For Dmitry Kiselyov, the director of Russia’s massive new state media corporation—created in December to swallow up state media entities that show any hint of autonomy—laws are not enough. He’s concerned about organ donors, the possibility of a queer heart beating in a straight body.
When homosexuals die, he says, ‘their hearts should be burned.’
There are three faces of homophobia in Russia: that of the state, that of the Orthodox Church, that of the fringe. And yet they’re one—a kind of Trinity. The state passes laws; the church blesses them; the fringe puts them into action. The state is the mind of hate, the church, now, its heart; the fringe is made up of its many hands. Some use the courts; some use fists.
The booger in the pool is way more important to me than what place I came in at the 1988 or 1992 trials.
On June 2, as the torch bobbed along the avenues of Stornoway, what was I doing? According to my journal, I embraced life with ‘2 naps. Turkey club. Vague sense of unease.’ How did I occupy myself on June 20, when the torch was Leyburn-bound? ‘A real 3-napper. Shooed some pigeons from the fire escape. Whispered, ‘Am I falling apart?’ while I scooped a clump of hair from the bathtub drain.’ As the relay hit Potternewton, I have, simply, ‘Croatoan.’ The relay path described a map of my unworthiness.
Colson Whitehead visited the London Olympics. (We hear they get pretty freaky in that Village over there…)