Walter Crasshole on queer art and accepting criticism

Jun. 28 – I’m not perfect. There, I said it. I have a fucking loud mouth and when I get drunk, I tend to shoot my mouth off, often just to see what I can get away with. You can call it my art. Some queens find my antics funny, some find them basic, some are offended and some just think I'm an asshole. To the latter two reactions, I’ve got to take my medicine and deal with the criticism that comes with it.

What does it take to handle criticism? A strong backbone and the ability to recognize when it is valid. But how does it play out in the queer scene? A scene that, as big as it is in Berlin, is still positioned against a majority – and therefore relies a lot on solidarity. That’s a good thing. I’m happy to see us propping each other up, supporting each other’s projects, giving each other love or a shoulder to cry on when times get rough.

But often times, that solidarity is used as a shield against criticism. A falsity of logic in which solidarity means unquestioning loyalty to something you don’t agree with or quite simply doesn’t suit your taste. Just because queers should “stick together” doesn’t mean that we all have to lick each other’s boots. (One needs consent for that first.)

Over the years in Berlin, I’ve often seen that if you’re not totally with something 100 percent, you’re not supportive of queers at all. When someone makes art, throws parties, writes books, shoots films or anything, there is an assumption that the rest of us will support it unconditionally. Just because we come from marginalized perspectives (some from more than one), doesn’t mean the art, activism, organizing or whatever we do is flawless. Just because a refugee writes a song, for example, does it mean it must be good? No. And just because you make a queer film, it doesn’t automatically make it enjoyable. Just because you write a queer book, doesn’t make it readable. Just because you write a queer column, doesn’t mean everyone’s going to agree with it.

If you stamp it with “queer”, it will be discussed by queers, and the fallibility of your project is subject to scrutiny. The danger comes when criticism is levied and people don’t respond well. Starting flame wars is worse for scene solidarity than anyone's criticism.

I’m left pondering how we deal with criticism all the time in Berlin – behind closed doors, out in the open on Facebook or quite simply face-to-face in public forums. I mean bars. I know people pour their heart and soul into their projects, and to have someone point out its faults feels like an attack. And the knee-jerk response to feeling attacked is to strike back. But that does nothing to further any conversations of either art itself or queer solidarity. It hijacks it.

Bottom line, if the critique is warranted and done without malice, have a strong backbone and deal with it. In the long run, criticism is good for us. We process it and then move on.

Walter Crasshole moved from San Francisco to Berlin in 2009. He also writes for Exberliner