hey there, lefty!

leftorium (c) matt groening

Being left-handed in a right-handed world has always been a challenge for me. Dinners and lunches seated next to right-handed people often involved elbow-bashing and awkwardness. I am forever dropping bits of food and salad from my fork as I try to engage in conversation and monitor my motor skills.

Lefties have to take a few extra seconds to asses how to pick something up and the spacial relationship around it. For example, dropping one's keys, with papers and a cup of coffee in hand in a busy break room. When I cook i usually work from the right-side burners so that my left hand is free to manipulate utensils and whatnot. I never thought about this until a friend mentioned it to me recently; it was just a natural thing. 

Only 10% of the human population is left-handed. Left-handed people are right-brained, which is where creativity and spacial relationships are processed (in theory, we could navigate outer space and the eternal void with relative ease). I rely on this ability since everything for me is the opposite. My intuitive right is left so auditory directions can be hard for me to process. I have to repeat what I hear. It's also difficult for me to navigate crowded spaces as I'm carrying a shopping basket at my left and bump into people unintentionally. I say 'excuse me,' alot, even preemptively. It takes me a minute to figure which line is appropriate because I naturally go left and I don't read. 

I was checking out a Muay Thai gym several years ago. It's a bad-ass sport I like because I've always dreamed of being an action star. The workouts were hard and I was a complete nerd.  I could never get the trainer's demo the first time because the shit made no sense. I always kick, punch, bat, shoot, and throw from my left. The trainer would say, ' Oh, you're a south paw!' (or compare me to some obscure boxer from 1935). I'd get a quick one on one tutorial in reverse. That was very kind.

In elementary and middle school I was all about kickball and softball. I was a power kicker and hitter. I was fierce and fast part of the Bad News Bears! I was super bad and unstoppable, that is, until I fell or stumbled, face down in one big splat of clumsy non-bad assness. Stick to Judy Blume and V.C. Andrews, kid. You're not gonna make the team.

In high school I went in the different of less physically challenging direction of art and AP english. Yet still I would struggle with finding a left-appropriate space in art class. I always felt like the oddball; trying to find the right balance with my brushes, charcoal, and graphite. I developed a callous on my second finger which looks like a little nub. i would ice it regularly because I was a prolific teenage genius. My hand would cramp from writing stream-of-consciousness journal entries (these usually started with, 'Biology sucks!' ' Valley Girl was awesome!' or 'John puked on me at the party, but I still love him!' followed by an in-depth analysis of my feelings).  When I got a typewriter this greatly solved my manual writing dilemma.

As an adult into my 30s, I joined several co-workers, all dudes, in a game of basketball. They were more experienced and technically savvy than I was, but I still managed to get in a shot or two. I got the left-handed jabs and jokes and someone mentioned an obscure left-handed basketball player from the 1970s. Struggling to keep up, I over-compensated and my brain short-circuited with which way to go. I went down hard. Splat! My friends rallied around me, hands outstretched to help me up ' Damn Lisa, are you okay?'

I was pissed. 'Get off me! Treat me like anyone else. I'm not some delicate flower! Fuck! ' 

' Dang, dude. We're just tryna be gentlemen.' (It's hard to stay irrationally mad at the nice guy because your clumsy ass is embarrassed).

hand by Leonardo da Vinci

Lefties can write either with the hand vertical or, in some cases, with the hand bent and arched to the right. I'm in the latter category and this took lots of practice over time.  We can sometimes have not-so-good penmanship because of the angle we hold a writing instrument (lefties make lots of loops and letters tend to tilt).  I strive for a writing style somewhere between an architect and graffiti. Again, loads of practice. I'm still awed by clean, neat, san-serif penmanship that most righties seem to do effortlessly. 

Being an outsider and a lefty simply adds to my beguiling allure. I learned that there are an array of famous lefties: Barak Obama, Leonardo da Vinci, Paul Klee, Pablo Picasso, Telly Savalas, Mark Twain, James Baldwin, Judy Garland, Whoopi Goldberg, Robert De Niro, David Bowie, and Oprah Winfrey among them. There is also a cartoon lefty: Bart Simpson. I would stoked if Foghorn Leghorn was a lefty. He's my spirit homie. 

The word sinister comes from the latin word sinistra meaning 'left'. The french word for left is gauche, which has been borrowed in english to mean clumsy or awkward. Historically, left-handed people were a sign of the devil. School children were forced to write with their right hand or face the lash. Lefty persecution went on well into the 20th century. I remember my first grade teacher trying to correct my left-handedness. I revolted. There were tears and busted crayons were involved.

There is other interesting data about the lefty brain: we're at a higher risk of psychosis (Jack the Ripper for example, was a lefty). We hear speech differently and use both sides of the brain to process language. We tend to be artistic and make for good boozer poets (nice!).  We also have a holiday, International Left-Handers Day, which is observed annually on August 13th.  When this falls on a Friday the 13th, this is further proof we are indeed in league with the dark lord. This is a day of lefty recognition and awareness. The struggle is real! We have issues like the chronic dropping of cutlery, the insanity of eating a salad, and the fact that scissors are completely wrong. 

It's a bit like being handicapped in a right-handed world. 

mslisa is left-handed as fuck. 

really, queen?

i've always adored rupaul since i used to see him in the clubs in new york. this endlessly tall and beautiful drag queen. these were the days when paper magazine was still young and i loved all manner of things house and punk. times square was also a hot mess of human wreckage and i enjoyed it.  the gay clubs were a blast because the creativity was astounding and there were no straight squares to bug you. it was a fun and stark contrast to punk shows and chaos. i learned how to be a lady from the children. i had two gay darlings, one trans who i hung out with back then. they were puerto rican and taught me all manner of things; how to stay safe on the street, how to work my face and hair. i was such a low-femme punk girl nerd.

' girl, a banana is a puerto rican, a raisin is a black dude, and a snowflake is a white dude. so you'd say something like ' that banana was giving me tray. tray is dick cuz you can serve up some dick. or that snowflake was all up in my la cara. la cara means face.' 

tony and jamie used to carry hand held mirrors and switch blades in their purses. they were banji girls, inner glamazons from washington heights. we'd go to dark clubs where the dudes were hooligans; all lithe tattooed torsos, low slung jeans, and adidas. the girls liked rough boys. i'd support friends in drag shows at boy bar and red zone. i still have lady bunny fliers and an illustration i did of leigh bowery with phoebe leger then (she was an actual woman, but still looked like a drag queen who played an accordion among other things). i've always been fascinated by the illusion of drag, the theater, and fashion.

i got a glimmer of  bianca del rio on rupaul's drag race and i cycled through a few seasons. it takes me awhile to catch up and i usually do it in reverse. i spend more time reading than watching anything. bianca i knew of because of her hilarious stand-up. her style is old school like don rickles at the copacabana. she does clown-face drag in hourglass-cut, sequined dresses and spiraling bouffants.

bianca del rio (c) chad sell comics

 i watched the season bianca won and became fascinated with the other queens as i got into it. their make-up techniques and characters, the avant garde of max and pearl who don't wear padding and use their boyish bodies as part of their performance. the generational gap is often hysterical with the young queens in their 20s using the most nonsensical words and phrases. adore delano's (season 7) is priceless:

' party!  hash tag hog-body! hash tag fail! what the fuck, bitch?! ' 

' i thought max looked really cool and avant-garde even though i don't know what that means.' 

' he was in my face all...flazeda.'  said pearl. 

'bitch, whaat? '

pearl got so many jokes out of that non-word she made a perfume out of it. drag gibberish can become a thing. how is cool is that? 

this is entertainment reality so the drama is of course ratcheted up with cheeky cat-fights and reads. there are moments of my story; the sad or sweet tale of coming out, the supportive family, or the harsh childhood. there is always a tale of woe, because we all go through some things and none are immune from the human condition.  there are the old school beauty pageant queens like kennedy davenport and ginger minj whose costumes remind me of dynasty. ginger, with her southern drawl, refers to herself as a glamour toad (hilarious!).

bob the drag queen is a revelation. he's hilariously funny and his reads are legend. ' is beyonce afraid of britney?' he'll ask, looking into the camera with a straight face.  he'll take the racist, stereotype characters of crazy eyes, mix that with buckwheat and turn the madness from the past and the present in on itself - in drag.  genius!

bob the drag queen (cunt) (c) chad sell comics

i have a soft spot for the weirdos like max, trixie mattel, pearl, katya, and adore. they're fascinating in their boyishness, but still look amazing in drag. max is a 6'5 creature out of un chien andalou.  he often wears his hair a metallic gray. violet chachki channels dita von teese, but dragger. she is bananas. you may have seen her reversible tartan plaid jumper walk that went viral. yes, she made that. she's also strikingly good-looking as boy or drag. the bitch destroys!  adore is part punk, part rag doll. some drags, like adore, actually sing and record electro pop albums with original titles such as after party (i'm learning that with millennials an event comes first, then that's followed by an after-party. it's all quite sequential). 

trixie mattel (c) chad sell

laganja estranja is a very thin boy who does a trixie voice to excess (the over the top femme caricature). she's obsessed with weed and has designed horrible jewelry illustrating this. she was an immature, emotional mess. like a child who escaped a bad molly trip at an EDM festival gone horribly wrong. you know, the kid that says ' i almost died!' i do have hope for laganja as she grows up.

laganja estranja (c) chad sell comics

alaska thunderfuck i adore mostly for her name. she has the most amazing high femme gestures and movement; strutting fluidly in stilettos. can you walk in stilettos? i can not said the cat. she also does an hilarious anna wintour impression. last season violet usually won every runway challenge.  she's really stunning, whether in a corset cinched within an inch of her life, or her bearded drag in a 1950s dior inspired a-line dress. she even managed to make a rainbow clown jumper look cool. she also does aerial burlesque if you can imagine such a thing.

violet chachki (tartan realness) (c) chad sell comics

aesthetically i adore violet's and max's vintage-inspired glam. i find classic or unusual style to be  much more compelling than trendy. ombre and i are not friends. still, i adore the artistry and performance of drag and the illusion of gender. it interesting to me that drag can be somewhat paradoxically feminine.

        max (c) chad sell

 i love the idea of mystery and allure, but this generation has no interest in mystery or allure.  no one is really quiet anymore. everyone has ADD or speaks in made-up words like game-changer, acro-yoga or brand.  to me a brand is a cereal or a cleaning product that gets the job done. i'm such a geezer i have no idea how these girls ever have time to twitter or instagram between shows and tours. i deleted facebook off my phone because the struggle is real. i have an existentialist dilemma with apps.

now sissy that walk! 

one thing i'm hardcore about is having the bravery to be oneself.  not to be hip or impress or conform to any cultural trend or norm. authentic is savagely beautiful to me. i'm a straight anomaly, particularly for a black woman who has loved rude boy style and vintage since the 1980s. i've always been a weirdo who did my own thing.  a friend was aghast i would dare go to an industrial show in overalls and yet still be a mistress of the dark realm. there's no rule book that says spooky equals the absence of color or denim. i think i've always secretly been a drag queen, just too lazy to live the dream. these girls put in work! it's staggering and exhausting the shenans they have to go through on drag race. i'm content to be my regular fish self, chillin at home in my african-print rompers, rooting for the weird children.

 my goal is always to come from a place of love, but sometimes you just got to break it down for a motherfucker. - rupaul