About Katie Liederman
In my heart of hearts, whatever the hell that means, I know that I am an outlaw.
Queers are always eager to write and talk about themselves whenever the opportunity arises, and I’m no exception. Also, queers love themes. Theme nights, theme songs, and especially, themed readings. So when Kelli Dunham, esteemed comic and host of NYC’s reading series Queer Memoir, announced that the theme of her next event was “Inlaws and Outlaws,” I immediately signed up to read something. Quickly thereafter, I realized that I don’t have any inlaws, and that I didn’t know what an outlaw was. I was fucked. And much to my dismay, not literally. An outlaw made me think of some guy with a handlebar mustache who swaggers into a bar, making white bosomed women in corsets drop their drinks and cry for the county sheriff. It also made me think of Babeland’s notorious VixSkin “Outlaw,” because it’s the biggest one. If I wanted to learn what outlaws were about, I needed to read some stuff. Through some haphazard googling, I learned that Robin Hood is frequently cited as the most famous outlaw. I couldn’t really remember if Robin Hood was the same thing as Waterworld, or if he was Braveheart, or if he danced with wolves, so I googled “Robin Hood” and learned that all of the above is true. Wisegeek.com also taught me a thing or two, all of which lead me to the following realization: I am outlaw-idenitified.
Now, I may not be a cartoon Disney fox in a cropped green shirt, or wield a bow and arrow as I dash around the woods in a small, fitted jacket, and obviously I’m not that guy who saunters into bars with his jeans and his big hat, but I am someone who doesn’t really “do” rules, and who sometimes, in a way, steals from the rich to give to the poor, and for all these reasons and more, must live on the periphery of most cultures that are counter enough to begin with. In other words, I’m “other.”
“You know, not every trans woman is a perv, slinging around a pole and butt-clapping,” says Ceyenne Doroshow, elegant lady chef and author of the new memoir cookbook Cooking in Heels, set to be released this August. “I’m happy being who I am. I have a full life. At the pantry where I volunteer, I hand out condoms to senior citizens. On the 19th of May I’m trying to get a mobile testing unit there for World AIDS Day. I do a lot.”
Doroshow, a trans woman, activist, educator, and, of course, chef, has always been an avid lover of all things culinary. She’s also keen on storytelling and the intersection of cooking and healing. “If it wasn’t for the kitchen, I don’t know where I’d be today.”
She took some time to speak to PrettyQueer contributor Katie Liederman about glamour, mentorship, pig parts, and her new book.
Katie Liederman: What’s the most glamorous outfit you have ever cooked in?
Ceyenne Doroshow: I once cooked in a Dolce and Gabbana wrap gown. When you walk in it, your leg comes out. It looks like Morticia Adams’ gown– basic black. All you need are earrings – not even a necklace. I made tempura in it.
PQ: How do you cook in those nails?
CD: Well, normally my nails aren’t that long. I wore them that long for the video we taped for our kickstarter. But I’ve been cooking for so long. I can burn myself and keep going. I can cook anywhere in nails– even at a fireside by a campsite. I get so much enjoyment out of cooking. Even if I’m upset, I can just tune out everybody and hum.
In the opening scene of Bridesmaids, Kristin Wiig is getting pounded by a Beauty and the Beast, Gaston caricature of a man. He’s bad at sex for being brutish and outrageously unskilled, and she’s bad at sex for not telling him that he’s sexually incompetent. Either way, the scene is funny and reminds some of us of the sex we had before we were queer, or before were able to physically actualize our queerness with another person. Why is it okay for heterosexual cis people to be bad in bed, but the same doesn’t apply to queers? If a straight guy lasts for twelve seconds, it’s cute. It’s cute to joke about, at least. If a straight girl lays stiff as a board or mimics a woman in a bad porn, it’s like, “What else is new?” This is also fun to joke about.
Perhaps this is because some would argue that the sole criterion for being queer is the type of sex you do or don’t have; others believe that queerness is equal parts sexual practice and politics.
What do queers like about celebrating the 4th of July? Meat. (and other things)
Whenever someone tries to tell you about a dream they had the night before, you’re always like, “Shut up, no one cares about your dream.” Some long, rambling nonsensical rant where a bunch of weird shit happens for no reason and never amounts to anything– cool. Did a dragon crawl out from behind a bush, and then suddenly your grandmother turned into your dentist? Did you swallow a quail egg whole, only to be then told by William H. Macy that you had to shovel snow in a faux denim tracksuit? Here’s who cares about that dream: no one.