In late June, eight armband designs were revealed that 2023 FIFA World Cup players could choose to wear on the pitch, including “Unite For Indigenous Peoples,” in partnership with United Nations Human Rights, and “Unite For Ending Violence Against Women,” in partnership with UN Women. However, despite the tournament’s theme of “Football Unites the World,” FIFA banned the “OneLove” armband or any armbands including Pride Flag imagery. This is ostensibly without reason; unlike Qatar which hosted the 2022 World Cup, the 2023 host countries Australia and New Zealand don’t criminalize LGBTQ+ people. Players receive a yellow card — a warning that could bar future participation — for wearing rainbow armbands, as was the case at the 2022 World Cup in Qatar.
In the broader scheme of American history, the Satanic Panic was one of many moral panics that got mainstream culture whipped up into a frenzy about the supposed threatened integrity of the ideals they held near and dear to their hearts. These moral panics were often a misdirected reaction to underlying issues; the public’s reaction to this was often to scapegoat other groups to deflect from the true cause of these issues. In America during the 1980s, the sexual abuse of children was finally being confronted after years of being ignored; and the public’s response to that frightening prospect was to turn to an equally frightening cause (to deflect from the more uncomfortable idea that it was really people they knew and trusted that were sexually abusing their children): Satanists.
Created by Zoë Collins This collage was originally published in our Fall 2022 print issue “Satanic Panic.“
The gaming community ten years ago was a toxic space for marginalized people, including the LGBTQ+ community. Video games in the early 2010s had minimal LGBTQ+ representation, and the scant representation that did exist portrayed LGBTQ+ people in an unpleasant light. The video games that were sympathetic to LGBTQ+ were few and far between and usually not considered triple-A games (a term for video games made by major video game publishers who have access to higher quality development and a larger budget).
There’s a lot of wondering and a lot of waiting. I understand what you might be feeling. I know that you’re biting your tongue, and always waiting till you make them uncomfortable.
Last year, we interviewed butch lesbian singer-songwriter Rio Romeo about their Valentine’s Day release, “Bet.” They’ve released a full EP since then, “Good God!” — a project full of what they called “love songs” in our last conversation (they certainly delivered). Just a couple days ago, they released a new single, “Danke Schoen.” Now, a year later, we all meet again, under some of the same conditions as last time. It feels almost like meeting an old friend, and we all catch up for a couple minutes before diving in.
Give me something to leave behind
A sour candy kiss in the theater
Worse things have made me lose my mind.
Why would one demonize love? It’s a question all queer people have asked ourselves and the people around us at some point in our lives. In the face of every discriminatory law, every crime committed against us, every right that is so quickly stripped away, it is safe to say that no one in the queer community has truly found the answer, — but that hasn’t stopped us from trying. Queer artist Sophia Eiss explores this question and the emotions tied to our inability to answer it in her latest single, “INNOCENT LOVE.”
“Everything Everywhere All at Once” is a love letter to the Asian American immigrant community and a startlingly sincere portrayal of modern queerness. In an era of formulaic superhero films and live-action Disney remakes, it is a breath of fresh air and a reminder that art can be transformative.