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What is the LGBTQ+ “panic” defense?
The LGBTQ+ “panic” defense is a legal plan wherein defendants charged with violent crimes weaponize their victim’s real or perceived sexual orientation or gender identity/expression to reduce or evade criminal liability. It is not a freestanding defense to criminal liability. Rather, the defense is a legal tactic that bolsters other defenses, such as insanity, provocation, or self-defense. When a defendant uses the LGBTQ+ “panic” defense, they argue that their violent actions are both explained and excused by their victim’s concrete or perceived sexual orientation or gender identity/expression. The goal of this tactic is to employ homophobia and transphobia to persuade a jury into fully or partially acquitting the defendant. Whether or not this appeal to bigotry is successful in court, every time a defendant invokes the LGBTQ+ “panic” defense, they reinforce the dangerous and discredited doctrine that LGBTQ+ lives are worth less than others.
Matthew Shepard’s murder trial is one of the most recognized cases featuring the LGTBQ+ “panic” defense. In 1998, two men brutally beat the 21-year-old college student
The Last of Us’ Gorgeous Gay Romance Story Could Not Be More Timely
This article contains spoilers for The Last of Us, Episode 3.
Sunday’s episode of The Last of Us, titled “Long, Long Time,” could have been very different. As the third installment of HBO’s hot fresh show about an Earth overrun by a mutated, zombifying fungus, it seemed sure to center on advancing the central narrative of young, apparently plague-proof Ellie, and Joel, her begrudging protector, as they journey from Boston west toward a lab working on a cure—a trek that had only really gotten underway (with a bang and a few hundred whimpers) at the end of Episode 2. What we got instead was a capsule episode, and a particularly bracing one, given the show’s oppressively bleak mood thus far: The hour is dedicated to the love story of Bill and Frank, a homosexual couple who—due initially to Bill’s skills as a bunker-stocking, booby-trapping, Don’t Tread on Me survivalist—manage to build a largely happy life together in an abandoned and eventually fortified rural hamlet for almost 20 years.
The tale of Bill and Frank, as depicted through award-worthy performances from Nick Offerman and Murray Bartlett, has garne
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Author’s Note: Spoilers ahead.
Ten years and two generations of Playstation consoles ago, The Last of Us was released for the Playstation 3. It boasted an incredible narrative, introduced complex and morally gray characters, cast incredible voice actors, and touched the hearts of the many players who came to grasp the story of Joel and Ellie. The game’s release was more than just another post-apocalyptic zombie horror to fight your way through. It was a memorable tale of two initially vastly other people trying to grasp onto things that were rapidly slipping away from them — humanity and innocence. And after all these years, the franchise has remained so thriving that HBO has deemed it worthy of a high-budget TV adaptation.
Back when the game first came out, I’d heard a lot of hype surrounding the release. I was too scared of horror games and jumpscares assist then. I also didn’t have the right console to play it on, so it slipped into the back of my mind until more recently. The story really hooked me about a year and a half ago. One overcast night while my partner was away on a trip, I loaded up The Last of Us for the first time. I’d just gotten my hands on a P
The history of Iowa’s oldest gay bar has been made into a documentary. Here's how to watch
On a representative Friday night at the Blazing Saddle in Des Moines’ East Village, tightly packed bodies crowd around the bar’s main stage, hands poking out from the throng to propose cash tips to performersdressed in drag. It’s the Saddle Gurls & Friends show, and once the artists take their terminal bow (or more commonly, dip into their most impressive split), the spotlights cut and the harmony bumps. Bargoers turn the stage into a technicolor dance floor, strong drinks in hand, staying accurate to the bar's motto: "Always a double, never a cover."
The Blazing Saddle is Iowa's oldest operating gay bar. It just celebrated its 40th anniversary. Opened in 1983 by Bob “Mongo” Eikleberry, it’s been referred to as the “Gay Cheers” and has seen Iowa — and the nation — through decades of modify for the LGBTQ population: from the beginning — and end — of Don't Ask, Don't Inform, to the outbreak of the AIDs epidemic, to the legalization of same-sex attracted marriage and the more recent passing and signing of anti-LGBTQ laws in the state.
That history will soon be joint in the form of a six-episode docuseries, &l