [FART= Feminism-Appropriating Reactionary Transphobes] that “attempts to show why the rhetoric, advanced by FARTs, of ‘rapid onset gender dysphoria’ is harmful and explains to parents and therapists why it isn’t a ‘thing’ to worry about.” What feedback have you been receiving about your podcasts and comic series? Can radical Art, including, literature, change society, or is it influential only at the individual and subjective levels?

CT-H: The feedback I’ve received from The B’K Submitters’ Guide Podcast and Chrissplains Nonbinary Advocacy to Cisgender People have been mixed (and very telling), according to identity. In general, the people advocated for in the podcasts have appreciated them, thanked me for making them and for centering equity and affirming representation, and have sometimes provided me with information I didn’t know (which I then update people with on the next podcast). Allies have thanked me for telling them something they may not have known. But I’ve also gotten angry people sliding into my emails to tell me that I’m being ridiculous and taking PC culture too far. I don’t really sweat that feedback because in my mind that means I’m doing something right. These tend to be the same people that I’ll get an email about informing me that they’ve published elsewhere a story about trans identity being a mental illness and supporting a trans artist or writer means you’re fueling their mental illness (yup, really happened!). If people aren’t willing to learn better and, then, do better, I’m not interested in their listenership or their continued presence in The B’K. We’re on a journey to do better together, and they’re not ready to join us.

For Chrissplains, it’s been nearly the same – nonbinary and trans people have thanked me or provided me more information from their perspective, allies have thanked me, and FARTs have harassed me. I also had someone, who claimed to be an ally, clamoring against one of my comics and telling me what was best for me, which was interesting. I tried to explain that nonbinary and trans people will let people know how to best advocate for them; we don’t need to be told by cisgender people what is best for us. But she wasn’t ready to hear it.

I believe that radical art is one of the only things that influences certain types of learners. I originally made all of it – the zines, the comics, and the graphic novel I’m working on—to help my family and friends understand me better. That’s it. I didn’t have some grand scheme for it. But in the process, I’ve had many nonbinary and trans people tell me that it helped them understand things they didn’t have words for, educate their family and friends, and made them feel seen. And that’s amazing! On top of that, the LGBT Center for Excellence at Denver Health is using a partial chapter from my graphic novel about nonbinary life to help people understand the importance of LGBTIQA2+ affirming care. You never know who will be touched by your art and who will be swayed by your art. But, it does provide an avenue for education and change to people who are visual learners.

CBJ: Off and on for many years, I have been absorbed by reading literary interviews in Paris Review—most of the subjects might be described as members of the literary “canon,” so to speak [Eliot, Didion, Hemingway, Capote, Ralph Ellison, William Carlos Williams, etc.]. Perhaps, I am reading too much in; however, I am drawn to the details of houses and apartments—books, paintings, magazines, rugs, “kitschy” things with historical import, etc.—many of these objects seeming to have a sense of permanence with an intimate story, a detailed provenance attached to each belonging. I have often been reminded of something Paul Fry [Yale] said in his online literary theory course,—that “preservation” is a purpose of great literature, which I interpreted as saying preservation of Western Civilization or, perhaps, bourgeois culture. Is this a project that you would oppose? Is your mission intended to disrupt or intervene in or mediate the neo-capitalist, Western project—or are you about something else? In other words, what are you trying to achieve as a change agent?

CT-H: When we started The B’K, our one goal was to provide an outlet for those creators who are generally overlooked. When we started 10 years ago, there weren’t a ton of online publications with completely open and free submissions, and the ones that were set up like that did seem homogenized to me. I don’t fault them; I think that for the most part, we are trained to believe that the Western style of writing or art and subjects that center white Western ideas are the “greats.” I remember when I was briefly an English major in college, I enrolled in a Masters of Literature class and quickly dropped it when I saw the syllabus and realized it was entirely comprised of works from Western white men. We are trained to think of this ideal as “normal,” and to think of marginalized works to be “specialty” things that we box away in specific courses like “Introduction to Ethnic Literature” – also a class I took despite its micro-aggressing title, and one I truly enjoyed. Sometimes, after we realize that we aren’t going to get validation, acknowledgment, or publication from white institutions that have built an aesthetic—either purposefully or by accident – that leads to our exclusion, we have to decide to build something for ourselves that is built around inclusion and equity.

In my mind, I thought I was writing coded language for those excluded, but I was also happy to provide an opportunity for the white cisgender heterosexual men who submitted. I was happy to publish the weird kitschy stuff, the subject matter that seemed taboo, as well as the marginalized people I was originally hoping to amplify. Now that we’re farther into the publication’s life, I find myself wanting to pointedly say, “This publication is meant to provide inclusion and equity to people who have been shut out from traditional publications, because traditional publications have deemed their voice and their stories to be unimportant, ‘specialty,’ or not to their Western aesthetics, because that’s where I would prefer my free labor to go toward.” But, maybe, that isn’t as needed as it once was, seeing all the new, marginalized-population focused publications out there!

CBJ: The Harvard poetry critic and Formalist, Helen Vendler, once said of Adrienne Rich’s poetry—after Rich came out as a lesbian—that Rich was writing “Sociology,” also stating that Rich’s early, lyrical poetry showed promise—implying that the radical feminist poet surrendered good poetry to politics. Given that the Formalist criterion is that content [e.g., politics] is subordinate to form [e.g., lyric, music, color, rhythmn], do you have any reaction to Vendler’s point of view about political and, perhaps, radical, Art, including, writing—that it is “Sociology,” not, Art?

CT-H: I had this same critique in my senior art thesis project, although not worded quite as nicely. One of my professors critiqued my thesis project as “political propaganda,” “low-brow,” and not to the level of fine or academic art. My art used traditional printmaking methods as well as animation to show the atrocities committed by each US President during their time, and it was interactive. Was it impeccably made? No. The printmaking was done well, the rest of it was…honestly, what I could afford to make at that point in my life. But, that wasn’t what he was critiquing. In his mind, the idea that it was political art was what made it not academic, fine, or high-brow art. I think that’s crap, honestly.

First, claiming that something that involves a different identity than your own becomes “sociology” is to fully center your own identity as normal and create an “other.” If you decide that poetry from the lens of a lesbian makes their writing “sociology” rather than poetry, then you’ve decided that poetry from the lens of a heterosexual person is normal, and poetry from a non-heterosexual lens is specialized or politicized. That’s a personal failing of the reader, in my opinion. Yes, our society in the US does cater and normalize white, cisgender, heterosexual, abled identities and stories; but art, and what is considered art, should be more nuanced than that.

I prefer the César Cruz quote: “Art should comfort the disturbed and disturb the comfortable.” Art has multiple purposes, including, providing a comfort and catharsis to those suffering under a white, cisgender, heterosexual, abled-centered society, and there’s value in disrupting the beneficiaries of that society a bit so they can see something beyond what is immediately visible through their lenses.

CBJ: At least in the modern and contemporary period, small and alternative presses have been venues for experimental or oppositional or political or other non-traditional or radical or alternative artists, including, writers, of course, to publish successfully or to bypass the mainstream literary community and its institutions. What are the major challenges associated with small-press publishing? Is it a viable alternative to publishing in the mainstream? Can work published in small or alternative presses stand the tests of time?

CT-H: I can’t really speak as a submitter, as I’ve only submitted a handful of things to a handful of publications; but, from an editor’s point of view, the major challenges with small-press publishing are finding the audience you want and finding money and time to make it happen. We had a hard time filling The B’K when we first started, and often resorted to begging our friends to send us their artwork and writing and padding the publication with our own work. There were issues we had to cancel because we didn’t have enough pages filled.

Money has always been an issue. People seem to think there’s big money in this sort of thing and get shocked that we don’t offer payment to our submitters. While we would love to, the publication loses money every year. We don’t charge for submissions, we don’t have angel investors or grants, The B’K  is free to read online, we offer the printed copies at what it costs to us to our submitters, and very few people buy copies beyond submitters because the zine is free to read online. Our goal is to put pieces and creators out there, not necessarily to have a thriving business.

I think it’s a viable alternative – I hope so; I hope people find value in it and enjoy both submitting their pieces in print and reading people’s work in our publication. As far as the work standing the test of time, I know it won’t have as long of a shelf-life or as big of a readership as publications on actual shelves at the library or in museums, but I hope ours has some longevity. All the issues are available in the archive section of our website, and in Stevens Point, Wisconsin (where we originally published), I know that an archivist from the city’s preservation society has been squirreling old issues from the local coffee shop that houses our community copies since the beginning. Back issues are, of course, available to read at the Denver Zine Library. While it isn’t the same, it has its own value and audience, I think.

CBJ: Have you received any negative reactions, or have you been ostracized by any members of the artistic, especially, literary, community because of your gender identification or your mission?

CT-H: Whew! I have absolutely had pushback. I think you will if you make art or amplify subjects that push boundaries. I was banned for life from a local small town Wisconsin Art Board because I proposed a show that included photographs of a (fully clothed) gay couple. They took the benevolent stance that it was for my own safety and well-being. An art curator for a museum once told me that I needed to start using my intelligence and gifts for “good rather than evil” after I gave her a rather scathing review of an art show she put on that was incredibly racist in nature. I’ve also gotten a lot of dismissal, from people saying that I shouldn’t make affirming artwork for LGBTIQA2+ people and amplify it when I am an LGBTIQA2+ person who will directly benefit, which is…certainly words in an order. I’ve not understood that stance personally – who better to talk about being a thing than a person who is?

I’ve been somewhat surprised and pleased that – especially when I was in a small town in central Wisconsin – all the pushback and burned bridges happened in relation to things I was doing rather than who I was (although when you get critiqued for queer art, it can feel like it is about who you are). But regardless, I’ve never let that stop me. I actually got that same show that the Board banned me from, at the Board’s standard show locale, by reaching out to the owner (who was a personal friend), instead. Whenever there is a white, cisgender, heterosexual-led institution saying “no,” there’s a person of color or LGBTIQA2+ person who got tired of hearing “no” who has made an avenue of opportunity for themselves and others. You just have to find it.

CBJ: Are there any emerging writers that you would recommend to readers? Are any of them bringing something new to the table?

CT-H: So, so many! I want to shout out many of The B’K writers, but I don’t want to play favorites; so, instead, I want to talk about three amazing authors. Tommy Orange, Mason Deaver, Mariama J. Lockington are three novelists I would highly recommend. They bring themselves to the table and write from a perspective all their own, and that’s what I value so much with their writing. Orange’s novel, “There There,” shows different Indigenous people as they prepare for a powwow for different reasons. He is an enrolled member of the Cheyenne and Arapaho Tribes of Oklahoma and created all kinds of characters with different attachments to their own Indigeneity, including Indigenous folks who are finding their way back to their roots through the powwow after being separated generations ago – which is my situation and which spoke to me. Deaver’s debut novel, “I Wish You All the Best,” introduces a nonbinary individual who is thrown out of their home when they come out. It’s heart-wrenching and provides a snapshot into the nuance of living that identity while still a minor – something I can’t even imagine. And Lockington’s novel, “For Black Girls Like Me,” tells the story of Makeda, a Black girl adopted by a white family, and what navigating that world is like for her.

In all three cases, the authors belong to the identity they are writing about and can provide real-to-life perspectives for. They aren’t imagining from a place of privilege; these are real stories with real nuance, despite being fiction.

CBJ: Expand on a topic such as whether trans activism constitutes a movement; or whether trans writers & editors & publishers should attempt to enter the mainstream literary community; or what “allies” can do to facilitate success in visual and literary practice & publishing, including, small press publishing, by trans artists; or maybe you could discuss the merits of political art as it pertains to trans artists & writers.

CT-H: I feel like too many cisgender people believe that there’s some sort of organized trans agenda that trans activists are fighting towards that would demand people give up their personal identities and assume some sort of gender fluidity. But all that trans activists are asking for is the right to live their lives in peace as the gender they identify—without experiencing job discrimination, housing discrimination, humiliation in public restrooms, and hate crimes. That’s it; that’s the grand trans agenda. There was this great Tweet thread going around about how the TERF version of a martyr is someone getting kicked out of a gay bar for wearing a hate group’s shirt and spouting transphobic slogans while trans people are busy sending each other the same $20 for fundraisers necessitated from lost jobs, housing discrimination fallout, and non-trans-inclusive health insurance. Trans people are just trying to live.

Trans writers, editors, and publishers are attempting to enter the mainstream literary community – to have increased visibility and reach beyond the “choir” – but we don’t really have a lot of control as to whether or not the mainstream community will have us, which is why we often have to make our own spaces. Eventually, we get chastised for having our own space at all – from the mainstream communityclaiming we are being exclusionary—and from our allies claiming that we’re separating ourselves and causing an “elite,” secret collection of knowledge.

It reminds me of that Alex Norris webcomic ( https://tmblr.co/ZJf5Lg2irxa_D). The first cell shows a grouping of gray blobs approaching three pink blobs saying “You do not fit in here.” The second cell shows pink blobs in a smaller enclosed space saying “Okay, we will make our own place.” In the third cell, gray blobs approach the smaller space saying, “Why are you excluding us,” and the pink blobs respond “Oh no.”

Often cisgender writers will be published telling trans stories, and they’ll be heralded as brave and insightful, heaped with praise. When transgender writers try to publish and tell our own stories, we’re told there isn’t an audience for our stories. You see this play out time and again in Hollywood for movies as well.

But, trans artists and activists continue to do the work, because we need to. It’s necessary to tell our stories and demystify our existence, for our survival, when the opposing viewpoint is that we shouldn’t exist and that our existence is dangerous. We make our own publications, zines, chapbooks; we self-publish and attend zine fests and spread that information as much as we can without the acceptance or help of the mainstream literary community.

The good news is that I’ve seen a bit of a shift with the smaller mainstream publishers. There seems to be more of an effort to pay attention to who is telling the story and more of an effort to bring in creators from historically marginalized communities in general. I think the biggest things that allies could do is ask for those stories and encourage that change; show there’s a market; prioritize and amplify stories written about trans people by trans people. If our allies show there’s a market demand and that those who tell the stories matter to them as readers, free-market capitalism says that those in decision-making positions in the literary community will have to supply.

CBJ: Thanks for sharing your vision and mission with us, Chris. You, your peers, and your allies are changing narratives about LGBTIQA2+ realities, having the potential to change society, including Formalist aesthetics and the literary establishment.

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Clara B. Jones is a Knowledge Worker practicing in Silver Spring, MD, USA. Among other writings, she is author of /feminine nature/ [Gauss PDF, 2017]. Clara, also, conducts research on experimental literature, Surrealism, radical publishing, as well as, art & technology.