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JIM CARREY 


t: @JimCarrey 


For PLAvBoY's Equality Issue, our new con- 
tributing cartoonist chose to honor the 
late civil rights activist and public servant 
Elijah Cummings with an illustration titled 
For Goodness Sake. 71 drew Elijah Cum- 
mings because he stood for love, fair- 
ness and truth. He embodied what is left 
of our endangered moral conscience, 
says the award-winning actor. Carrey will 
soon return to season two of Kidding and 
release his semi-autobiographical novel, 
Memoirs and Misinformation. 


CHLOE & CHENELLE 


i: @chloeandchenelle 


“Diane Guerrero has such a strong voice 
in the community, and we wanted to 
capture that,” say the Delgadillo sisters, 
our 200 stylists. “The Statue of Liberty 
served as our muse. We played with col- 
ors and shapes to make her feel and look 
powerful.” Despite schedules overflowing 
with aloum covers, marketing campaigns 
and music videos, they're no strangers 
to our sets, having dressed a handful of 
our feature subjects this year, from BDSM 
role-players to King Princess. 


JERRY SALTZ 

i: @jerrysaltz 

After moderating The Art of Sexuality, a 
Playboy-hosted art talk in New York City, 
the senior art critic for New York magazine 
signed on to interview revolutionary artist 
JR for us (Portraits for the People). “JR is a 
weapon of mass artistic destruction and 
retinal pleasure amid the corruption and 
crises of our Western democracy,” says 
the Pulitzer Prize winner. His upcoming 
book How to Be an Artist sets out to con- 
vert his experience аз a critic and lecturer 
into an accessible guide for the art novice. 


SHAN BOODRAM 
i: Ashanboody 


The pains of polyamory, bottom dysmor- 
phia and thinking about sex 24/7: Boodram 
tackles these and other sexual quandaries 
with wit and empathy as this issue's guest 
Playboy Advisor. This isn't her first stint in 
the hot seat: In May, the certified sexol- 
ogist and author of The Game of Desire 
hosted a live session of Playboy Advisor 
at the Playhouse, our pop-up magazine 
event, where she offered modern answers 
to questions from 1960s-era PLAYBOYS. 


HEATHER HAZZAN 


i: @heatherhazzan 


Hazzan, a New York-based photographer 
and self-described lover of podcasts апа 
outcasts, traveled to an Italian-style villa in 
the Los Angeles hills to photograph Jan- 
uary 2020 Playmate Riley Ticotin (New 
Year's Revolution). “| wanted Riley to spear- 
head her own shoot and know that every 
person on the team had her back,” Haz- 
zan says. Her past subjects include music 
breakout Lizzo, presidential candidate Eliz- 
abeth Warren and pLavsov models Molly 
Constable and Christine Sofie Johansen. 


JILL FILIPOVIC 
t: @jillfilipovic 


Filipovic brings her shared experience in 
a male-dominated industry to her Playboy 
Interview with legendary newswoman 
Christiane Amanpour. “Christiane орепеа 
upawolld of possibilities for other women 
in journalism, showing us what we could 
be without рита the ladder up behind 
her as she rose,” notes the lawyer, political 
journalist and author of 2017's The H-Spot: 
The Feminist Pursuit of Happiness. 


CREDITS: Cover: photography by Nadia Lee Cohen, model Reneé Tenison. Photography by: inside cover and p. 1 courtesy Playboy Archives; p. 4 courtesy Kelia Anne, courtesy Roeg Cohen, courtesy Gary He, courtesy Jason 


LaVeris/FilmMagic, courtesy Dina Litovsky, Maya Washington; p. 5 courtesy Spiros Halaris, courtesy Emma Holly Jones, courtesy Cassandra Keyes, courtesy Michael Lionstar, courtesy Todd Lown, courtesy Craig MacLean; 
p. 12 courtesy Nadia Lee Cohen, Erica Loewy (6); p. 13 courtesy Getty Images for PEN America, courtesy Dina Litovsky, courtesy Morris family, courtesy Playboy Archives, Simon Hanselmann; p. 18 David Lee/Focus Features/ 


Kobal/Shutterstock, Legendary Pictures/Kobal/Shutterstock; p. 19 courtesy Atsushi Nishijima/Netflix; p. 35 courtesy Allyson Riggs/Hulu; p. 64 Alfonso Jimenez/Shutterstock; p. 65 Moriah Ratner/AP/Shutterstock; pp. 100- 


09 


O Hank Willis Thomas, courtesy the artist and Jack Shainman Gallery, New York; pp. 116-125 JR-art.net; p. 141 Erica Loewy; p. 187 Erica Loewy; pp. 209-220 courtesy Playboy Archives; p. 221 courtesy Anthony Alvarez/NYLS, 
courtesy Doug Andrews/The Corsair Newspaper, courtesy Playboy Archives (3), AP/Shutterstock; рр. 222-232, 234 and inside cover courtesy Playboy Archives. Рр 30-31 Lapinot: Countrysidekick © Lewis Trondheim; рр. 88-98 


Francophile O Claire Lombardo, 2019; pp. 148-153 Gazillionaire: 7120 O Matt Lubchansky. Pp. 14-17 styling by Kelley Ash, hair by Chanel Croker, makeup by Samuel Rauda, prop styling by Briana Gonzales; pp. 24-29 styl 
by Molly Russell; pp. 41-49 hair and makeup by Yoko Fumoto; pp. 54-57 styling by Vanessa Gonzalez, grooming by Kayti Pillor, set design by KayCee Tarricone; pp. 66-71 styling by Chloe and Chenelle Delgadillo, hair by C 


ing 
ay- 


ton Hawkins, makeup by Fabiola ФТМСГА; рр. 110-115 styling by Marcus Ivory, hair by Susy Oludele, makeup by Christian Diaz, manicure by Еп Ishizu, prop styling by Seth Brody, animal handling by All Star Animals/Jeff Gold- 


enbaum; pp. 142-146 hair and makeup by Jami Cox; pp. 164-171 styling by Naz Meknat, grooming by Kathy Santiago; pp. 72-83, 87 styling by Calvy Click, hair by Amber Duarte, makeup by Karo Kangas; pp. 126-137, sty 


ing 


by Kelley Ash, hair and makeup by Sparkle Tafao; pp. 172-183 styling by Kelley Ash, hair by Eddie Cook, makeup by Heather Cvar; pp. 196-207 models Candace Collins Jordan, Raquel Pomplun, Brande Roderick, Reneé Ten- 
ison, Victoria Valentino, styling by Chloe and Chenelle Delgadillo, hair by Sami Knight, hair assistance by Arbana Dollani and Allie Ellis, makeup by Lily Keys, makeup assistance by Kasha Lassien, nails by Yoko Sakakura. 
U.S. POSTAL SERVICE STATEMENT OF OWNERSHIP, MANAGEMENT AND CIRCULATION. 1. Publication title: Playboy. 2. Publication number: 0032-1478. 3. Filing date: October 1, 2019 4. Issue frequency: Quarterly. 5. Num- 


ber of issues published annually: 4. 6. Annual subscription price: $38.97. 7. Complete mailing address of known office of publication: Playboy Enterprises, Inc., 10960 Wilshire Blvd, Los Angeles, CA 90024. 8. Complete mai 


ing 


ELIZABETH ЗИМАМ 


Г: @elizabethsuman 


The PLAveov senior editor focuses her edi- 
torial curation on the arts, whether articu- 
lated in spray paint or pubic hair. This issue, 
she introduces Hank Willis Thomas (The 
Art of Attention), inaugurates a new con- 
tributing cartoonist (Jim Carrey) and pre- 
sents JR (Portraits for the People). “PLAYBOY 
has always been a platform for creatives 
to express themselves with freedom," she 
says. "I hope to continue that legacy." 


SPIROS HALARIS 

i: @spiroshalaris 

Halaris's art will be familiar to regular de- 
vourers of pLavsoy fiction. His ethereal il- 
lustrations accompany recent reads The 
Kiss, The Modern Era and We Are Not Here. 
For his latest commission (Francophile), 
Halaris looked to Renaissance paintings 
and romantic European films. "The main 
character also influenced the mood of the 
series," he says. "| tried to evoke sensuality, 
nostalgia and domesticity to represent the 
trips between her past and her present.” 


FRANKLIN LEONARD 
i: @franklinjleonard 


How did this producer, professor and CEO 
of the Black List, Hollywood's prestige in- 
cubator for filmmakers and screenwrit- 
ers, go about guest-editing The Playboy 
Symposium on women, sex and cinema? 
^My approach was simple," he says. "Pass 
the microphone to a woman who knows 
the subject better than |" The result is 
a seven-page study by Kate Hagen, the 
Black List's director of community. 


NERYL WALKER 


i: @nerylwalker 


In fall 2018, PLavBov creative director Erica 
Loewy e-mailed Walker with а chal- 
lenge: Reimagine LeRoy Neiman's fa- 
mous Femlin, the first iteration of which 
appeared in our Party Jokes page in 
1955. “| love the fact that pLavsoy asked а 
woman to reinterpret the Femlin. It's about 
women owning their sexuality rather than 
being objectified by it,” the Australian art- 
ist tells us. "The Femlin is fun, cheeky, 
sassy and confident." Walker's spritely cre- 
ations have appeared in every issue since. 


CLAIRE LOMBARDO 


t: Oclairelombardo 


Should we feel empathy for adulter- 
ers? Lombardo, an lowa Writers” Work- 
shop graduate and New York Times 
best-selling author (The Most Fun We 
Ever Had), weaves past and present in 
her search for an answer in Francophile, 
her PLavBov fiction debut. "Movement 
through fictional time gives us, as read- 
ers, the benefit of hindsight,” she says. “It 
informs our understanding of characters, 
and their choices and circumstances, in 
a more three-dimensional way." 


ELSA JEAN 

i: @elsajeanofficial 

In Fandomination, we meet adult per- 
formers who are converting freeload- 
ing fans into subscribers. One such 
subject, Elsa Jean, who has been ac- 
tive in the adult industry since 2014, can 
be found on many platforms, includ- 
ing PlayboyPlus.com. “We as sex work- 
ers are special enough to have the ability 
to express our sexuality with people world- 
wide,” Jean says. “Sex is such a beautiful 
thing; | love that | can share it with people.” 


address of headquarters or general business office of publisher: Playboy Enterprises, Inc., 10960 Wilshire Blvd, Los Angeles, CA 90024. 9. Full names and complete mailing addresses of publisher, editor and editorial director: 
Publisher Reena Patel, c/o Playboy Enterprises, Inc., 10960 Wilshire Blvd, Los Angeles, CA 90024; Editor Shane Singh, c/o Playboy Enterprises, Inc., 10960 Wilshire Blvd, Los Angeles, CA 90024; Managing Editor Gil Macias, c/o 
Playboy Enterprises, Inc., 10960 Wilshire Blvd, Los Angeles, CA 90024. 10. Owner: Playboy Enterprises, Inc., 10960 Wilshire Blvd, Los Angeles, CA 90024. 11. Known bondholders, mortgagees and other security holders own- 
ing or holding one percent or more of total amount of bonds, mortgages or other securities: Icon Acquisition Holdings, LLC, 10960 Wilshire Blvd, Los Angeles, CA 90024. 12. Tax status (for completion by nonprofit organiza- 
tions authorized to mail at nonprofit rates): not applicable. 13. Publication title: Playboy. 14. Issue date for circulation data below: September/October 2018. 15. Extent and nature of circulation: Average number of copies each 
issue during preceding 12 months: a. Total number of copies: 155,345; b. Paid circulation: (1) Paid outside-county mailed subscriptions: 116,838; (2) Paid in-county mailed subscriptions: O; (3) Paid distribution outside the mails 
including sales through dealers and carriers, street vendors, counter sales and other non-USPS paid distribution: 12,187; (4) Paid distribution by other classes mailed through the USPS: O; c. Total paid distribution: 129,025; 
d. Free or nominal rate distribution: (1) Free or nominal rate outside-county: 133; (2) Free or nominal rate in-county: O; (3) Free or nominal rate other classes mailed through the USPS: O; (4) Free or nominal rate distribution 
outside the mail: 2,950; е. Total free or nominal rate distribution: 3,083; f. Total distribution: 132,108; 9. Copies not distributed: 23,235; В. Total: 155,343; i. Percent paid: 97.7%. 16. Electronic Paid Circulation. Paid Electronic 
Copies: 77,921b. Total Paid Print Copies * Paid Electronic Copies: 206,946c. Total Print Distribution * Paid Electronic Copies: 210,029d. Percent Paid (Both Print & Electronic Copies): 98.5%. Number of copies of single issue 
published nearest to filing date: а. Total number of copies: 137,032; b. Paid circulation: (1) Paid outside-county mailed subscriptions: 97,453; (2) Paid in-county mailed subscriptions: 0; (3) Paid distribution outside the mails in- 
cluding sales through dealers and carriers, street vendors, counter sales and other non-USPS paid distribution: 9,387; (4) Paid distribution by other classes mailed through the USPS: O; c. Total paid distribution: 106,840; d. 
Free or nominal rate distribution: (1) Free or nominal rate outside-county: 122; (2) Free or nominal rate in-county: 0; (3) Free or nominal rate other classes mailed through the USPS: 0; (4) Free or nominal rate distribution out- 
side the mail: 3,550; e. Total free or nominal rate distribution: 3,672; f. Total distribution: 110,512; g. Copies not distributed: 26,520; h. Total: 137,032; i. Percent paid: 96.790616. Electronic Paid Circulation. Paid Electronic Cop- 
ies: 74,720b. Total Paid Print Copies + Paid Electronic Copies: 181,560c. Total Print Distribution + Paid Electronic Copies: 185,232d. Percent Paid (Both Print & Electronic Copies): 98.0%.—David С. Israel, CFO/COO, Playboy Media. 


PLAYBOY 5 


VOL. 67, NO. 1 


PLAYMATES € 
PICTORIALS 


92 


126 


172 


196 


JANUARY: RILEY ТІСОТІМ 
Calabasas has more than опе 
queen; watch our first 2020 
Playmate take the throne 


FEBRUARY: CHASITY 
SAMONE 

From the Army to PLAYBOY to 
the political sphere (soon), 
this Playmate is ambition 
personified 


MARCH: ANITA 
PATHAMMAVONG 

Adrift on a sea of marigolds, the 
native Laotian explorer radiates 
confidence and kindness 


ONCE A PLAYMATE, 
ALWAYS A PLAYMATE 

Five Playmates star in a historic 
pictorial that celebrates the vast 
range of womanhood 


COVER STORY 

It's a full house, and our 
Rabbit has found himself with 
a perfect hand—that is, the 
hand of 1990 Playmate of the 
Year Reneé Tenison. 


DEPARTMENTS 


14 


24 


22 


36 


50 


ALSO: 


SEX: FANDOMINATION 

The latest disruption in the adult 
industry gives control back to 
performers 


MANIN HIS DOMAIN: 
ORVILLE PECK 

Mask aside, the croonino 
cowboy has nothing to hide 


CULTURE: THE GOOD 
WITCH OF THE NORTHWEST 
Lindy West does not have to be 
shrill anymore 


GUEST ADVISOR: 
SHAN BOODRAM 
Intimacy insights from the 
YouTube-slaying sexpert 


TRAVEL: UZUPIS UTOPIA 
Exploring the Lithuanian 
republic and the strange allure 
of micronations 


Check out our inside covers for 
some vintage PLAvBoYv outtakes. 
Plus, the case for drug decrimin- 
alization and the power and pain 
of playing a racist on-screen 


HERITAGE 


209 


218 


221 


224 


ALSO: 


DIAMOND DAYS 

Light the candles: It's the 
Playboy Bunny's 60th. To 
celebrate, we talked to more 
than a dozen former cottontails 
about their favorite memories 


DEPTH OF FIELD 

We shine a spotlight on 
Vincent Tajiri, the magazine's 
founding photo director 


PLAYBOY'S REARVIEW 
Across the decades and the 
pages, the magazine has been 
home to compelling, and 
sometimes surprising, content 


ANNE MARIE FOX 

From her serendipitous 
discovery as a model to her 
work on film sets, our February 
1982 Playmate tells us what it's 
like to conquer both sides of 
the camera 


Bringing to life the Bunny suit, 
classic cartoons, and a snapshot 
of activism inside the original 
Playboy Mansion 


PLAYBOY INTERVIEW 
41 | CHRISTIANE AMANPOUR 


The world-renowned news 
authority marks the dawn 

of her “sexy 60s” in a fiery 
conversation with Jill Filipovic 


200 
66 DIANE GUERRERO 


Тһе Doom Patrol star sounds 
off on immigration, gender 
inequality and mental health 


PROFILE 


142 AVERY MILLENNIAL 
SCANDAL 
Katie Hill's resignation is only the 
beginning of what she expects 
to become a generation- 
defining fight for privacy 


FICTION 
88 FRANCOPHILE 


Past and present collide in 
Claire Lombardo's tale of two 
lovers and their perhaps not- 
so-oblivious spouses 


COMICS 
30  LAPINOT 


Lewis Trondheim’s funny 
bunny and his sidekick get 
“ruined” in this mini tale 


148 | GAZILLIONAIRE: 7120 
Can Micah Veerman seed 
the universe with his 22nd 
century...ideas? A tale of 
adventure capitalism from 
Matt Lubchansky 


THE PLAYBOY 
SYMPOSIUM 


189 ON SEX, CINEMA AND THE 
FEMALE GAZE 
What makes a great sex scene 
in 2020? The Black List's Kate 
Hagen zooms in 


66 


24 


FEATURES 


54 


58 


100 


10 


116 


154 


158 


164 


ALSO: 


ERIC ANDRE FOR PRESIDENT 
Cocaine, fellatio, Speedos— 
welcome to the Cool Party 


ANTIFA IN FOCUS 

Out of the shadows and on the 
record: a bracing look at the 
antifascist movement 


THE ART OF ATTENTION 
Artist Hank Willis Thomas is 
a master of the pop-culture 
collision 


FORCE OF NATURE 
Princess Nokia conjures the four 
elements— giant snakes and all 


PORTRAITS FOR THE 
PEOPLE 

Two art-world insiders, JR 
and Jerry Saltz, discuss the 
former's epochal new work 


THE OTHER PLAN B 

Shira Tarrant argues why pro- 
choicers need to adopt the term 
abortion beneficiaries 


SEIZURE CITY 

Ahead of the 2028 Olympics, 
Los Angeles is cleaning up its 
act by pushing people out 


STYLE: STERLING FOR ALL 
Actor turned producer Sterling 
K. Brown talks representation 
while flaunting his natural swag 


Party Jokes curated by 
comedian Demi Adejuyigbe; Jim 
Carrey illustrates a tribute to the 
late Elijah Cummings 


SLNALNOO—0Z0¢ JHALNIM 


PLAYBOY 


HUGH М. HEFNER 
FOUNDING EDITOR-IN-CHIEF 
1953-2017 


SHANE MICHAEL SINGH EXECUTIVE EDITOR 
ANNA WILSON MULTIMEDIA DIRECTOR 
ERICA LOEWY CREATIVE DIRECTOR 


EDITORIAL 
JAMES RICKMAN EXECUTIVE EDITOR 
CAT AUER DEPUTY EDITOR 
GIL MACIAS MANAGING EDITOR 
RYAN GAJEWSKI, ELIZABETH SUMAN SENIOR EDITORS 
ARIELA KOZIN, ANITA LITTLE FEATURES EDITORS 
WINIFRED ORMOND COPY CHIEF; ROBERT BUSCEMI, DAVID CAPLAN CONTRIBUTING COPY EDITORS 
MICHELE SLEIGHEL, HALEY STAMP RESEARCH EDITORS; ANDREW SHAFER CONTRIBUTING RESEARCH EDITOR 
TORI LYNN ADAMS ASSOCIATE EDITOR; KRISTI BECK SENIOR MANAGER, FRANCHISES 
DREAM HAMPTON, DAVID HOCHMAN, MOLLY JONG-FAST, BRIAN KAREM, MATT MCGORRY, JESSICA P. OGILVIE, 
R. KURT OSENLUND, ASHLEE MARIE PRESTON, STEPHEN REBELLO, ADAM SKOLNICK, ERIC SPITZNAGEL, ALEX THOMAS CONTRIBUTING EDITORS 
JIM CARREY CONTRIBUTING CARTOONIST 


ART & PHOTOGRAPHY 
REGINA ROSATO ASSOCIATE ART DIRECTOR 
AARON LUCAS ART MANAGER; SASHA NETCHAEV SENIOR GRAPHIC DESIGNER 
JILLIAN NEWMAN PROJECT MANAGER 
SANDRA EVANS MANAGER, PHOTO PRODUCTION 
TERREN LIN DIRECTOR, VIDEO OPERATIONS; JEREMY CRISAFULLI MANAGER, VIDEO PRODUCTION 
NATALIE ALVARADO, LILY FERGUSON ASSOCIATE PHOTO EDITORS 
CHRISTIE HARTMANN DIRECTOR, PLAYBOY ARCHIVES 

JOEY COOMBE SENIOR ARCHIVIST, PLAYBOY ARCHIVES 
AMY KASTNER-DROWN SENIOR DIGITAL MEDIA MANAGER, PLAYBOY ARCHIVES 

EVAN WOODS ASSOCIATE ART DIRECTOR, MULTIMEDIA 


PRODUCTION 


LESLEY K. RIPPON PRODUCTION DIRECTOR 


DIGITAL & SOCIAL 
MARITZA YOES SENIOR DIRECTOR, CONTENT MARKETING 
ANDIE EISEN, HELEN SIBILA ASSOCIATE EDITORS 


BRAND & MARKETING 
RACHEL WEBBER CHIEF MARKETING OFFICER 
DARIAN EDWARDS SENIOR VICE PRESIDENT, DESIGN; ZACH GLASS SENIOR VICE PRESIDENT, MARKETING OPERATIONS 
ANNA ONDAATJE VICE PRESIDENT, BRAND; JAMAL DAUDA VICE PRESIDENT, CONTENT MARKETING 


PUBLIC RELATIONS 


TERI THOMERSON SENIOR DIRECTOR, PUBLIC RELATIONS; PRISCILA MARTINEZ PUBLICITY 


INTERNATIONAL PUBLISHING 
HAZEL THOMSON SENIOR DIRECTOR, INTERNATIONAL PUBLISHING AND LICENSING 
MICHAEL OLSON MANAGER, INTERNATIONAL PUBLISHING AND LICENSING 


Playboy (ISSN 0032-1478), Winter 2020, volume 67, number 1. Published quarterly by Playboy in national and regional editions, Playboy, 10960 Wilshire Blvd., Los Angeles, CA 90024. Periodicals postage paid at Los 
Angeles, California and at additional mailing offices. Canada Post Canadian Publications Mail Sales Product Agreement No. 40035534. Subscriptions: in the U.S., $39.99 for a year. Postmaster: Send all UAA to CFS (see 
DMM 707.4.12.5); nonpostal and military facilities, send address changes to Playboy, Р.О. Box 420307, Palm Coast, FL 32142-0307. For subscription-related questions, e-mail playboy@emailcustomerservice.com. To 
commenton content, e-maillettersgplayboy.com.* Weoccasionally make portions of our customer list available to carefully screened companies that offer products or services we believe you may enjoy. If you do not want 
to receive these offers or information, please let us know by writing to us at Playboy Enterprises International, Inc. c/o PCD, P.O. Box 420307, Palm Coast, FL 32142-0307, or e-mail playboy@emailcustomerservice.com. It 
generally requires eight to 10 weeks for your request to become effective. - Playboy assumes no responsibility to return unsolicited editorial or graphic or other material. All rights in letters and unsolicited editorial and 
graphic material will be treated as unconditionally assigned for publication and copyright purposes, and material will be subjectto Playboy's unrestricted rightto editand comment editorially. Contents copyright O 2019 
by Playboy. All rights reserved. Playboy, Playmate and Rabbit Head symbolare marks of Playboy, registered U.S. Trademark Office. No part of this book may bereproduced, stored inaretrieval system or transmitted in any 
form by any electronic, mechanical, photocopying or recording means or otherwise without prior written permission of the publisher. Any similarity between the people and places in the fiction and semi-fiction in this 
magazine and any real people and places is purely coincidental. For credits see pages 4and 5. Certificado de licitud de titulo No. 7570 defecha29 de Julio de1993, y certificado de licitud de contenido No. 5108 defecha29 
de Julio de 1993 expedidos por la comision Calificadora de publicaciones y revistas ilustradas dependiente de la secretaría de gobernación, Mexico. Reserva de derechos 04-2000-071710332800-102. Printed in USA. 


Y PLAYBOY 


BY 


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А Letter 


“Absolutely.” 

When we called Victoria Valentino, who 
first appeared in this magazine as a Playmate 
in September 1963, and asked if she would 
consider being іп PLAYBOY again, at the асе of 
77, she didn't hesitate. Like us, she recognizes 
that in 2020, fighting for equality means pro- 
viding actual visibility. An activist against 
sexual assault, Valentino knows firsthand 
how speaking truth to power—she coura- 
geously spoke out against Bill Cosby in 2014— 
is asocietal force for good. She also knows that 
beauty has no boundaries. 

In this, our Equality Issue, you'll meet peo- 
ple whose fearless work gives us hope that in 
this next decade we will all enjoy a more equi- 
table society. 

Christiane Amanpour, one of the most re- 
spected journalists of our time, is the subject 
of this issue's Playboy Interview. Currently 
the host of an eponymous news show on CNN 
and PBS, Amanpour has interviewed doz- 
ens of world leaders, from Angela Merkel 
to Yasir Arafat to Bill Clinton. Here she ap- 
pears as interviewee, discussing how she re- 
ports on topics including gender inequality, 
climate-change denial and the current threats 
to our democracy. She also talks sex—and 
trust us, it's a page-turner. 

For this issue's Playboy Symposium, we 
partnered with Franklin Leonard and Kate 
Hagen, the Black List's founder and director 
of community, respectively, to examine how 
well (if at all) Hollywood is keeping up with 
evolving attitudes on sex, sexuality and gen- 
der in cinematic representations. And across 
two music features, we profile the enigmatic 
country singer Orville Peck and the rising 
rap star Princess Nokia, two artists who are 
rethinking gender norms in their genres and 
in the industry at large. 

For A Very Millennial Scandal, PLAYBOY 
features editor Anita Little interviewed for- 
mer congresswoman Katie Hill in the days 
before and after her resignation. Hill, in the 
wake of a political scandal that brought about 
online debates on revenge porn and sexual 


misconduct at work, is forging ahead with a 
new mission to protect others from falling vic- 
tim to internet-fueled sex shaming. 

In The Other Plan B, gender studies pro- 
fessor Shira Tarrant argues that regressive 
reproductive-health laws represent a penalty 
against sex and that men benefit more from 
access to abortions than they realize. Here 
at PLAYBOY we are particularly proud to have 
supported the National Network of Abortion 
Funds last year, and in 2020 we will remain 
committed to advocacy in the face of state and 
federallegislative challenges. 

As always, the arts will light the way, which 
is why it was paramount for us to present a 
group of artists who excel at creating spaces 
for conversation, connection and represen- 
tation. Director and photographer Nadia Lee 
Cohen's cover pictorial, Once a Playmate, 
Always a Playmate, features the perpetually 
magnetic Valentino, Candace Collins Jordan, 
Reneé Tenison, Brande Roderick and Raquel 
Pomplun. Elsewhere, we examine how art 
fosters equality through Hank Willis Thom- 
as's traveling retrospective (The Art of At- 
tention), JR's career-defining mural in New 
York (Portraits for the People) and Sterling K. 
Brown's new production company in Los An- 
geles (Sterling for All). We are also thrilled to 
add Jim Carrey's incomparable imagination 
to our pages; the actor-artist contributes For 
Goodness Sake, a visual tribute to the late civil 
rights leader Elijah Cummings. 

And finally, our first Playmates and Play- 
mate photographers of the new decade: Riley 
Ticotin, shot by Heather Hazzan; Chasity 
Samone, shot by Adrienne Raquel; and Anita 
Pathammavong, shot by Ali Mitton. Together, 
these women demonstrate the importance 
and beauty of individuality. As Pathamma- 
vong writes, "I believe that empathy is the 
first step toward equality. We simply cannot 
let discrimination be indulged and privilege 
weaponized to divide people. We need to take 
the time to listen and educate instead of com- 
ing from a place of pain and anger." 

So welcome to 2020. This is our vision for it. 


From the Editors 


EVERYONE ІОУЕ5 SOMEONE 


WHO HAD AN ABORTION. 


X 2. 
74/42 
e 715 
е, з-4 
; LEARN MORE AT 
NATIONAL NETWORK OF 
ABORTION FUNDS ABORTIONFUNDS.ORG 


WORLD OF PLAYBOY 


Бете! 


12 


Nadia Lee Cohen, the mastermind behind both this issue's nostalgic 
cover and the ad campaign for Playboy's new fragrance, Make the Cover 


(coming March 2020), creates work with the instinct of a storyteller. That 
may explain why the British artist gravitates toward eccentric and strik- 
ing characters who can effortlessly weave a narrative into her cinematic 
portraits. For the Equality Issue's cover story, Once a Playmate, Always 
a Playmate, Cohen used her lens to "focus a spotlight on age and pho- 


tograph something | consider to be underrepresented in popular cul- 
ture," she tells us. Cohen invited five Playmates across six decades—1963 
through 2012—to help bring her vision to life. “| wanted to celebrate the 
original Playmates who helped shape and pioneer the brand." 


РауБоу 5 
Егеедот 
Fighters 


In November, PEN Amé 
honored First Amendme 
torney Theodore J. Bout 
Jr. with its Distinguished 
ership Award in recognition 
his free speech advocacy" Не 
has worked with comedian and ~ 
2018 Playboy Interview su < 
Kathy Griffin, who called 
trous after the Depart 
of Justice investigated he 
conspiracy to assassinate 
president; reporter Jim Acosta, 
who refused to yield his ques- 
tioning of Trump; and PLAYBOY 


White House correspondent 
Brian Karem, whose press pass G і а ау 0 р 


was геуокед Бу Press Secretary 

Stephanie Grisham without For this edition of Man in 
cause. In August, Boutrous suc- Domain, Marissa Moss atte 
cessfully sued the White House, to capture just how captiva 
arguing Karems suspension Orville Peck, the elusive co 
violated the First and Fifth truly is. To further explore 
Amendments. We congratulate masked musicians origins, Simorr 
Boutrous on his award. Hanselmann, creator of last 588657 


Meggs Pleasure, stepped in to 


illustrate an original comic (right). 
Visit Playboy.com to see more. 


Remembering 
Stephanie Morris 


Stephanie Morris, a talented 


ЗО years working for PLAYB 
passed away this fall. “| dor 


she was at her job,” reflects 
Пуп Grabowski, another form 


great team, and a lot of cred 
goes to Stephanie.” 


The Art 
Outsiders 


“Sometimes outsiders make the 
most powerful insiders,” says se- 
nior editor Elizabeth Suman, who 
united French “wallpaper artist” 
JR and New York magazine senior 
art critic Jerry Saltz for an in-depth 
conversation in our photo feature, 
Portraits for the People. Forgoing 
a traditional interview for a private 
tour of JR's exhibit at the Brooklyn 
Museum, the two men bonded 
over their unconventional ap- 
proaches to their crafts. “JR didn't 
go to art school and is becoming 
one of the most recognizable 
artists in the world,” says Suman. 
“Jerry was a truck driver until he 
was 41, and recently won а Рий- 
zer. Each, in his own way, is bring- 
ing art to anew demographic and 
challenging what the art com- 
munity could, and should, look 
like" The show's centerpiece, The 
Chronicles of New York City, fea- 
tures 1128 New Yorkers displayed 
across 32 feet of museum real 
estate. The mural becomes even 
more impactful when viewers re- 
alize it's connected to an AR app, 
JR:murals, which features audio 
clips of each subject. Turn to page 
118 to download the app and hear 
the PLAveov pages tell their story. 


Just a few years before Debbie 
Harry got her big break as the 
unapologetic frontwoman of 
Blondie, she did a stint as a Bunny 
at the New York Playboy Club. In 
her recent memoir, Face It, Harry 
touches on everything from 
Bunny-hood to bankruptcy to 
the band's breakup. To read more 
about her experience wearing the 
ears and tail, check out Diamond 
Days (page 209). 


РНОТОСКАРНҮ ВҮ 
CHARLOTTE RUTHERFORD 


Sign ир. Год т. 
Cash out. Repeat. 
Why so many people 
are buying into 

free porn's biggest 


When Elsa Jean flounces into the studio in full hair and makeup, 
one has to wonder why she's here. Every moment she spends оп set, 
she's losing money. “Т make about $3o,ooo to $4o,ooo a month 
from my OnlyFans account,” says Jean (pictured), whose platinum 
blonde waves and wide eyes leave no question asto which animated 
phenomenon inspired her stage name. “Гуе cut my studio work 
way back because I really don't need to do it anymore. It takes me 
30 minutes to film something. On set, it takes hours.” 

Although only 23 years old, Jean is a five-year veteran of 
the adult business—a porn superstar (1.5 million Instagram 
followers and counting) and now a proselytizer for OnlyFans, 
a membership-based social platform that hosts the content 
of more than 100,000 creators for 
more than 8 million subscribers (or 
“fans”). Launched in 2016, Only- 
Fans, while not exclusively for adult 
performers, has disrupted the porn 
industry by making it easier for sex 
workers to generate income off their 
content, shifting them away from 
major studios for casting, produc- 
tion, distribution and payment. In- 
creasingly influential in a time when 


competitors consumer demand for amateur con- 
tent is trending up (videos filed in 
av LINA ABASCAL Pornhub's Amateur category boast 


the site's longest average view time: 

15 minutes, 25 seconds), subscrip- 

tion sites including OnlyFans, Fan- 
Centro and JustFor.Fans are grooming a new generation of 
self-made men and women. And many of them are adult per- 
formers working from home. 

Those subscription sites are just a few of the third-party plat- 
forms whose main services support sex workers striving for eco- 
nomic independence. Why spend time toiling for a suit when 
you can sell directly to your audience on your own schedule and 
your own terms? It's the remote-ification of porn. The poten- 
tial impact—and what's likely making some porn-tube giants 
anxious—is the antiquation of studio-produced adult enter- 
tainment. If sex workers can own their content outright while 
growing their audiences with the promise of on-demand, how 
can Pornhub, whose library largely comprises studio-based pro- 
ductions, refresh its offerings? Jean offers a vivid example to 
spell out the benefits of OnlyFans over free streaming: “I don't 
do anal unless it's on my OnlyFans or my Snapchat,” she says. 
“That's how I locked in my people.” 

Most sites” subscription models involve a monthly fee for ac- 
cess to exclusive images, videos and chat sessions that are typi- 
cally but not exclusively pornographic. Workout videos, product 
reviews presented by models in various states of undress and 
selfies of women applying makeup are also sold, based on the 
account. Content creators pay a fee, in the form of a percent- 
age, to use the platform. FanCentro, which operates on Snap- 
chat's platform but is unaffiliated with the Snap Inc.-owned app, 
takes 25 percent of subscription fees; in exchange it provides 
models with their own URLs, as well as a payment-collection 
service—important, given that PayPal, Venmo, Square, Cash 
App and nearly all other payment processors do not allow trans- 
actions for sex work or services. 

Professional porn stars have had their own websites since the 
advent of the internet, and Pornhub allows anyone to upload 
content to its ever-growing database. But just as musicians com- 


plain about Spotify's payouts, perform- 
ers view Pornhub's returns as poor: on 
average, 64 cents per 1,000 views. Jean 
doesn't even maintain a personal web- 
site; after talking to other actresses, she 
realized that “OnlyFans and Snapchat is 
where the money is." 
Across industries, new technologies are 
helping purveyors sell content to niche 
audiences. This is the strategy behind 
those sponsored posts for athleisure wear 
or mail-order meal prep interspersed 
among puppies and food porn on Insta- 
gram. But when it comes to adult con- 
tent, performers still have to operate in 
legal gray areas while taking advantage of 
always-plugged-in consumers' fondness for 
personalized subscription services (Net- 
flix, Trunk Club) and direct-to-consumer 
brands (Kylie Jenner's Lip Kits, Casper). 
Stephanie Michelle, a hentai-inspired 
performer, recently shifted her focus to 
OnlyFans from other platforms. There, 
she forfeits 20 percent of her earnings 
from her content, all of which sits behind 
a paywall. Daily, she posts 30-second to 
minute-long clips while chatting with 


PLAYBOY 


15 


\ 
Ц 
Li 
п 
H 
d 
y 
k 


her fans. Such engagement helps her 
know which content they like best. In 
turn, fans remain satisfied, paying cus- 
tomers longer. 

Even Pornhub's headliners are on 
OnlyFans, including Riley Reid, the Los 
Angeles-based porn star who recently 
tallied more than 1 billion views on 
Pornhub. In fact, she's on almost every 
third-party site so people can find her no 
matter where they're searching. “I mon- 
etize greater off myself by working for 
myself,” she says. “I think more girls are 
realizing that you can get more out of you 
selling your body online and owning your 
own content.” 

Reid doesn't want to miss an opportu- 
nity to sell content, and she doesn't. Peo- 
ple are consistently buying subscriptions 
and accessing video clips on networks 
she doesn't even promote. Her primary 
focuses are her FanCentro-operated 
Snapchat and her personal website, 
ReidMyLips.com, where she offers studio- 
level porn content for around $9.99 per 
video or monthly passes for $34.99. 

For those with less dedicated audi- 
ences, building a custom site can be more 
of a hassle than it's worth. Hoesha, an 
OnlyFans account owner in Arizona, 
tried to sell adult content on her own 
platform, with mixed results. Messaging 


fans individually was not too time-consuming; collecting pay- 
ment, however, became tricky once her original payment pro- 
cessor banned her after too many fans wrote explicit messages 
in their payment memos. She was also tired of fans haggling 
over price. 

“My rates are my rates. I can plainly say what I'm selling and 
be as explicit as I need to be with my subscribers,” she says of 
OnlyFans. The 20 percent cut frustrates her, but owning her 
content is a perk. “At the end of it all, it's all yours. You have the 
rights to your content, whereas with Snapchat or sending clips 
directly, you don't. If my content leaks, OnlyFans makes it way 
easier to track down the source." After less than half a year on 
the platform, Hoesha, whose offerings last year included a nude 
review of Popeyes viral chicken sandwich, has nearly enough 
subscribers to stay afloat without a day job. 

Danny Labito, an amateur gay fetish creator from Detroit, 
moved his fans from Pornhub's Modelhub, where his earnings 
were bleak, to OnlyFans. Occasionally some of his loyal Only- 
Fans viewers will message him for private commissions. He 
negotiates rates for custom content on Twitter, Instagram and 
e-mail, and his patrons pay him through PayPal or Cash App. 
Selling sexual content violates both these processors' terms, 
but he uses them anyway. "There aren't many other payment 
options for sex workers," he says. In his first three months, he 
made $7,000 from OnlyFans subscriptions and tips, supple- 
menting the full-time job he holds while he finishes college. 

For someone like Reid, managing content sales and subscrib- 
ers can become nearly impossible. It's one of the reasons she 
finally decided to partner with FanCentro—which promised 
to do “all the dirty work"—after years of offers to "join the pre- 
mium Snapchat bandwagon." 

Joiningthat bandwagon would mean manually adding and de- 

leting users from her accounts—arguably the most tedious part 
of using premium Snapchat. If someone cancels a subscription, 
access must be revoked manually or Reid risks sending content 
for free. For a sense of scale, Reid says she regularly hits Snap- 
chat's maximum of 5,000 followers per account and has to cre- 
ate sister accounts—all of which distribute the same content. 
The operation is so large that Reid has three smartphones solely 
so she doesn't have to log in and out on one device. 
As these third-party tools multiply, claiming they can help sex 
workers make up to $100,000 a month (the amount Reid says 
FanCentro estimates she could pull in), sex work is far from au- 
tonomous or fail-safe. Because FanCentro functions with Snap- 
chat but is not involved with Snap Inc., creators who violate the 
app's industry-typical terms by uploading “pornographic con- 
tent" can be banned. Jean's Snapchat has been deleted three 
times already. 

“I'm not sure what will happen when Snapchat catches up and 
everyone is removed, but as of now, I encourage all the girls, and 
myself, to milk it as much as possible," Reid says. 

I ask Jean if subscription sites can contribute to the normal- 
ization of sex work. “Even though not everyone will do it, every- 
one wants to do it,” she tells me. “When I get online, ГП see girls 
who aren't in the industry. They're Instagram models. Their 
followers sign up because they're like, “Гуе been wanting to see 
this girl naked.’ ” 

This doesn't make them porn stars, at least not according to 
Reid. “I don't think they understand what it's like to go to set 
and have sex with someone you've never met, where there's a 
guy over there with the boom,” she says. 


The truth is, with the options now available, they'll likely 
never have to. But cracking the surface of mainstream con- 
sciousness through OnlyFans and FanCentro doesn't always 
equate to mainstream acceptance. After all, SUBSCRIBE NOW 
buttons don't change laws or end discrimination. Not over- 
night. Not even over years. 

The trouble is that today, self-promotion on the internet—and 
with it, self-acceptance—is a necessity. To be successful on these 
so-called fan sites, visibility is required. Keeping your business 
a secret doesn't result in more sales. This means legions of sex 
workers are actively advertising their services on social media to 
millions, cashing in every day that they're not being shut down. 

For all their disruption, these sites have hardly progressed the 
sex workers' rights movement. “Sex work is work," as the rally- 
ing cry goes. They have, however, created opportunities for sex 
workers to build community and financial mobility in the age of 
FOSTA-SESTA, when basic online tools such as message boards 
have been shuttered in the government's attempt to end "sex 
trafficking." Amid the exodus from studios, the promised land 
remains what it's been for decades: validity, rights and respect 
across legal systems. 

As Reid argues, "It's such a normal thing for people to be sell- 
ing their bodies on the internet." 


PLAYBOY 


17 


How does it feel 

to bring a racist to 

life? Seven actors share 
the challenges and 
responsibilities of 
embodying hatred 


“Duke 
rebranded 
racism. He 

made it more 
palatable— 
that’s true evil. 


99 


18 FILM 


The Klan member. The bigoted politician. The slur-spouting athlete. A 
staple of cinematic evil, roles steeped in racism have never been a simple 
undertaking for the performers tasked with playing them. While audiences 
have always loved a good villain, the on-screen depiction of racism carries 
perhaps more weight today than in previous eras. After all, this is a time 
when President Donald Trump's vitriol is an accepted presence on Twitter 
feeds; when NPR publicly defends its labeling of that same president's 
rhetoric as racist; when we're just two years removed from the deadly white 
supremacist rally in Charlottesville, Virginia; and when mass shootings 
perpetrated on any given day instill persistent fear and anguish. Does art 
inform how we identify prejudice in our own lives, and do the stories we 
tell on-screen exacerbate or salve the pain? PLAvBov spoke with seven actors 
about their racist roles to examine how we represent hatred in art, the risks 
and nuances of understanding such mind-sets and the power in reflecting 
the current state of America.— David Dennis Jr. 


Торһег Сгасе 


Real-life ККК leader David Duke іп Spike Lee's 
2019 Oscar winner BlacKkKlansman 


On confronting Duke's charm: "Duke 
rebranded racism. He's very charming 

and disarming, so he made racism more 
palatable—that's true evil. The night before 

| went in to read for Spike, | was rehearsing 
alone, and | still couldn't say half the words. | 
told Spike, ‘I’m really uncomfortable speaking 
like this.' If you do that with the wrong 
director, and you don't pay it off the right 
мау, it's very dangerous to make someone 
look charismatic. But Duke's charisma is what 


makes him so powerful." 


Alan Tudyk 


Baseball manager Ben Chapman in 42, the 2013 


Jackie Robinson biopic 


On using the N word: "While rehearsing those 
words, | would get tears in my eyes, which 
wasn't good for the scene. So | would watch 
these violent street-fight videos, and Га get a 
knot in my stomach апа Га just get angry. And 
then | wouldn't cry anymore when | said the 


word. It was like | got dipped in hate." 


Catherine Kellner 


Fannie Taylor in John Singleton's 1997 movie 
Rosewood, based on a true story of a white 
woman who falsely accuses a black man of 
rape in the 1920s 


On the film's most intense scenes: “Га go 
into my trailer and breathe into a paper bag 
because | was so nervous. But the cast and 
John Singleton kept saying, 'Do it, because 
people need to know.' In scenes where | 

cry over and over, part of me honestly wept 
because of my own ignorance, because the 
subject matter was so real. But it became one 
of the best experiences of my life." 


William Sadler 


Detective Michael Sheehan in Ava DuVernay's 
2019 Emmy-winning Netflix miniseries When 
They See Us 


On Sheehan intimidating the Central Park 

Five into confessing: "During a scene with my 
co-star Asante Blackk, Ava DuVernay took me 
aside and said, “| want you to scare him.’ So | 
unleashed this character, and when | finished, 

І asked Asante, 'Are you okay?' and gave him а 
hug. I'm not comfortable playing those people, 
but the better | do it, the more impact the story 
has. It's more important than ever before that 


we tell stories like these." 


htn 


District attorney flack Jake Flanagan in 2006's 


best picture winner Crash 


On whether Flanagan's racial button-pushing 
makes him racist: "Under his breath, my 
character says, 'Fucking black people.' The 
point of the scene is about choices we make 
in life and how we can end up in uncool 
circumstances. | didn't look at him as just 
racially motivated, but | saw that piece of him 
when he pulled that card out." 


Garrett Hedlund 


Mike Burden in the 2020 film Burden, the 
real-life story of a Klansman who inherits a KKK 


memorabilia shop before finding redemption 


On filming in the ККК shop: “Аз the crew was 
setting up, a father and son were walking 
around. A crew member asked if they worked 
on set, and the father said, 'Hell no, we're 
shopping. About time a goddamn place like 
this opened up.’ That allowed us to see how 
real this is. It made our commitment to the 


project stronger." 


Burgess Jenkins 


Ray Budds, one of the villains in 2000's fact- 
based Remember the Titans 


On his approach to the persistently racist 
football star: “Тһе guy is angry and frustrated 
and feels betrayed, and everybody has felt 
angry, frustrated and betrayed. The key is to 
figure out the emotional value and connect 
to it, rather than judge them and say, 'Okay, 
this guy's a racist jerk.' Well, they don't see 
themselves as racist jerks." 


William Sadler channels 
Detective Sheehan in Ava 


DuVernay's four-part series 
about the Central Park Five. 


What would happen ` 
if the United States _ 
decrimin lized drug 
possession? А veteran 
drug- policy expert offers 


some trippy outcomes 


ev JAG DAVIES y A 


ЖА. >. 
2) 


The drug policies in this country аге preposterous. As long as 
people who use drugs are treated like criminals, mass crim- 
inalization and mass overdose deaths will remain two of the 
greatest ongoing tragedies in the United States. 

Accidental drug overdoses are the leading cause of death for 
Americans under the age of 50, exceeding fatalities from gun 
violence, car accidents, homicide and HIV/AIDS. According 
to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention's National 
Center for Health Statistics, more than 68,000 deadly drug 
overdoses occurred in the United States in 2018 alone. 

At the same time, U.S. law enforcement makes an arrest for 
drug possession every 25 seconds, adding up to well over 1 mil- 
lion arrests a year. It's the single most common reason for ar- 
rest in the country. These arrests do nothing to reduce the 
use of drugs; in fact, criminalization amplifies safety risks by 
pushing people who use drugs away from public health services. 

What if I told you that decriminalization of all drugs (yes, all 
drugs) could put an end to that? Under decriminalization, peo- 
ple who are caught using or possessing a small amount of drugs 
or are found with drug paraphernalia would no longer face 
criminal penalties, meaning any form of criminal punishment 
(including arrest, jail and imprisonment) would be abolished. 

This idea—to cease to treat drug possession as an unlawful 
offense—isn't as outlandish as it may seem. According to a poll 
conducted by the Cato Institute, 55 percent of Americans sup- 
port decriminalization. The leading governmental, medical, 
public health and civil rights groups—including the Ameri- 
can Civil Liberties Union and the Global Commission on Drug 


Policy, plus celebrity activists such as Richard 
Branson—have also supported decriminalization, 
arguing that drug-policy reformation would revo- 
lutionize how the U.S. handles use and addiction. 

Decriminalization has proven to be transfor- 
mative in other nations across the world. Numer- 
ous countries, including the Czech Republic, the 
Netherlands, Spain and, most notably, Portugal, 
have had remarkable success with it. 

The Portuguese regime, established by António 
Salazar in 1932, closed the country off from the 
rest of the world for 40 years. When the suppres- 
sive rule abruptly ended in 1974, in came Ше drugs 
the country had barely experienced before. By the 
19908, опе in 100 people in Portugal was addicted 
to heroin, and the country's rate of HIV infection 
had hit the highest in the European Union. But 
since 2001, when Portugal became the first coun- 
try to decriminalize all drugs, the number of peo- 
ple voluntarily entering treatment has increased 
significantly as rates of addiction and adolescent 
drug use have fallen. From 2000 to 2015, HIV in- 
fections in Portugal plummeted from 104.2 new 
cases per million to 4.2 cases per million. 

Given decriminalization's successful track re- 
cord, senior levels of government are attempting 
to pave the way for it in an array of countries, in- 
cluding Canada, Ghana, Ireland, Malaysia, Mex- 
ico, Norway and Scotland. Still, only a handful of 
0.5. policy makers have embraced the idea. 

Some progress has been made in reforming the 
war on drugs in the United States—but mostly by cities and 
states, not by the federal government. Alaska, California, Col- 
orado, Connecticut, Oklahoma, Oregon and Utah have reduced 
drug possession from a felony to a misdemeanor. Dozens of cit- 
ies around the country have instituted pre-arrest diversion 
programs, such as Law Enforcement Assisted Diversion. “011 
Good Samaritan" laws, some of which limit criminalization at 
the scene of an overdose for witnesses who call for emergency 
medical assistance, have been adopted in all 50 states. 

Progress has also been made toward cannabis legaliza- 
tion in all 50 states, giving hope that once-unthinkable drug 
reforms can happen with positive results. Since Colorado, 
Washington, Alaska, Oregon, Washington, D.C., California, 
Massachusetts, Maine, Nevada, Michigan, Illinois and Ver- 
mont approved measures to legalize cannabis, states have 
saved millions and are allocating the dollars earned from 
cannabis taxes to civil sectors. In Colorado, for instance, 
$225 million in tax revenue was distributed to the Colorado 
Department of Education from 2015 to 2018. A study pub- 
lished in the journal Economic Inquiry shows compelling evi- 
dence that opioid-overdose deaths in states that have legalized 
recreational cannabis drop by 20 to 35 percent. 

The national debate around cannabis has evolved from 
whether the remaining states should legalize it to how they 
should legalize it. But even though a 2018 Rasmussen Reports 
survey found that only nine percent of likely U.S. voters deem the 
war on drugs a success—and despite positive case studies rang- 
ing from Portugal's decriminalization to cannabis legalization 
stateside—the Trump administration is making moves to ramp 


up Ше drug war. This marks а shift away from modest Obama- 
era reforms that slowed the growth of mass incarceration. 
Trump and his ilk have weaponized the overdose crisis in an at- 
tempt to demonize immigrants and people of color—even call- 
ing for the death penalty for people who sell drugs. 

U.S. voters may soon decide on drug decriminalization for 
the first time: In September 2019, activists in Oregon filed 
Petition 2020-044, which will likely come to a vote in No- 
vember 2020. If passed, it will decriminalize simple posses- 
sion and refer offenders to a range of voluntary services such 
as evidence-based treatment, harm-reduction programs and 
housing services. The savings on law enforcement—as well as 
the revenue from cannabis taxes —would fund these programs. 

Some Democratic presidential candidates, such as Bernie 
Sanders, include far-reaching drug-policy reforms in their 
platforms. “We are going to end the international embarrass- 
ment of having more people in jail than any other country on 
earth. Instead of spending $80 billion a year on jails and in- 
carceration, we are going to invest in jobs and education for 
our young people,” Sanders promises on his campaign website. 
Yet as of press time no 2020 presidential candidate has made 
a full-throated endorsement of ending arrests for drug posses- 
sion and implementing Portugal-style decriminalization. 

So what would the United States look like if we stopped treating 
drug users as criminals? Mass incarceration and mass crim- 
inalization—which are major drivers of economic inequal- 
ity, health disparities and systemic racism—would decrease 
significantly. The criminalization that targets lower-income 


communities would slowly wither, afford- 
ing those affected an opportunity to support 
themselves and their families. 

We would no longer fear years like 2018, 
when law enforcement arrested about 
1.43 million people for possessing small 
amounts of drugs for personal use. The 
American Civil Liberties Union and Human 
Rights Watch could work on releasing the 
137,000 people they estimate are behind 
bars in U.S. prisons and jails on any given 
day for drug possession—many of them 
being held pre-trial because they can't af- 
ford to post bail. Thousands more currently 
locked up for failing drug tests as a condition 
of probation or parole could start working to- 
ward their freedom. 

Black people, who represent 13 percent of 
the U.S. population and use drugs at simi- 
lar rates as other groups, would no longer ac- 
count for 29 percent of people arrested for 
drug-law violations and 33 percent of people 
incarcerated in state prisons for drug posses- 
sion. Law enforcement would be able to divert 
resources to serious public safety concerns— 
such as the 67 percent of reported rapes that 
went uncleared in 2018 and the thousands of 
rape kits that went unprocessed. 

If mass drug-possession arrests stop in 
the U.S., the thousands of people currently 
deported every year for possessing any 
amount of drugs would no longer fear losing their homes. Per- 
manent residents—many of whom have been in the U.S. for de- 
cades and have jobs and families—would no longer live with 
the anxiety caused by the automatic detention and deporta- 
tion, often without the possibility of return, for being caught 
with any amount of any drug. 

One may hypothesize that fewer drug-possession arrests 
would mean more crime on the streets, but the Pew Charitable 
Trusts reported in 2017 that there is “по relationship between 
drug imprisonment and drug problems,” because under de- 
criminalization, people would still be arrested for committing 
crimes under the influence of drugs. Decriminalization would 
only mean that police could no longer waste taxpayer dollars 
arresting people for possession. 

Decriminalization also makes it easier to ramp up health 
and harm-reduction services that are known to drastically re- 
duce addiction, overdose deaths and new hepatitis C and HIV 
infections. Evidence-based drug treatment could more easily 
be offered to anyone who wants it. For those who continue to 
use drugs, services to reduce potential harm—such as screen- 
ing unregulated drugs for adulterants, community-based 
naloxone distribution, syringe-access programs, supervised 
consumption sites and other long-proven approaches—could 
also be made more widely available. 

All the pieces are in place for drug decriminalization to take 
effect in the U.S. Now we just have to demand that our leaders 
act. To truly end the war on drugs and avoid new public health 
crises, we need to accept that criminalizing possession offers 
no solutions or hope for real cultural transformation. 


PLAYBOY 23 


Тһе тап behind the P 
mask has a voice of | 
gold and nothing to 
hide. What will it take 
for a hidebound genre 
to embrace the new 


cowboy in town? 
A ` 
ву MARISSA В. М055 


Man in His Domain 


ad 
k: 


PHOTOGRAPHY BY ALYSSE GAFKJEN 


The aptly named “party switch” featured in every room at the 
Dive Motel in Nashville has four options: SEX, DRUGS, ROCK & ROLL 
and SLEEP. Orville Peck, in a pair of horse-print tighty-whities, is 
boogying to the SEX station, which blasts 1970s R&B while a rotat- 
ing disco ball shimmers in sparkly pink hues overhead. The lack 
of a television, plus the bright geometric wallpaper and deep shag 
carpeting, signals that this renovated roadside inn isn't the kind 
of place you visit for a family-friendly good time. But on this sweaty 
Tennessee afternoon the only thing splayed across the bed sheets 
is Peck's collection of handmade lace-up masks. Gold fringe, long 
red fringe, short cream fringe, mid-length pink fringe. Fringe 
galore, yee-haw, amen. 

Peck fastens on one of his masks—which he hopes never to be seen 
in public without— pairing it with an embroidered Nudie-style suit. 
Someone suggests we crank up the party switch to DRUGS, which fea- 
tures trippy lights and sounds by hip-hop forefather Grandmaster 
Flash. The country artist is pleased, mostly with his outfit. 

^I do like the Porter Wagoner look," Peck says, referring to the 
1960s twangy crooner who made sparkly, chain-stitched getups part 
of his signature look. Wagoner, however—at least as far as we know— 
never cracked a whip while listening to “White Lines." The musician 
moves to another bedroom, this one featuring side-by-side bathtubs 
and more shag, to snap additional photos. He stands on a bed and 
gives a hearty crack to a long, vintage-leather lasso. 

“Ги good with a whip,” the superhero-like figure announces, an 
innuendo that would no doubt cause fidgeting across town on Music 
Row, the epicenter of Nashville's commercial country-music indus- 
try. While fluid sexuality has long been embraced in pop music, 
the naughtiest images to ship out of this town tend toward a tight- 
pantsed Luke Bryan singing about “knockin’ boots.” For someone 
like Peck, who is openly gay, a career in mainstream country has al- 
most always been out of reach. Just seven years ago, in 2013, coun- 
try radio penalized Kacey Musgraves for alluding to kissing girls 
on “Follow Your Arrow"; the song never charted higher than 43 on 
Billboard's Country Airplay chart despite being named song of the 
year at the 2014 Country Music Association Awards. The genre, con- 
ventional wisdom would like you to believe, is conservative, and 
the only viable path for an aspiring artist who happens to embrace 
gayness is country-adjacent. But times are changing. Nashville is 
starting to demand a party switch. 

"See," Peck says, flicking the whip in an impressive wave motion 
with a controlled snap of the wrist, all cowboy confident, “I told y'all." 

Peck, who put out his debut LP, Pony, on Sub Pop in March, sings 
about relationships with men because that's who he is, not because 
he has an agenda. The sexiness in his songs comes more from a 
sonic palette that sometimes sounds like Chris Isaak than from 
character-playing. Much has been murmured about Peck's sexual- 
ity and his "subversive" role in country; almost as much has been 
made of his masked anonymity. All three aspects are captivating, 
for sure, but they represent a fraction of the whole: Peck speaks 
about being a gay man in country music not to spur a revolution but 
to find a role for folks like him in a genre that, historically, hasn't 


PLAYBOY 25 


been welcoming. If anything, һе 
ditionalist at heart. Dolly Ра ой and 
Wagoner are his North Stars in a cos- 
mos that also includes Merle Haggard. 
And no, Orville Peck isn't his real name, 
but no one makes a stink about Eilleen 
Regina Edwards, the woman we know las 
Shania Twain. | 

His photo shoot done, Peck, пом jin 
a T-shirt on the hotel patio, smokes а 
cigarette through his fringe, whic 
parted down the middle like a set of 
tains. "I'm not setting out to be an insti- 
gator," he says. “In fact, my songwriting 
is probably more in line with traditional 
country than a lot of country now.” 

He's not wrong: Peck's songs don'tfim- 
itate Haggard's per se, but neithef do 
those of the subgenre that includes Bam 
Hunt and Florida Georgia Line eroohing 
about women, pickup trucks and beer. 
When compared toe-to-toe with the bro- 
country groups that dominate popular 
radio, Peck is no more indie rock than 


26 


they are hip-hop. But a fear lingers that queer singers like Peck are 
trying to warp country into another liberal bastion. Peck doesn't 
see itas a changing of the guard so much as an opportunity to be a 
part of what's been built. 

Country's queens—Parton, in particular—were Peck's inspira- 
tion and role models, but he soon realized the genre as a whole wasn't 
ready to invite him in; it's an experience that's relatable for many 
people whose stories have been excluded from the country canon. It's 
not that people of color or queer people haven't had a role in Nash- 

Ы ville's understructure; it's that their impacts һауе been diminished 
and muted. This isn't entirely the fault of country music itself. As 
Nadine Hubbs discusses іп Rednecks, Queers, and Country Music, 
classism has resulted in the dismissal of country аз the province of 
unsophisticated hillbillies. 


they're signaling not just personal taste but economic background 
and political affinity. Classifying country music as the antithesis of 
sophistication promotes the idea that it can't be appreciated by any- 
one who lacks white skin and a blue collar. 

"I think the stigma that country music is made by a certain type 
of person, and is only for a certain type of person, is something per- 
petuated by big-wig old white men who run record labels and feel 
like that's how they can keep in control,” says Peck, stubbing out 
his cigarette. “But look at Willie Nelson. That guy's a weed-smoking 
gay-rights activist." 


he problem 
is less about 
| omeplhobia. 
5 a chauvinist 
обет.” 


PLAYBOY 27 


<. 


— 


Pará JU 0 анаа. 


eE 


о Te wd 


Тһе issue of otherness іп country is 
further highlighted in the case of Lil Nas 
X, who came out as gay following the suc- 
cess of his 2019 hit, “Old Town Road.” 
After he was nominated for a Coun- 
try Music Association Award (for musi- 
cal event of the year), a flood of national 
headlines erroneously declared him the 
first openly gay person to snag such an 
honor. In the past decade, openly gay art- 
ists Shane McAnally and Brandy Clark 
have been recognized by the CMAs. The 
media's lazy assumption speaks to the 
view of country as a “hillbilly” home 
where there can't possibly be space for 
queer folks, resulting in erasure by ac- 
cident. Country's gay community hasn't 
always been heard, but it is rich, and crit- 
ics often confuse the Music Row machine 
and country radio—where queer voices 
are indeed silenced—with the music 
makers themselves. 

As the world considers more inter- 
pretations of sexuality and gender, and 
country music becomes a global com- 
modity that needs to react to those 
trends, there's space in the expanding 
universe for a star like Peck. ^Whether 
they even recognize the reasoning, I 
think a lot of gay people feel detached 
from country music," he says. ^But mar- 
ginalized people of any kind have to 
bushwhack and blaze our own trails а lot 
of the time. Those paths aren't there for 
us, and it's usually in the face of a lot of 
adversity or alot of judgment." 

It's а complicated balance to recog- 
nize the role queer people have played 
in country music and also acknowledge 
how they've been curbed. Peck knows 
this history well, from Lavender Coun- 
try, the band credited with releasing the 
first gay country album in 1973 (Peck 
has sung with them), to Willie Nelson's 
2006 version of the cowboy-lovin' an- 
them “Cowboys Are Frequently, Se- 
cretly Fond of Each Other" (Peck has 
covered it). His mask is reminiscent of 
Jimmy "Orion" Ellis, a 1970s and 1980s 
country singer with Presleyan vocals 
and an affinity for obscuring his face. 
Peck's masks are more SM than bedaz- 
zling like Ellis's, but a mask nonetheless 
signifies a love of showmanship. 

^My introduction to country music was 
Dolly Parton whenI was a kid, and I didn't 
know she was a real person," Peck says. 


^I thought she was like Elvira or something, because she was this 
larger-than-life character. That's the country music I love. People al- 
ways think I'm playing a character, but that's not it at all. It's about a 
super-heightened version of yourself to tell the story better, which is 
what Dolly does. She wears wigs—she's a drag queen, basically—but 
she sings these sincere, heartbreaking songs, and it's all very genu- 
ine. That's kind of what I try to do." 

Although Peck maintains his mysterious persona, he hasn't made 
up a past that doesn't exist. He's an entertainer, not a myth. Peck 
grew up all over, with a father who was a sound engineer for glam- 
rock bands including Suzi Quatro and a mother who valued cre- 
ativity; he has two brothers. A trained ballet dancer and singer 
obsessed with David Bowie and cowboys, Peck had started perform- 
ing by the age of 10. He taught himself to play guitar, performed in 
punk bands and studied the art of mask-making before recording 
Pony on Gabriola Island in British Columbia. 

"I think most people want to discount me as a hipster who's dip- 
ping my toe into this yee-haw agenda," Peck says. “But the reality 
is, this has been me for a long time. This has been a dream of mine 
my whole life." 

His country dream is coming to fruition at a time when change is 
increasingly unavoidable, at least in terms of integrating queer voices 
and supporting LGBTQ people. Miranda Lambert dedicated her song 
“АП Kinds of Kinds" to WorldPride 2019, which she attended in New 
York City; Carrie Underwood's "Love Wins" hints apolitically at 
equality; and Maren Morris is a fierce and outspoken advocate, as 
are Musgraves and Margo Price. Nashville is also evolving: Its music 
community rallied fast and hard when former Arkansas governor 
and vocal homophobe Mike Huckabee joined the CMA Foundation's 
board in 2018. He resigned in less than 24 hours. 

Newer artists like Brandon Stansell are leaning in to main- 
stream careers as queer people, following in the path of Ty Herndon 
and Chely Wright, who both came out years after their debuts but 
whose careers never benefited from their truths. On the indie end, 
acts such as Karen & the Sorrows, Trixie Mattel and Little Bandit 
are breaching the genre to make it more inclusive. Brandi СатШе, 
a queer artist and 2019 Grammy nominee for album of the year, is 
doubling down on her commitment to the genre, producing country 
records, singing duets with Dierks Bentley and forming the female 
supergroup the Highwomen. 

“She's really changing the narrative," says Peck, who sees а link 
between how country music has historically sidelined women and 
how it currently treats the queer community. “I feel like the prob- 
lem is less about homophobia. It's a chauvinist problem," he says. 
“Female musicians go through this all Ше time. The gatekeepers 
of country, as is the way with everything on this planet, tend to be 
conservative, straight white men. I think that's kind of ending. I 
really do believe it." 

Peck has dreams too: of performing at the CMA Awards, singing 
at Nelson's ranch and, of course, appearing at the Grand Ole Opry. 
He thinks they'll all come true, because despite the mask, he has 
never been less hidden in his life. 

^I genuinely feel like I'm on a horse riding into the sunset, on my 
own terms," he says before disappearing into the hotel room with his 
bed of masks. There's a cowboy battle raging in Nashville, and Peck 
has been practicing with his whip. El 


PLAYBOY 29 


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With the release of 
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32 CULTURE 


Lindy West is sitting in a 


hit show, writer Lindy director's chair—so big, 


she says, it's “almost a 


West finds herself ЕСТУ тури Ея 
аға crossroads—what 
Һаррепѕ when an inordinate number of 


land, Oregon warehouse 
filled with cameras and 


crew members with han- 


you don't have to be dlebar mustaches. As she 
shrill anymore? 


glances up at Ше moni- 
tors, watching actors re- 
peat lines she helped 


ey ERIC SPITZNAGEL write, she reflects on her 


hypothetical death. 
“I was exhausted, but 
I felt proud of myself,” she says of a re- 
cent six-mile mountain hike across often 
treacherous terrain. As she was travers- 
ing a high, narrow trail, she crossed paths 
with three other hikers, all young and fit. 
^I had this realization that if one of 
them accidentally bumped me off the 
trail and I tumbled down this ravine, 
and if someone caught it on video, peo- 
ple would think it was funny," she says. 
“It wouldn't be “Woman Tragically Plum- 
mets to Her Death.' It would be Look at 
the Fatty Roll.’ ” 

It's hard to know whether to laugh or 
nod grimly when West shares stories like 
this. The 37-year-old writer and producer 
has made a career of this balancing act, 
pointing out injustice while also being 
one of the most uproarious social critics 
of her generation. 

Dressed in a Queen T-shirt knotted 
at the belly and a form-fitting leopard- 
skin skirt, West exudes fabulousness 
with just a hint of I’m not entirely sure 
about this. She's also exhausted. They're 
in the final weeks of shooting the second 


season of Shrill, a series inspired by her 
best-selling essay collection of the same 
name. (The show returns to Hulu in Janu- 
ary.) The first season was beloved by both 
critics and viewers, and the show was 
promptly renewed. The pressure is on to 
keep the bar high. 

“It feels like a lot more responsibility," 
she says, keeping an eye on a scene in 
which Aidy Bryant, the Saturday Night 
Live regular and Shrill's lead, gets into a 
heated exchange with her fictional boy- 
friend. "I'm glad I wasn't given this kind 
of long leash when I was 23. I probably 
would've made something really bad." 

Over the course of the day, West men- 
tions severaltimes that for most of her ca- 
reer it was just her on a couch, wrestling 
words out of her head in an otherwise 
empty apartment. Now she's sitting in a 
crowded soundstage where "there are al- 
ways a million moving parts and a million 
things to do. Sometimes it’s a last-minute 
zhuzhing of the script, and sometimes it’s 
the props department needing me to sign 
off on some tiny detail that viewers prob- 
ably won’t even notice.” 

Shrill the TV show follows Annie 
Easton, a character loosely based on 
West. While the similarities between 
the two are hard to miss—both Easton 
and West are writers living in the Pacific 
Northwest who champion fat-positivity 
and get hounded by trolls, oblivious pass- 
ersby and many others—the fictional 
counterpart has a long way to go before 
she reaches present-day Lindy-ness. 

“She doesn’t seem like a character 
who'd be like, ‘Yes, I'm a witch and I'm 
hunting you, ” West says, referring to her 
recent book of essays, The Witches Are 


ILLUSTRATION BY EWELINA DYMEK 


аа 


E Че А,‏ ری 
Ар t a дали к => — +.‏ << . 


34 CULTURE 


Coming. (The title is from her 2017 New 
York Times op-ed about #МеТоо blow- 
back and men bemoaning “witch hunts” 
despite “millenniums of treating women 
like prey.”) Of the character's develop- 
ment she adds, “I think we're going to 
move in that direction slowly. It's her 
journey toward becoming shrill, or learn- 
ing how to own that.” 

West is long past learning how to 
embrace her inner shrill. She practi- 
cally owns the word now. She built a ca- 
reer as an outsider critic and satirist of 


LL WATCH А 
SCene AND BE 

LIKE, “AW, AIDY IS 
THE prettiest 
LEADING LADY | 
EVER SAW.” 


misogynist culture, but she's no longer an 
outsider; she's a best-selling author and a 
writer and executive producer on a hugely 
successful TV show. 

The subtitle for her first book is Notes 
From a Loud Woman. But she doesn't need 
to be loud anymore. Everyone is listening. 

Which isn't to say she shouldn't be 
loud. The rules change, however, when 
the world has stopped shushing you, 
when outlets like The Guardian and The 
New York Times are lining up to offer you 
regular columns and Elizabeth Banks 
wants to produce a TV show with you. 
Being loud is a weapon of the ignored 
and disenfranchised (and, of course, of 
angry mobs with digital pitchforks), not 
so much somebody who has the spotlight 
and a captive audience. 

“I was so desperate to make people 
laugh," West says of her younger self. 
“I was afraid to be sincere, because it's 
vulnerable." 

It makes you wonder what, if anything, 
she's scared of now. 

“You think?” 

West wrinkles her nose, not sure if she 

wants to take a compliment. We're in 


Portland's Pearl District, on a break from the Shrill shoot, and 
talking about her new book—in particular her essay about the 
late comedian Joan Rivers that I keep insisting is brilliant. West 
isn't so sure. 

"I was worried it was dumb,” she says. “I was worried that I was 
unfairly picking on her." 

I contend that it's a careful meditation on a woman largely 
considered a pioneer in comedy. Uncertainty looms over every 
sentence as West contemplates an icon stuck in a rigged sys- 
tem. "Instead of fighting for us lost, last girls," she writes, "she 
turned around and gave worse than she got." 

It's a far cry from the West of a decade ago. In 2010, when she 
was a relative unknown writing for the Seattle alt-weekly The 
Stranger, her caustic reviews of movies such as Sex and the 
City 2 went viral thanks to snarky but hilarious observations 
like ^What is the lubrication level of Samantha Jones's 52-year- 
old vagina?" 

West can barely stand to reflect on that early incarnation. “1 
didn't know anything," she says. ^I just wanted to be funny. And 
I was so mean. Some of the stuff that I wrote about people's work, 
I would die—I would die if someone wrote that about me." 

She settled into a more confident voice at the self-proclaimed 
"supposedly feminist website" Jezebel in 2012, where she wrote 
some of her most challenging and controversial essays on sex- 
ism, bigotry and body shaming. She could still be ruthlessly 
funny, but the stakes were higher, and she was learning how to 
be more nuanced. 

“бо much of Lindy's writing revolves around issues that 
aren't black or white," says Jessica Coen, editor in chief at 
Jezebel during West's tenure. “They can't be distilled down to a 
single hot take." Many of the topics she writes about (abortion, 
fat-phobia) don't seem like they'd be entertaining, Coen says, 
but West always pulls it off because "she writes with so much 
energy and wit, so while the topic itself might not be a delight, 
reading her always is." 

Comedian Patti Harrison, who has a recurring role on 
Shrill, was affected by West long before she joined the cast. 
She recalls watching West debate the topic of rape jokes with 
comedian Jim Norton on Totally Biased in 2013. West argued 
that “you don't get to say that comedy is this sacred, power- 
ful, vital thing that we have to protect because it's speaking 
truth to power blah, blah, blah, and then also be like, *Well, it's 
just a joke—I mean, language doesn't affect our lives at all, so 
shut up! " For Harrison, it had a seismic effect on how she ap- 
proached comedy. 

"I was doing improv in college at the time, and I believed noth- 
ing should be off limits," she says. “But Lindy was so funny апа 
so smart. I wanted to be provocative, and I thought you should be 
able to say anything, but she shifted my thinking." 

When Shrill became a TV show, West was given a chance to 
shift people's thinking on a larger scale. She went from com- 
menting on pop culture to being a part of pop culture. But is 
Shrill changing minds en masse? Oris it just a dot on a TV land- 
scape that idealizes tiny bodies and isn't about to change because 
of one norm-busting heroine? 

Martha Plimpton, who became friends with West long before 
she co-founded the #ShoutYourAbortion social media campaign 
in 2015 with fellow Seattleite Amelia Bonow, says she under- 
stands the tug-of-war between idealism and making a commer- 
cial product. 

*You can't overhaul the whole fucking system by sheer will 
alone," she says. "I'm still figuring it out myself. There are 


Aidy Bryant, who plays 
West's Shrill alter ego, 
shoots a scene on the 

streets of Portland for the 
shows first season. 


parameters that've been set up that you have absolutely zero 
power to change. You want your producing and activist sides to 
intersect as much as possible, but you also can't torture yourself 
over what you can't do.” 

West, however, is optimistic that Shrill can make an impact. 
“І can feel it affecting me, and I made it,” she says. “ГП watch 
a scene and be like, “Aw, Aidy is the prettiest leading lady I ever 
saw.” I'm not like, “Who is this fat woman?’ Once you start nor- 
malizingitin your brain, Ithink the process happens really fast.” 

By way of comparison, she recalls a cultural norm whose evo- 
lution she witnessed in her early 20s. “The thing that keeps me 
going, and I don't know why I always return to this when I'm feel- 
ing stressed, is the smoking ban," she says. “It seemed unfath- 
omable that you could get people to stop smoking. But then they 
made a rule, and now it's unfathomable that bars ever allowed 
smoking. You can create a new normal, and people who are oth- 
erwise resistant will get used to it. You forget what life was like 
before, you know?" 

West still gets hate mail. Just the other day, she tells me over din- 
ner, she received a message from a man who wrote, "You're stu- 
pid and I heard you wrote a stupid book and I hope it tanks." 

uf „long gone are the days when she would get daily death 


says ofthe “witches” title of her new book. 

Her next thought reminds me that, ear- 
lier that day, we had spoken of the fears 
that plagued her as an emerging writer. 

“There's power in this label that people 
are putting on you, and we can assume that 
power,” she says. “They're scared ofus.” 
West is vague when discussing what's 
next for her. More books are likely, and 
she'll stay with Shrill for as long as there's 
an audience. But she has ambitions that 
are less about the next career move than, 
say, exploration. 

“Tve always had the unspoken thought 
in my head that I can't go to Japan be- 
cause I'm too fat," she says. "Id just 
Godzilla the whole place, knock every- 
thing over and break all the chairs. But 
that's crazy. It's a regular-size country." 

She'd also like to try downhill skiing or 
scuba diving, two things that terrify her. 
But her real dream — 

“Неге,” she says, pulling out her phone. 
“ГІ show you.” 

As she scrolls through Instagram, she 
tells me about her friend Jenny, who 
has recently taken up horseback riding. 
“Jenny told me to follow this Instagram 
page called African Horse Safaris. It's 
a real service, and you're basically on a 
horse that's galloping across the savanna." 

She hands me her phone and points to a 
video. A saddle-cam captures a horseback 
rider chasing a tower of giraffes some- 
where in Tanzania. 

"Are you kidding me?" she says, laugh- 
ing. "That's not CGI, that's real!" 

Does she actually want to go to Africa 
and ride horses amid the roaring wild- 
life? “I don't know. But it's made me 
wonder: Is there a reason I couldn't do 
it? I'd have to learn how to ride a horse. 
It'd have to be a big horse. But horses are 


| 1 
Eo МЕ d rape threats. It's no coincidence that she left Twitter in 


м strong, whatever.” 
( 
^ ү nuary 2017. 


She keeps flipping through photos and 


s 
16 


j M. 


= 


Ч West insists it wasm't the trolls alone that drove her off the 


platform, but she's glad that dealing with them is no longer a сеп- 


tral part of her job description. 
“Why are you entitled to engage with me?” she says of 
the armies of men who insisted on attacking her—usually 


94 


X anonymously—online. “This is the stuff that started to drive me 


crazy.” Every time she hit back at the barrage of toxic masculin- 
ity, it felt “bad for my mental health,” she says. “I already feel 
like I have psychological effects from that time of my life when 
Т had to seem impervious to pain. It's not good for you.” And, she 
adds, “it's not good for your brain to Бе numb to that." 
Eventually West let go—not just of Twitter but of the idea that 
trolls can be reasoned with, or that there's value in proving how 
much abuse you can endure. Through the Twitter breach, she 
emerged as a woman who's more focused, more equipped to fuck 
up the patriarchy. “Hopefully it's a little bit of a rallying cry,” she 


videos. "I'm sure it's probably scary. But 
maybe that's why I need to do it." 

In a weird way, it seems like the perfect 
next adventure for Lindy West. This is a 
woman whose entire life has been about 
doing things that are scary and that the 
rest of the world told her she couldn't or 
shouldn't be doing. Is there any differ- 
ence between shouting about your abor- 
tion or feeling proud of your body or 
pushing back against rape humor and 
riding a horse at top speed across an Af- 
rican savanna? 

West smiles, still transfixed by the im- 
ages of galloping horses on her phone. “1 
guess we'll find out." 


PLAYBOY 35 


ARTWORK ВУ ALPHACHANNELING 


PLAYBOY 


DAVUSXO, 


Shan Boodram, clinical sexologist, YouTube star and author of 
The Game of Desire, taps her followers and offers unflaggingly 
positive advice to a woman who can't stop thinking about 
sex, a guy who can't get women to like him and others whose 


Q: Is it normal to think about sex 24/7? 
I'm a 28-year-old woman who just 
got her master's degree and is play- 
ing the field while praying for a future 
partner—and I honestly feel that I'm ad- 
dicted to sex. It just naturally seeps into 
my thoughts no matter what Гт doing, 
even at the most inappropriate times. 
When I envision my future partner, he's 
just as much of a freak as I am! Are there 
other men and women out there who feel 
the same things?—T.G., Bangor, Maine 

A: We are all so much alike! The details 
may vary, but the root questions are 
pretty much the same: Am I normal? Am 
I worthy of being loved? Based on what 
you describe, the answer to both those 
questions is “Hell yes!" But if you're wor- 
ried about your relationship with sex, 
ask yourself these questions: Is my sex 
drive in conflict with local laws? Has 
my sex drive blatantly impeded my prog- 
ress in other areas of life? Is my sex drive 
often a point of moral contention in my 
relationships? If you answered yes to any 
of these, it might be a good idea to speak 
to a licensed professional—not because 
you're an addict per se but because bal- 
ance isn't easy. If you answered no to 
all three, and you find that sex is by and 
large a joyful part of your life, just know 
that I've never met a single human being 
who claimed their sex life, libido, de- 
sires, opinions or beliefs were perfect. 
We are all trying to find love, make con- 
nections, grow, have some orgasms and 
make peace with ourselves (in no par- 
ticular order). That said, there is abso- 
lutely a partner out there for you who can 
match your physical drive and meet your 


dilemmas may just be your own 


emotional qualifications; you just have 
to be intentional in finding him. As a 
woman who just completed her master's, 
you already get the formula: Know who 
you are, know where you fit best and im- 
merse yourself in that community so you 
can align with like minds in the areas 
that matter to you the most. 


Q: Гта man in his 30s and have been 
in a relationship with someone І deeply 
love for two years. I recently met an- 
other woman who's cool and works in the 
same industry as I do. We got together 
for coffee a couple of weeks after meet- 
ing, and we've been texting ever since— 
maybe it's just friendly, maybe it's a 
little bit flirty. I still haven't told her I 
have a girlfriend, and it's starting to 
feel weird. On one hand, I don't want to 
assume she likes me *that way." On the 
other, I feel I'm being dishonest with 
her and especially with my girlfriend. 
Where do I go from here?—S.P., Arling- 
ton Heights, Illinois 

A: First, know that scenarios like this 
will come up on both sides. I highly en- 
courage you to discuss it with your 
partner, because at the end of the day, 
having a second person to navigate the 
complexities of life with is the joy of 
being in a relationship! Why is it that 
in romantic connections we accept that 
we have to share the undersides of our 
humanity (poop horror stories, credit 
drama, morning breath and all), but 
when it comes to our natural drive to 
desire and be desired by others, we all 
want our partners to believe we're su- 
perhuman? Well, as it turns out, you're 


not made of steel—so don't be afraid to 
admit that to your girlfriend and ask 
for guidance on how to manage both the 
situation and your feelings. As for the 
other woman, you already know the an- 
swer to this: Yeah, you should bring it 
up, but I also think your senses are cor- 
rect. Instead of making it a cautionary 
statement, look for a casual way to in- 
sert it into the conversation. 


Q: I recently started dating a person 
who's transitioning and has bottom 
dysmorphia. They were born with fe- 
male parts, and as a female I thought I 
would be able to better figure out their 
body, but it’s daunting right now because 
they feel weird about their genitals, 
and I don't know how to navigate. How 
can I get to know my partner and their 
body in a way that will make us both feel 
comfortable?—J.M., Miami, Florida 

A: Congrats to your partner for making 
such an important decision, and also 
congrats to the two of you on your new 
connection. I'm going to remind you 
of something I'm certain you already 
know: Change is not easy, and it abso- 
lutely is not instant! Your partner may 
have spent 20-plus years feeling uncom- 
fortable in their body or getting mes- 
sages about their genitals that never 
aligned with their feelings—and as pow- 
erful as the decision to take ownership 
over their truth through transitioning 
is, it does not magically erase all those 
damaging, dysmorphic years. If it took 
them two decades to make the decision 
to change, they're allowed to take at 
least a third of that time to heal from the 


PLAYBOY 3/ 


The woman who has never had an 
orgasm or masturbated has likely 
not found her middle, because no 
one has ever invited her there. 


dissonance they were surely feeling all 
that time. The good news is that though 
change isn't instant, if nurtured, it can 
be gradual. Through patience, positive 
affirmation and lots of communication, 
you should see an improvement in their 
attitude toward themselves, which will 
result in a better connection in the bed- 
room. Just remember that you should 
not expect a 180. Allow them to take the 
lead as much as possible. If you need a 
nudge, watch porn that turns both of 
you on and use it as a tool to discuss what 
you're comfortable and not comfortable 
exploring together. 


Q: My girlfriend and I (a man) have been 
together for three years, and I love her 
immensely, but due to a lack of activity, 
our sex life is not that great. She works 
as an exotic dancer, and I think this af- 
fects her views on sexual intimacy. When 
Itry to talk about it with her, she mainly 
tells me what I want to hear or avoids the 
question altogether. I would like to break 
down that barrier and get her to be more 
open. I know this will be difficult because 
of the industry she works in—and I have 
chosen to accept that aspect—so how 
can I help our sex life progress?—R.U., 
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania 

A: With this attitude you're already 80 
percent there; all you have to do is fig- 
ure out the other 20 percent together. I 
would imagine that, as an exotic dancer, 
your girlfriend might have some diffi- 
culty untangling her sexual practices at 
work from those at home. At work she 
probably has two modes: one in which 
she portrays someone else's sexual fan- 
tasy and another in which she shuts 
down her sexuality to recenter herself. 
It sounds as though this mirrors how she 
treats conversations around intimacy, 


38 


either saying what she thinks you want 
to hear or not speaking at all. My guess 
is she would like space to call the shots, 
to allow things to be her idea and to know 
that there is no expectation for anything 
other than her truth. This transition may 
take time and a lot of verbal affirma- 
tions along the way. As a starting point, 
I would suggest you learn her “turn-on 
triggers"—a system I created to help cou- 
ples understand, beyond basic biological 
instigators, what gets their partner in 
the mood. The triggers are environmen- 
tal (the five senses must be appeased, 
meaning the environment must be tidy 
and set), mental (e.g., a sapiosexual who 
requires a mental connection before a 
physical one), desire (direct language or 
actions that make someone feel wanted), 
cat-and-mouse (power play in which a 
partner likes to work for it or be worked 
for), negotiated (something else in addi- 
tion to sex must be offered to sweeten the 
pot) and visual (attention to appearance 
is paramount). I have a quiz you both can 
take to learn what each other's triggers 
are: thegameofdesire.com/quiz. Try it out 
as a launching point. 


Q: What advice would you give a 
20-something woman who has never had 
an orgasm because she can't rid herself 
of the idea that self-pleasure is bad or 
dirty? She doesn't know what she likes 
or even how to figure it out, which makes 
telling her partners what to do that much 
more difficult. —R.W., Toronto, Ontario 

A: I have seen this question many, many 
times. What that person needs more 
than anything else right now is patience 
with herself as opposed to a quick “get 
over it and get into it" fix. Years and 
years of sex-negative messaging are not 
that easy to erase! I am a person who has 


drenched herself in sex-positive con- 
tent, and I still, at times, feel internally 
shamed. Instead of trying to ignore 
those feelings when they come up, I em- 
brace them. I examine where they're 
coming from, I ask myself how credible 
the original source is, and I make tiny 
adjustments to my behavior so that I can 
work through my feelings—slowly. The 
woman who has never had an orgasm 
or masturbated has likely not found her 
middle, because no one has ever invited 
her there. Her past told her to deny her 
sexual self, and perhaps those in her 
present are pushing her to be totally 
liberated in her sexual pursuits. That's 
a big jump. I would suggest she ignore 
both, find her own true starting point 
and take it from there. And because 
this can never be said enough, I'd like to 
add that while it can seem as though the 
rest of the world is living in the land of 
milk and orgasms, women's pleasure re- 
searcher Elisabeth Lloyd, author of The 
Case of the Female Orgasm, has found 
that only 25 percent of women are con- 
sistently orgasmic during vaginal inter- 
course and about five percent never have 
orgasms. The path to pleasure is not lin- 
ear for many women—all the more rea- 
son to take it slow and do it your way. 


Q: I'm in a monogamous relationship 
with the love of my life, but I've recently 
become attracted to someone else—a 
woman (like me)—whom I know well and 
have been interested in оп and off since 
before this relationship. Гге suggested 
polyamory, but my partner isn't onboard 
with that. What should I do?—G.S., 
Sausalito, California 

A: It sounds like what you need is an op- 
portunity to explore this connection with 
your “someone else” without impinging 


оп your primary partnership. Inter- 
est and engagement are very different 
things. After spending more time with 
the other woman, the reasons the two 
of you never worked out may become 
clearer. On the flip side, maybe through 
this exploration you'll decide that she 
can actually improve all your relation- 
ships by allowing you to be in full, bal- 
anced expression. At that point I'd revisit 
the polyamory discussion with your 
partner. You may be looking for a free 
relationship— defined not by the rules or 
titles you chose in the beginning but by 
how each partner feels at any given time. 
The only thing constant in this world is 
change, and in a free relationship this 
isn't just your reality; it's your mantra. In 
order for this arrangement to thrive, you 
must be committed to hearing your part- 
ner's truths without constantly person- 
alizing them. You acknowledge that your 
relationship is yours to experience, not 
to control. In short, when it comes to the 
rules of your relationship, you edit them 
often. And I suspect that right now what 
you need is a relationship that gives you 
space to flirt, connect and gain clarity. 


Q: І want to get straight to the point: 
How do I get women to like me? I'm а 
28-year-old black male who's never been 
in а serious relationship от had vaginal 
intercourse. (I once paid a stripper to 


let me go down on her, but that's it.) Гоё 
tried dating apps and shooting my shot 
on Twitter, but I still get nothing. Am I 
doing something wrong? Am I just ugly? 
Am I doomed to a life of watching porn 
all the time and paying strippers?—P.S., 
Atlanta, Georgia 
А: Iam so grateful for this question. It is 
vulnerable, authentic and relatable. And 
you are already on track to solve your 
dilemma, so all I'm going to do is point 
that awesome energy toward some ac- 
tion. I have a five-phase strategy you can 
use to make yourself a masterful connec- 
tor. Here's the lightning-round version: 
1. Get to know yourself. This does 
not mean take yourself on a long ro- 
mantic walk; it means start identify- 
ing the core of who you are and how you 
tend to interact with others. I suggest 
doing the Big Five Personality Test and 
an attachment-theory quiz to start. In- 
vest some time in studying emotional 
intelligence to help you master your in- 
terpersonal life. Next, take what you've 
learned and get feedback from others; 
after all, the mirror cannot see itself. 
Since you don't have an ex, ask a close 
friend or family member how you can 
improve as a connector, and if you sense 
they're giving you answers to support 
your ego versus your growth, tell them 
you can handle the truth—and you need 
it in order to move forward. 


2. Change yourself. Those are trig- 
gering words, I know, but change is the 
only constant; all you're doing is tak- 
ing ownership over the process. Based 
on what you've learned through your 
self-assessment, start making small in- 
tentional changes so that who you know 
yourself to be and how people perceive 
you are more aligned. 

3. Learn from the greats. Once you've 
gotten good with you, start reading books 
or enlisting the help of experts to learn 
how to attract others. We're told that 
flirting, seduction, social intelligence, 
charisma, empathy, humor, strength and 
even attractiveness are traits we're sim- 
ply born with, but in truth these are all 
skills that can be taught. 

4. Practice, practice, practice. There's 
a reason pro athletes practice more than 
they play: If you can't do something 
when the stakes are low, you won't have a 
chance in hell of performing when pres- 
sure, nerves and clocks are in the mix. So 
learn to love socializing, start conversa- 
tions with no agendas and be charming 
to everyone you meet. Not only will this 
make you a better dater; it will make your 
time on this planet more pleasant. 

5. Set yourself up for success. Now that 
you're good with you and good with oth- 
ers, put yourself in environments that 
welcome, want and warrant the absolute 
best version of you. 


PLAYBOY 50 


КЕК 


INTERVIEW 


погна DAVID BOWIE 


an outrageous conversation with the actor, rock singer and sexual switch-hitter 


Не was once а icy, koncy-haired 
folk singer, Then the Горрий leader of 
a Beailesprotetype pop bend, The 
Buzz Then ат adaman(!y bisexual ballad 
е". Then a spacy, croppedrcdhaired 
andragynaur guitarut backed by < bend 
called the Spaters from Mars Then + 
soul singer. Then а movie actor... end 
Anelly, a келі, conservative, Sinatre- 
esque entertainer, Devid Bowie, it’s safe 
lo sey, would de anything 16 тей û 
And mow that he har made it, bell de 
anyehrng lo меу there 

At 29, David Dowie (born Dawid Jones 
in Brixton, England) is far more then 
another rock ster. Не ir а wif-designed 
media manipulator whe knoss neither 
ма nor intimidation. There ü but one 
objection № Ма Мете, eene c 
rerr—aitention, Withowt Й, һе would 
surely wither and die. Before a crowd of 
paying customers, 4) pounbic. 

in Арай 1975, Bowie splashity ew 
nounced he had given wp om rock. “I've 
rocked ту roll,” ü the wey he ры it 
"Its а boring deed end. There will be 
по mere rock'n'roll records вт tours 
from me. The last thing I want to be û 
soma uncles fucking roch singer.” That 
wer the second time Aed mede тей а 
statement. He had (ені exsounced a rock 


амат ватт 


"Dirk are always presuming Гое kept 1 
heterosexual virginity. So Гуе had 

these girls try te get me over to the other 
side өшін: “C'mon, David, ü im't ell 


retirement during hir encore at a huge 
outdoor London concert in 197), «рет 
which he went on to release “Diamond 
Бор” and 19 book a three month Amero 
can tou 

This time, Bowie sie Ми words of 
farewell even more spectacularly. Last 
Nevember, he arranged an inieroiew by 
satellite from his Los Angeles home with 
England's most popular tathahew host, 
Russell Harty, to explain thet he had 
« mew album of doxblefated rock 'п' 
voll, “Sear so Station.” Wher's mere, 
Bowie rambled on, he would won be 
embarking өн а ux month world-wide 
concert blitz. The government af Spain, 
тесеп, demanded emergency une of 
the satelite зо tell the world that Сењ. 
етае Frenco hed died Dowwe, аль 
the bad bop, vefuned 10 paa й up. 

Bowis is mot the mont loved. man im 
the music busines. ЗОШ, he has made іш 
mark. When he first appeared om ач 
American Меке, іп 1972, he wes humping 
his guitarist, wearing full makeup and 
sporting Leak) feminine costumes Me 
instantly created е new genre—glamer 
roch—chet yanked roch out of its im 
mocence. Mick Jagger and The Rolling 
Stones, Elton John, Alice Cooper, Todd 
Rundgren, Lou Reed and а hot of 


[c 
"The only thing thet shock: now ù an 
extreme, Like me running wy mouth off, 
jecking myself af. Unica you do thet, 
nobody will pay attention to yes. You 
heve to hit ¡hem en the hand.” 


glitter bonds, such es Queen, Roxy Мы 
sw, Slade, T. Mex and Cockney Hebel, 
followed rut 

Once Bowie had turned everybody's 
head om that frst U.S бом”, it waww t long 
befare Ви ¿bro current / Г obau! а doomed 
sock demigod, "The Rise and Fall of 
Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from 
Men," shot to the top of the cherts. His 
three previous albwous—ell stiffs im their 
depbegen selling wildly. The prem 
leaped to proclaim Bowie the Next Big 
Thing we'd all been craving since the de 
mise of the Desiles. Just es quickly, й 
turned (о atieck the phenomenon, There 
wat, dl seemed, something во Bowie's 
borzwal band wegen (het өзіні quoe 
heatiby 

Musicians and enews bonded together 
to revolt oprint Bowie's decadence. But 
Bowie had already assumed а new, equal 
hy bedicroms )ерегіс--«Әж» soul, Заден 
this prail, jaggy herd rocher war bumping 
and grinding өші (бу and ines. And 
à worked. Howie sechad up two huge 
hits, “Young Americans” end “Fame” 
Then сете the wliimaie acceptance: Не 
become one of the very few whites ever 
to be invited to appear on "Son! Train." 

To eccommodete the wide base of his 
тысем, Bowie Aes since amed the 


iPLAYBOY.COM 


ranor темен; SAMUEL L. JACKSON 


a candid conversation with hollywood's top-grossing actor (believe М) abont ғастон 
the joy of golf, the nightware of crack and what it's like to act with yoda 
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denn Ma — < ford ple — end and norton de 


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ranor server. BILLIE JEAN KING 


a candid conversation with the contentious superstar of women’s tennis 


Lang Beach pub 


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EVER 


CHRISTIANE 


PLAYBOY 
INTERVIEW: 


AMANPOUR 


А candid conversation with the unbreakable newswoman on everything from 
immigration to #МеТоо, the power of the press to the dawn of her *sexy 605” 


An impeachment scandal is in full swing, 
and attacks on the press erupt almost 
daily from the White House. The year, of 
course, is 1973. 

In his Playboy Interview from that 
year, legendary CBS anchor Walter 
Cronkite was “visibly steamed” by a ques- 
tion about the Nixon administration— 
which at that time was halfway between 
the Watergate break-in and the presi- 
dent’s resignation—and its war on the 
news media. The fatherly newsman gave 
a strident critique of what he called a 
“well-directed campaign against the 
press, agreed upon in secret by members 
of the administration.” 

In 2019, another American president 
has declared war on the free press and is 
facing impeachment. But today’s most 
venerated defender of newsmen’s rights 


is not a newsman at all: It’s Christiane 
Amanpour, the British Iranian war re- 
porter turned CNN and PBS host. Crisp, 
elegant and unshakably poised, Aman- 
pour uses her nightly CNN International 
show to delve into global affairs, interro- 
gate newsmakers and occasionally rip to 
pieces the lies and obfuscations uttered 
by the world’s most powerful men. Aman- 
pour began her reporting career in a world 
just introduced to 24-hour news coverage, 
and even in an age of fake news and over- 
flowing Twitter time lines she remains 
our guide across borders worldwide. 

Born in London to a British Catholic 
mother and a much older Iranian Muslim 
father, Amanpour spent a charmed child- 
hood in Tehran, riding Arabian stallions 
and skiing through the winter. At 11, she 
was sent to a British convent school; she 


would remain in the English educational 
system through high school. By the time 
she enrolled at the University of Rhode 
Island to study journalism, Iran was in 
the throes of a revolution. The Amanpour 
family fled to England, starting anew 
in a cramped flat. For the nascent jour- 
nalist of the family, that historical mo- 
ment marked a turning point. “I knew 
what I wanted to do,” she said in a 2013 
Mediabistro interview. “I wanted to be a 
foreign correspondent.” 

Starting out at Providence, Rhode Is- 
land’s NBC affiliate, Amanpour soon 
heard about a new network called CNN. 
It was a ragtag place, she was told, where 
they might be more amenable to an olive- 
toned British-accented woman reporting 
the news. She made the switch, and Chris- 
tiane Amanpour as we know her was born. 


“Frankly, the press has been part of the 
problem by thinking that objectivity 
means neutrality or false equivalence.” 


“There are hundreds of millions of women 
around the world who don’t dare imagine 
that they have aright just to be happy.” 


PHOTOGRAPHY BY CHRISTELLE DE CASTRO 


"I'm pretty middle-of-the-road in most 
of my views except when it comes to geno- 
cide and climate truths.” 


PLAYBOY 41 


Name а major conflict of the past 30 
years, and Amanpour reported from it. 
Operation Desert Storm was her first, 
but she truly cut her teeth covering the 
Balkans, where her sense of moral out- 
rage mounted as she watched Serb atroc- 
ities and the targeting of her friends 
and colleagues. Reporting the news, 
she concluded in Bosnia, requires accu- 
racy and proportionality, not simplistic 
both-sidesism—an ethical code she has 
since called “truthful, not neutral.” 

That ethos has served her well as she's 
interviewed petulant lead- 
ers and seldom-questioned 
strongmen—she had an 
exclusive sit-down with 
soon-to-be-ousted Egyptian 
president Hosni Mubarak in 
the midst of the revolution 
in Cairo, was among the last 
journalists to interview Lib- 
ya's Moammar Gadhafi and 
was once told to “be quiet” 
by Yasir Arafat before he 
hung up on her—and shapes 
her approach to the Trump 
era. It has also made her a 
credible voice in the age of 
#МеТоо: She's a reporter for 
whom feminism is a simple 
commitment to equality, 
not an extremist takeover 
that threatens to destroy 
due process. And it makes 
her a fitting replacement 
for Charlie Rose, а man 
felled by his alleged pre- 
dation on and harassment 
of younger women, and in 
whose place Атапроит 6? 
Company now airs on PBS. 

In 1998 she married for- 
mer U.S. assistant secre- 
tary of state James Rubin; 
two years later she had their 
son, Darius, at the age of 42. 
Now, at 61 and recently divorced after 20 
years of marriage, Amanpour is opening a 
new chapter she calls her “sexy 60s." That 
storyline started in familiar territory: re- 
porting. Her six-episode series Sex & Love 
Around the World premiered on Netflix in 
2018, revealing Amanpour as a winning 
and surprisingly cheeky chronicler of fe- 
male lust, pleasure and desire. 

Amanpour sat down with journal- 
ist (and freelance CNN.com columnist) 
Jill Filipovic for PLAYBOY in Aman- 
pour's office at CNN's London headquar- 
ters, where a sign on the door, illustrated 
with an AK-47, reads PROHIBIT ENTRANCE 


42 INTERVIEW 


WITH WEAPON. Filipovic reports, “Chris- 
tiane Amanpour has little patience for 
theoretical musings about the state of 
journalism or feminism, and even less 
for armchair critics who haven't done the 
work or taken the risks. More than once 
she engaged with a question of mine be- 
fore rejecting it, but even in her dismiss- 
als she was thorough and illuminating. 
Just sitting in her office—lined with tro- 
phies, a framed picture of her son atop 
her crowded desk—you can imagine she 
would remain collected and steely even 


when bullets are flying. You walk away 
holding her in tremendous esteem and, 
not that she'd give a damn, liking her a 
lot—even when she calls you out on the 
first sentence of your interview." 


PLAYBOY: The president of the United 
States has called reporters scum and slime. 
AMANPOUR: I cannot believe you started 
with the president of the United States. 

PLAYBOY: Going for it, you know? He 
has targeted CNN in particular as a pur- 
veyor of fake news. Public trust in the 
media is at an all-time low in the United 
States. You've made a career out of telling 


some of the world's most important sto- 
ries. What do you make of this moment 
for press freedom and the role of journal- 
ism in society? 

AMANPOUR: The president has been 
very clear from the beginning that the 
strategy is to delegitimize whoever he 
thinks is an opponent, whether it's the 
press, a foreign leader, the chairman of 
the Federal Reserve—whoever seems to 
stand in his way. That's his thing. Our 
job is to not accept that framing from 
anybody who seeks to delegitimize the 
free, independent, demo- 
cratically protected press. 
I have a platform to bring 
the truth, to bring evi- 
dence, to bring stories, to 
bring what's really happen- 
ing in the world and in the 
United States to the audi- 
ence. I think the rest of it 
is up to the audience. They 
now have responsibility. 
PLAYBOY: But lots of view- 
ers aren't taking that on; 
many are simply seek- 
ing out publications and 
television shows that con- 
firm their prior beliefs. 
Are viewers the ones who 
are abdicating their civic 
responsibility? 
AMANPOUR: There are a 
lot of people who believe the 
conspiracy theories and the 
lies that are told about us or 
about what’s going on in the 
world. But I notice the back- 
lash to all these lies and 
conspiracy theories, and I 
appreciate the fact that our 
ratings are up, readership 
is up, subscription is up 
for real truth-telling plat- 
forms. I'm not a Pollyanna. 
I don’t think we’re out of 
danger. I think, though, that those of us 
who have been doing this for a long time, 
who are experienced and know where the 
truth lies, have a responsibility to stand 
up for Ше truth—even in public, even if 
it’s unpopular. 

PLAYBOY: You’ve risked your life for sto- 
ries. Friends and colleagues of yours have 
given their lives to bring us the news. Just 
оп avisceral human level, how does it feel 
when you hear the president ofthe United 
States call reporters slime? 
AMANPOUR: I haven’t heard the word 
slime, but I'm hurt and obviously of- 
fended when I hear an absolutely vital 


рШаг of democracy and civil society 
being trashed from within. But it also 
redoubles my commitment to fighting 
against it. I know firsthand the danger of 
living in a world where lies are portrayed 
as facts. For me, the difference between 
truth and lies is the difference between 
freedom and democracy and dictator- 
ship. So I'm very troubled by this. But I'd 
still love to interview President Trump. 
PLAYBOY: There's a debate roiling the 
press right now about how to cover the 
president's lies—or those of anyone who 
comes face-to-face with journalists and 
spreads absolute falsities. How much air- 
time do you give that? 

AMANPOUR: You don't. You counter 
it. The concept of fake news is 

not something Donald Trump in- 
vented. Others might have called 

it propaganda. Just in fairly re- 

cent history, the Soviet Union was 

a master of this. The Soviets, now 

the Russians—that's their war 

by other means. That's how they 

fight to keep dominance in their 
sphere. We've got plenty of expe- 
rience, we in this free press, and 

we know how to counter it. We just 

have to do that without getting 
hysterical, overly despondent and 

overly emotional. 

PLAYBOY: The New Yorker and 

Errol Morris both got in hot water 

for interviewing or planning to 
interview Steve Bannon. The 
argument was essentially that 

he's а propagandist, not some- 

one whose voice should be am- 
plified, which exemplified the idea of 
de-platforming. Is there anyone you would 
never interview or have on your show? 
AMANPOUR: Right now I refuse to 
have climate deniers on my show. I will 
not have people who deny scientific ev- 
idence. I'm very much wedded to the 
concept of fact-based, evidence-based 
empirical truth. People who say it doesn't 
exist are just equivocating and are rela- 
tivists. Frankly, the press has been part 
of the problem by thinking that objec- 
tivity means neutrality or false equiva- 
lence. It no more means that when we're 
discussing climate and science than it 
does when we're talking about genocide 
and ethnic cleansing. When you pre- 
tend you're being objective by equating 
unequal facts and unequal moralities, 
you're not telling the truth. You're telling 
lies. In the worst case, you're an accom- 
plice to the worst results of that. 
PLAYBOY: But how do you navigate 


moral outrage in a place where you don't 
know the culture very well, where you're 
an outsider? 

AMANPOUR: I hope this doesn't sound 
arrogant, but I've grown up all over the 
world. I've traveled all over the world. I 
grew up in a patriarchal society with a 
Muslim father and a Catholic mother— 
an Iranian father, a British mother. I 
was taught from a very young age about 
the morals we learn first and fore- 
most through our religious upbringing, 
whether it's Christian, Jewish, Mus- 
lim or whatever. Thou shall not kill. 
Respect your father and your mother. 
Thou shall not lie. All those things we 
grow up with form the basis of a moral 


I have no time for 
this conversation 


about whether 
weshould 
or shouldn't be 
there. 


platform. It's true that I don't know the 
ins and outs of every single culture, but 
I've learned a lot over the 30 years I've 
traveled the world examining people's 
cultures. I learn as I go. But I don't con- 
sider my reporting to be some kind of 
moral diatribe; I look to the humanity 
of every situation. I see people in every 
story I cover, people with lives and loves 
and stories to tell who aren't just statis- 
tics in war or famine or whatever politi- 
cal crisis they might be caught up in. 
PLAYBOY: Have you ever felt that the 
push to find truth in a complicated situa- 
tion and not be focused on neutrality has 
taken you away from your obligations as 
areporter? 

AMANPOUR: Never. I challenge any- 
body to produce any piece of my report- 
ing they think fits that description. 
Never. Which is not to say I got every- 
thing right all the time. One ofthe things 
I like about going places and spending a 


long time there is that the story comes 
into focus ever more sharply. I've never 
presumed to be an expert from day one on 
the ground. I've always said that the first 
stories you see will inevitably be pretty 
simple. The longer you're there, the more 
the layers will manifest themselves. 

PLAYBOY: One criticism of foreign cor- 

respondence as a field is that it's neo- 

colonial: Foreign correspondents go in, 
extract news from poorer countries and 
run stories that are simplistic or sensa- 
tional or that simply portray other cul- 
tures as backward and in need of saving. 

Is there a diversity problem in interna- 

tional reporting? 

AMANPOUR: Ро think there should be 
more diversity? One hundred per- 
cent. Do I think there should be 
more gender equity? Do I think 
there should be diversity in every 
level of news coverage, and in 
every level of global society? Yes, I 
absolutely do. But do I apologize? 
Certainly not. If we didn't do it, 
who would? The typical complaint 
comes from armchair warriors 
sitting at home in their pajamas, 
tweeting, instagramming and 
facebooking from 10,000 miles 
away. Tell me, which is worse? 
That's a whole lot worse than those 
of us who get up and go there and 
find the stories. 

PLAYBOY: I think there are two ar- 
guments. One would be that it’s un- 
balanced: How many Africans are 
in the White House press corps? 
The other is that publications like 

The New York Times and networks like 

CNN should be relying more on local jour- 

nalists to cover their own nations. 

AMANPOUR: I think this criticism is 

crap, if you want my honest opinion. As 

I said, what is the other option? Further- 

more, things are changing, and I think 

that criticism is out-of-date. I think my 
profession was instrumental in turning 
around the West’s indifference to Bos- 
nia and then to Kosovo. We helped spur 
our democracies to intervene, to stop 

a genocidal slaughter in Europe and 

therefore save their own dignities and 

standings as well as lives on the ground. 

That’s a good thing. We did that, and Im 

proud of it. We might have had that im- 

pact had we been en masse in Syria, but 

we weren’t, because ISIS was beheading 
people, starting with poor James Foley. 

And so we were not able to go there. Who 

did we rely on? Syrians, Syrian journal- 

ists. They told the story of their war. 


PLAYBOY 43 


РГАУВОУ: At great personal risk. 
AMANPOUR: At great personal risk and 
with great professionalism. I ask my- 
self, what would Obama have done if the 
same press corps that wasin Bosnia in the 
19908 had been in Syria, telling the same 
human stories day after day and making 
it impossible for our democracies to turn 
their heads in the face of wanton slaugh- 
ter and wholesale violation of all the val- 
ues and policies the West says it not only 
upholds but seeks to promote around the 
world? It's a terrible realization that we 
failed in Syria. The Syrian journalists did 
a great job, but we failed. The Trump ad- 
ministration is now pulling out American 
forces, and ISIS is not defeated. 

We failed in Rwanda. We didn't go to 
Rwanda because, if I'm not mis- 
taken, the African and the Western 
press were focused on the good- 
news story of Nelson Mandela's 
election in South Africa, a fantas- 
tic story. They were focused on O.J. 
Simpson in the United States. And 
in three months, 800,000 to 1 mil- 
lion black people were slaughtered 
in Rwanda. That's a huge burden 
to bear. What I'm saying is that 
I have no time for this conversa- 
tion about whether we should or 
shouldn't be there. 

PLAYBOY: Speaking of things you 

might have no time for, you're one 

of the most famous female jour- 
nalists in the world. What are you 

sick of getting asked about being a 
woman in this field? 

AMANPOUR: Oh, that's inter- 
esting. What am I sick of getting asked? 
“What does it mean to be а woman in 
this field?" More and more women have 
joined this particular profession as for- 
eign correspondents, in front of the cam- 
era, behind the camera, on shows and 
the like. That's a huge change from when 
I started out in 1990. But until we have 
more women at the top of news organi- 
zations, there will still be an issue—not 
with how women are represented but how 
the world is represented. 

Treating women equally is not just a 
human right or a charity. If women as 
well as men in our work were determin- 
ing what stories were going to be covered 
so there wasn't such a massive imbal- 
ance, eventually you would get a differ- 
ent look at the world. Women have made 
a big difference in how we cover the 
world—and I think our male colleagues 
have learned from us—because in addi- 
tion to covering the bang-bang and the 


44 INTERVIEW 


hardware and all of that, our natural 
instinct is that everyone has a human 
story. The thing I've learned throughout 
my career, and I guess from my child- 
hood, is that we're all very similar. We 
all, wherever we come from, have the 
same hopes, the same dreams, the same 
desires. And we need to emphasize that 
more and more, because there's a sense 
these days—especially with national- 
ism, populism and anti-immigration, 
whether it's in the United States, parts 
of Europe or elsewhere—that somehow 
there is a group of people who are less 
than human, who are really scary, who 
would do us harm, who would, if we let 
them in, somehow destroy our coun- 
tries. It's not borne out by the facts, 


What am I 


sick of getting 


asked? “What 


does it mean to 


be a woman in 
this field?” 


and it's sad that today those thoughts 
and those politics are still being perpe- 
trated. Too many political leaders are 
appealing to the fear factor rather than 
to the hope factor. 

PLAYBOY: Give me an example: When 
have you covered a story differently? 
AMANPOUR: In my coverage of the 
war in Bosnia I almost never went to the 
briefings at the beginning, and I didn't 
do the politics. І remember telling sto- 
ries of what it was like as an ordinary 
person to be caught in a medieval siege 
from 1992 all the way through the 1990s 
until the war was stopped. The first win- 
ter, ГП never forget, professors, engi- 
neers, scientists, artists were cutting 
down trees for wood, burning their books 
for heat, picking grass and herbs from 
the central islands along Sniper Alley, 
just trying to survive. 

PLAYBOY: Your personal and profes- 
sionallives have hinged on migration and 


movement. What perspective do you wish 
Americans had on the immigration de- 
bate? How could we be thinking about it 
differently? 
AMANPOUR: First and foremost it is ab- 
solutely true that over many, many years 
the United States administrations and 
Congress have failed to implement a ra- 
tional immigration-reform process, pro- 
gram or set of laws. They've just failed. 
What we're seeing is a whole load of ad hoc 
policies that are made with a huge amount 
of short-termism that then affect real 
human beings. So I think one story that's 
not told enough about the Southern bor- 
der of the United States is the push factor: 
What is causing people to get up and take 
that very dangerous route by foot, many 
with their families, to come from 
Central America or wherever it 
might be to try to find refuge? The 
economic and environmental fall- 
out there is not being told. 

People wish to stay in their own 
countries if they can. That's the 
one thing I've learned from trav- 
eling and covering war and ref- 
ugees. It's not as if everybody's 
dying to suddenly leave their 
countries and come to Ше U.S. 
Most people who come are forced 
to by crime, war, famine, dic- 
tatorship or lack of freedom in 
their own countries. They would 
rather stay where they are. That's 
why, to me, it would seem that 
the best foreign policy of a na- 
tion is not only to keep itself and 
its economy and standing in the 

world secure but also to do its utmost not 
to close its borders and hunker down; a 
nation needs to do what it can to make 
other parts of the world livable. I wish 
leaders could look a bit more broadly at 
what would really prevent a mass influx 
of people seeking basic safety and free- 
dom and something to eat. 

PLAYBOY: So I have this quote from you. 
In Sheila Weller's book The News Soror- 
ity, you say, "All my energy, my emotion, 
my intellect went into my work. During 
Ше 905, people would ask me, “When are 
you going to settle down?’ And Га say, ‘I 
don’t think ГП ever have a child.’” And 
then you did. What changed? 
AMANPOUR: What changed is that I 
felt I needed to humanize myself a lit- 
tle. Actually it was pretty funny. One of 
my producers, Robert Wiener, was in- 
strumental in CNN’s coverage of Bagh- 
dad during the war. He once said to me, 
“So, Christiane, what are you going to do, 


snuggle up with all your awards? Don't 
you think you need to get serious about 
your personal life?” I suddenly started to 
think about it, and I said, “Yeah, maybe I 
should focus a little bit more on my per- 
sonal life and see what happens.” And I 
did. I started to make myself more open. 
Га had great love affairs in the field, 
on the road, but Г was absolutely com- 
mitted to my career and to the stories. І 
could not have done what I did had I had 
the responsibility to stay alive and to 
keep leaving the field and going home. 
I couldn't have done it, end of story. І 
didn't really think about my own safety. 
You're young, you think you're immor- 
tal, you don't necessarily have anybody 
to stay alive for. You're balls to the wall. 
You're doing the job and you're 
loving it. So I was a late starter 

in that regard. І had my kid at 

42, and it is literally the joy of my 

life. But I can tell you one thing: 

As soon as І had my child, I sud- 

denly started to feel more ner- 

vous about going overseas, about 

going to war zones, about maybe 
succumbing, like so many of my 
friends and colleagues had done. 
PLAYBOY: Т don't mean to sound 
insensitive, but why have a kid 

then? 

AMANPOUR: Well, it's a good 
question. То be honest, І didn't 
necessarily think Г had to have а 

kid, but Т cannot imagine my life 

as rich as it has been since I’ve had 

my kid. Nothing in the world will 

match what my child means to 

me. Nothing, nothing, nothing. 

But fast-forward now to these young 
kids. І had a 26-year-old young man on 
my show recently, a member of Extinc- 
tion Rebellion, who, like many millen- 
nials, are asking themselves if they're 
going to have children. Are they going to 
be able to bring children into this world 
we've created for them through our wan- 
ton short-termism and greed? That's a 
whole different existential crisis than 
we had in my generation. Would I have a 
kid? Well, for me the question was could 
I still be a professional. Today the ques- 
tion is whether it's moral to bring a child 
into this world. These are tough issues our 
young people are wrestling with. 
PLAYBOY: Your show replaced Charlie 
Rose's on PBS after he was sacked for sex- 
ual harassment. He's just one of along list 
of men whose behavior has gotten them 
removed from their positions as part of 
the #МеТоо movement. 


46 INTERVIEW 


AMANPOUR: And all of them still deny it. 
PLAYBOY: You told Variety that you don't 
think the pendulum has swung too far. 
It's a question everyone's being asked: 
“Наз #МеТоо gone too far?" You said по. 
But you also said we can't have a one-size- 
fits-all solution to these issues. 

AMANPOUR: Correct, and those are 
not two opposing thoughts. Do I think 
it's gone too far? The answer for me is 
categorically no. This movement has 
completely changed the dynamic of the 
world. It's not perfect. It's not that now 
every woman is safe or every woman has 
a clear path up in her career or every 
woman can get the truth out. That's not 
the case. What it has done is shift in an 
irreversible way the expectations around 


How much 
luckter can I 


get? Seriously— 


it’s nota 
rhetorical 
question. 


what women have been forced to endure 
in silence. It has shifted entirely the no- 
tion of consent. I believe that in order 
to really change this, men have to be in- 
volved in the solutions. And I say that 
because I’m a feminist, because I’m 
the mother of a boy and I want my boy 
to grow up in a safe, consensual soci- 
ety, hand in hand with women, and be- 
cause I believe this world will never get 
any better unless in every level of society 
men and women are on equal footing and 
working together. 

PLAYBOY: So outside of the most obvious 
criminal cases that should be dealt with 
by the justice system, what does a solu- 
tion look like? 

AMANPOUR: Obviously crimes have 
been committed. We should not have peo- 
ple protecting themselves by having their 
lawyers or lobbyists or whoever they are 
getting victims to sign nondisclosure 
agreements, forcing people to accept pit- 


tances as payoffs or payouts. We should 
hold the serious offenders accountable, 
100 percent. But not every action is a 
criminal action. And not every action 
is the same. I think a huge amount of ef- 
fort and accountability can be meted out 
without necessarily firing or destroying 
somebody’s life. 

But much like the Truth and Recon- 
ciliation Commission in South Africa 
or those kinds of post-conflict resolu- 
tions, it requires all sides—in this case 
all genders—to work together. It requires 
those whose wrongdoing is less than a 
criminal wrongdoing to fess up, to work 
with whoever they need to work with on 
whatever level to atone. Some people 
have perhaps been accused unfairly, and 
we need to be very aware of that, 
because we're not going to have 
a solid foundation for this move- 
ment if it looks like it’s unfair 
and just a witch hunt. 

PLAYBOY: One thing feminists 
emphasize about this movement 
is that, though we talk about sex- 
ual harassment, it’s really not 
about sex; it’s about power. 
AMANPOUR: And sex. 
PLAYBOY: And it’s about the 
ways in which sexually harass- 
ing women are more than just “it 
makes us feel bad.” It’s that it sys- 
tematically pushes us out of op- 
portunities and out of particular 
fields. So is part of the solution 
to replace the men who have done 
wrong with women? 
AMANPOUR: Well, listen, you’re 
going to ask me because that’s my case. 
Charlie Rose does not accept these accu- 
sations. You have to put his perspective 
in it as well. But I can say only this: Iam 
absolutely thrilled and I think it’s a great 
statement that a woman has taken this 
job at this particular time. I’m not just 
a token woman. I’m a woman who has 
risen through the ranks and hopefully 
proved my competence, my integrity and 
my lack of compromise on those issues. 
So I think it’s completely and utterly apt. 
The amount of feedback I’ve had from 
women absolutely confirms that for me. 
Actually, I don’t even think it should be 
a question. I think women have proved 
themselves over and over again, and the 
notion that we should be grateful for any 
tidbits or crumbs or pairing with any- 
body else is ancient history. What irri- 
tates me is that when people of privilege 
complain about, let’s say, a woman get- 
ting this job, they’re complaining about 


the field being level. That's all. And 
that's not acceptable. We have to have a 
level playing field now. 

PLAYBOY: The #МеГоо observation I've 
found most resonant comes from Rebecca 
Traister in New York magazine: "In hear- 
ing these individual tales, we're not only 
learning about individual trespasses, 
but for the first time getting a view of 
the matrix in which we've all been liv- 
ing. We see that the men who have had 
the power to abuse women's bodies and 
psyches throughout their careers are in 
many cases also the ones in charge of our 
political and cultural stories.” How do 
you think it changes the dynamic to have 
women like you now in a position of tell- 
ing our political and cultural stories? 
AMANPOUR: First and foremost, the ul- 
timate contradiction to all of these ac- 
cusations against Harvey Weinstein is 
that he's been accused of some very se- 
rious criminal wrongdoing and miscon- 
duct against women, and yet he produced 
some great films. There's no doubt about 
it; our cultural environment might have 
been poorer without those films. But the 
point you're making is correct. If we ac- 
cept that our society's story will be told 
by only one gender, it's not the whole 
story. That's what we're still struggling 
for. It will take decades, if not centu- 
ries, more. And whoever's in a position 
of power, privilege and entitlement lets 
go of it with great difficulty. What they 
need to know is that most of us are not 
looking to overtake and dominate; we 
want to share in the telling of our per- 
sonal and global narrative, or our histor- 
ical narrative won't be told accurately. 
PLAYBOY: I don't work in many conflict 
zones, but I do work in humanitarian cri- 
sis zones. One of the more jarring things 
for me is coming home from a crisis and 
having a nice bottle of wine and dinner in 
a beautiful restaurant. It so deeply high- 
lights the random luck of being born in 
one place or another. How do you navigate 
that contrast, and does it ever get easier to 
be in the places you work and then come 
back to a beautiful home in London? 
AMANPOUR: I remember very strongly 
the first times I came out of the siege of 
Sarajevo to take a break. I would come 
out for maybe a couple of weeks and then 
be there for several months and then 
come out again for a couple of weeks, et 
cetera. I remember deep feelings of guilt 
when I left. I thought it was just me, but 
nowIknowit's very common. I don't even 
think it's post-traumatic stress disorder; 
it's stress-of-the-moment disorder, when 


you leave whoever it is behind, in what- 
ever nightmare scenario you've all been 
in together, and feel guilty for them, for 
their basic physical safety. You think 
you're deserting the cause, so to speak. 
You're deserting colleagues, friends, 
people, the story. 

I've had those feelings and I've pushed 
the limits of getting people out of the 
siege of Sarajevo. I did things that I 
would have been in deep, deep trouble 
for had it been known at the time. I used 
every means possible to extract some 
very vulnerable people from Sarajevo. 
It wasn't allowed, but I did it along with 
my team members, and I'm pleased and 
proud of that. 

PLAYBOY: Whom did you extract? 
AMANPOUR: I extracted a husband, 
wife and their kid and made up all sorts 
of stories as to why they had to be pro- 
cessed through the official lines, get on 
a military flight, get out, come to the 
United States, et cetera. I even said the 
kid worked for a kids’ program on CNN. 
It was only mildly stretching the truth. 
In any event, I saved their lives, we saved 
their lives, and I have nothing to apolo- 
gize for. Again, what's the alternative? 
Our oath, or mine, is do no harm. I don't 
feel the necessity not to come home and 
have a glass of wine and see my friends 
and family. In fact, I believe that kept 
me sane and that I could, like many peo- 
ple, have been driven completely mad 
had I stayed there the entire time with 
no break. And then what good would I 
have been? What story would I have told? 
I would have been totally compromised. 
One of my proudest accomplishments is 
that I emerged sane from all these hor- 
rendous things I've seen. 

PLAYBOY: Were there ever moments 
when you felt you'd crossed over, that 
you were at a point where you were men- 
tally unwell? 

AMANPOUR: Nope. Never. Certainly not 
at the time and not since, but I think it's 
an important question, because there are 
degrees thereof. Some people are much 
more affected, some people less. Some 
people are obviously affected, some peo- 
ple hide it. I think mental health is an 
issue we absolutely have to talk about. And 
we are, more and more and more. I credit 
CNN and all the news organizations that 
very early on in the Bosnian war and cer- 
tainly after 9/11 realized they were send- 
ing their employees into the worst, most 
extreme experiences of the human condi- 
tion, and that it will have an effect. 

There's no doubt I've been affected. 


And I would say that sometimes I'm very 
stressed, sometimes I'm anxious, some- 
times I can maybe talk loudly or what- 
ever. I put it all down to the effects of what 
I went through. I'm not ashamed. I don't 
have screaming PTSD, but I certainly 
have...I don't know. I don't even know how 
to describe it. 

PLAYBOY: A normal human reaction? 
AMANPOUR: It's a normal human reac- 
tion, but you know what? It's to an abnor- 
mal human experience. Not only what 
happens to us, but to watch what's hap- 
pening to the people we're covering. It's 
inhuman what we've had to witness. And 
that's why I make no apologies for any of 
us who go and do it. You can be white, you 
can be rich, you can be poor, you can be 
any other color. But go and tell the sto- 
ries and tell them honestly and bring 
back the information. 

PLAY BOY: How did you not burn out? 
AMANPOUR: I think because I came 
back enough, but also I obviously have 
a huge amount of stamina, mental and 
physical. I am a very optimistic person. 
I have faith. I was always in the warm 
embrace of my family and friends. And 
that's what I would return to. I would 
come back to my family and friends and 
just try to have as normal and as beau- 
tiful a life as I could. I would go to mu- 
seums, go to good films, go to lovely 
gardens with beautiful plantings. I would 
gravitate toward beauty, and it was an 
antidote. I knew early on—even if I didn't 
know, I knew subconsciously—that I had 
to come back and do things that would 
cauterize the wounds. 

PLAYBOY: You've been described many 
times as having nerves of steel, but 
there must be moments when you're ab- 
solutely terrified. 

AMANPOUR: Yeah. 

PLAYBOY: What were some of those mo- 
ments when you felt the most frightened, 
and how did you navigate that? 
AMANPOUR: I'd never really been in 
a war zone before Bosnia. I mean, yes, 
there was the first Gulf war, but that was 
much more about big armies facing off 
against each other. It was much more of 
a set piece, though it was pretty scary 
when we were in Iraq under Saddam Hus- 
sein's whim. But to be in Bosnia in a me- 
dieval siege with indiscriminate shelling 
of civilians—and we were obviously 
among the civilians; we didn't have a spe- 
cial journalistic safe haven somewhere— 
was very scary when I first encountered 
it. And then you just develop a certain 
awareness. I always touch wood and say 


PLAYBOY 17 


I'm very lucky. Many of my friends and 
colleagues were not so lucky. You can't 
allow those fears and those emotions in 
the moment to paralyze you. It's only af- 
terward that you realize what you've been 
through, perhaps the crazy risks you've 
taken. The whole way through the war, it 
wasn't that I wasn't afraid; it was that I 
managed the fear. 

PLAYBOY: Are you a person of faith? 
AMANPOUR: Yeah. 

PLAYBOY: Can you tell me more about 
that? 

AMANPOUR: Not really. I mean, it's 
nothing huge. I was brought up Catholic 
by my mother, and Г went to a Catholic 
convent. As I said at the beginning, that 
whole early childhood education formed 
my human and moral view of the world. 
“Do unto others as you would have them 
do unto you” is the basic golden rule, isn't 
it, of Christianity? I'm not an extremist. 
I'm pretty middle-of-the-road in most of 
my views except when it comes to geno- 
cide and climate truths. 

PLAYBOY: But you're also a feminist, 
right? 

AMANPOUR: Oh, I'm definitely a femi- 
nist, but that's middle-of-the-road. 
PLAYBOY: But the church is not exactly 
middle-of-the-road. 

AMANPOUR: No, it's not. So those are 
issues. When I have interviews with 
church leaders, for instance, I go very 
deep into that. I always bring up the issue 
of women in the Catholic Church 
PLAYBOY: Is that a challenge personally? 
Not to do your job, but to reconcile your 
faith with some of what the church does? 
AMANPOUR: No, no, no. Who I worry 
about offending is my mother, who 
watches. But for me, it's an absolute no- 
brainer. I'm sorry my faith has so much 
to account for and to atone for, but you 
know what? AII faiths do. 

PLAYBOY: It sounds like you're in a 
pretty fabulous professional place right 
now, but you told British Vogue that 
you're thinking of putting yourself back 
out in the field again. “It's time for my 
third act," you said. In your dream uni- 
verse, what's the third act? 
AMANPOUR: I don't yet know what my 
third act is. I'm on the cusp certainly in 
my chronological life. I'm not sure how 
it's going to manifest. What I do know 
is that I love being in the field, not nec- 
essarily under fire, but doing things like 
Sex & Love Around the World. I really en- 
joyed that, because even though it had 
that title, it wasn't about the seedy un- 
derbelly of sex that I've done so much on 


48 INTERVIEW 


as a reporter—the trafficking, the pros- 
titution, the sex-selective abortions of 
female fetuses, the rape and all the hor- 
rible stuff. This was completely differ- 
ent. This was about love and intimacy 
and how different societies define it and 
how they experience it. 

PLAYBOY: You mentioned your life as a 
young single foreign correspondent and 
the affairs, and that's kind of the movie 
picture: In between firefights every- 
body's having great romances and love 
affairs. How did being a young single 
woman in that field shape your views on 
sex and love and relationships? 
AMANPOUR: I was free in those years. 
I was on the road. I didn't have any con- 
straints from family, and I was able to ex- 
plore my emotional and physical desires. 
I know it’s acliché: As one male colleague 
used to say, wheels up, rings off. Now, I 
wasn’t married, so there was no ring to 
take off, but I met fantastic people who 
had the same worldview. We were on 
the front lines together. We believed in 
the same struggle. We were proud of our 
work and thought we were doing some- 
thing that made the world a better place. 
As I say, you’re on the extreme end of 
human experience in every way, even in 
your love affairs. It was great. And Im 
still friends with a lot of them. 
PLAYBOY: You don’t have to name 
names, but any you remember particu- 
larly fondly? 

AMANPOUR: Very fondly. The person 
who was my main boyfriend for the lon- 
gest time. Yeah, very fondly. 

PLAYBOY: What did you take away from 
that relationship? 

AMANPOUR: That it wouldn’t have 
lasted because we were both too focused 
on our careers. 

PLAYBOY: In your personal life and now 
in your reporting on sex and that realm 
of human experience for your Sex & Love 
Around the World series, what might be 
informative or useful to, let’s say, a typ- 
ical PLAYBOY reader, who's probably a 
man? What does he need to know? 
AMANPOUR: Okay, that’s interesting. 
I think he needs to know what I discov- 
ered reporting the Sex & Love series: 
not only the obvious, consent and all the 
rest of it, but that a man needs to be sen- 
sitive to what makes a woman tick; what 
it is that satisfies a woman emotionally, 
physically, sexually. I’ve noticed from 
a lot of the interviews I’ve done around 
this subject that the couples who feel the 
most heard are those who talk together 
the most and express their desires 


to each other. Communication came 
across as one of the most significant as- 
pects of what makes relationships suc- 
cessful or not. That’s important for men 
to understand, because I think men 
traditionally are less communicative. 
Women have the reputation of always 
wanting to talk, but we do it because we 
want to break down barriers—our own 
barriers, but also the barriers that may 
be preventing couples from really get- 
ting to know each other. 

PLAYBOY: Sex can be quite hard to talk 
about, even in very libertine societies. 
AMANPOUR: Yes and no. I was so 
amazed by how open these girls and 
women were to me. I mean, when I asked 
this Afghan woman who was pregnant 
with her third child—she was probably 
по more than 20—I said to her, “Are you 
happy?” and the translator said, “Are 
you sure you want me to ask her that 
question?” She said in that society and in 
that milieu, it can be a subversive ques- 
tion. And that is perhaps one of the most 
important takeaways from the entire se- 
ries for me, because it just summed up 
everything: There are hundreds of mil- 
lions of women around the world who 
don’t dare imagine they have a right not 
just to be happy but to ask for happiness 
and love and care from their partners. 
That was an eye-opener to me. 
PLAYBOY: The series, to me, was 
quite unexpected. I’m wondering if you 
learned anything in your reporting that 
feels resonant to this period in your 
life—your “sexy 60s.” 

AMANPOUR: That’s a slogan I made up 
to make myself feel better. But in many 
ways there’s a freedom that comes with 
a certain age. I’m really lucky. I’m still 
gainfully employed, doing something 
incredibly satisfying on a really impor- 
tant network with a really great audience 
around the world and around the United 
States. How much luckier can I get? 
Seriously—it’s not a rhetorical question. 
I’ve received a lot, and I hope I’ve given 
back a lot. I hope it’s going to be sexy 60s. 
There’s a lot out there I don’t even know 
about that I want to explore. 

And that’s what it is: I don’t have the 
answers for the first time. I’ve just fig- 
ured it out while you're talking to me. 
I don’t have the answers. I don’t know 
what’s out there. And it’s a little scary, 
and it’s exciting. I think I’m on my last 
30 good years and I want to make them 


great. 
PLAYBOY: What's that going to look like? 
AMANPOUR: We'll see. El 


— re ў A Ж e SCI СОТ АПОСТОЛИ A A АРТ атына зал ыз а нс айыы IDE O dic таба енде Өле 


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7 


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— тээнэ 


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—— — — — — — ЧИ 
же we xm um Yu 
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ILLUSTRATION BY МАХ LOEFFLER 


What's {Пе true story 
behind a make-believe 
republic in Eastern 
Europe that captures 
the imagination of 
everyone who visits? 
Daisy Alioto searches 
for meaning іп а 
booming micronation 


Before traveling to Užupis, а self- 
declared republic within the Lithu- 
anian capital of Vilnius, I read the 
2009 novel The Republic of UZupis, 
by Korean author Hailji. The protag- 
onist, Hal, hopes to return to UZupis 
to lay to rest his father's ashes. Upon 
arriving, he encounters confusion 
about the republic's location, first 
with customs agents at the airport 
and then with his taxi driver, who 
circles Vilnius for more than an hour 
searching for the neighborhood. This 
is pure magical realism, but the al- 
legory makes its point: UZupis, a 
micronation founded in 1998, is elu- 
sive to outsiders but meaningful to 
those who want to believe. 

Arriving via Stockholm, I begin my 
journey differently than Hal. I bypass 
customs at Vilnius Airport and head 
straight into a cab. The driver easily 
pulls up my UZupian Airbnb on GPS. 
We wind through the narrow turns 
of Vilnius's Old Town, and Billie Eil- 
ish's familiar vocal fry on *Bad Guy" 
growls from the speakers as we cross 
the Bridge of Užupis. Užupis means 
“beyond the river," and the repub- 
lic's parliament is housed in a water- 
ing hole that overlooks the moat-like 
border. In an alcove in the stone em- 
bankment sits a bronze mermaid 
statue that's famous among locals; it 
was created by Romas Viléiauskas, 
an unremarkable sculptor by Google 
standards. Legend has it that if you 
look into the mermaid's eyes too long, 
you'll never leave. 

Visiting a new city just as the leaves 
start to turn is one of travel's many 
charms. Visiting a micronation on 
the precipice of autumn belongs in 
a separate category. Here, the air 


PLAYBOY 51 


өө 


Му intention 
was to раск 
all the world 
into one 

little place.” 


shivers with the past and a promise for the future of human- 
ity. The Uzupian constitution, 41 articles in length, is posted 
on mirrored plaques for public consumption and is considered 
required reading for tourists. Ruta Ostrovskaja, the republic's 
Ambassador in Vigor and Decision Making, calls the document 
“one of the best human rights declarations in the world.” Arti- 
cles range from “Everyone has the right to love” to “Everyone 
has the right to cry.” Some border on the absurd. (“A cat is not 
obliged to love its owner but must help in time of nee[d].") No- 
tably, in December 2018, the version of the constitution at the 
Embassy of the Republic of Uzupis to Munich—the document 
has been translated into dozens of languages—became the first 
ever to recognize artificial intelligence: “Any artificial intelli- 
gence has the right to believe in a good will of humanity.” (Said 
embassy consists of a small collective of artists and techies 
based in the Bavarian capital.) According to Ostrovskaja, the 
constitution wasn't written to be zany. It was written in the in- 
terest of survival. 

Uzupis was founded on April Fools’ Day 1998 and has since 
captured the attention of artists, poets and the technologically 
forward alike. It raises questions about the dwindling possibil- 
ities for borderless states in a post-digital world and the poten- 
tial for creative autonomy and self-governance amid rampant 
globalism. Comprising 148 acres and cordoned off from the rest 
of the capital by the Vilnia River, it has roughly 7,000 inhabit- 
ants. MicroFreedom, a website that indexes the world's micro- 
nations, ranks Užupis as “distinguished” for its longevity and 
success. It has been likened to Christiania, Copenhagen's hip- 
pie commune, minus the open-air cannabis market. Munich's 
ambassador to UZupis, Max Haarich, has even suggested that 
it's the most stable republic in Europe. Yet the ephemeral na- 
ture of a micronation invites projection and change: Depend- 
ing on whom you ask, UZupis is either a revolutionary political 
project or a fairy tale; it's a figment of the Baltic imagination or 
another rapidly gentrifying former Bohemia. In truth, Uzupis 
is all these things. 

The Office of the Geographer and Global Issues, a division of 
the Bureau of Intelligence and Research within the U.S. State 
Department, owns a collection of letters that have been referred 


52 TRAVEL 


to internally as the Ephemeral States file. The collection paints 
the micronation movement as a study in contrasts. One letter is 
from Leicester Hemingway, brother of Ernest, and comes with an 
endorsement from an employee of the Inspector General's Office 
that reads, іп part, “She knows Mr. Hemingway quite well and 
says he is not a kook and that he is quite serious about this cause.” 
The endorsement pertains to Hemingway's 1973 request that the 
United States recognize an artificially created island near the 
Bahamas. The request was denied. Another letter, from an indig- 
enous leader, sought permission to establish the Maori Kingdom 
of Tetiti Islands in the South Pacific. Nothing came of it. 

Most of the file's contents are comical and a testament to 
the male desire to conquer even a thimble's worth of territory. 
But some letters, such as the one from the Maori Kingdom, are 
harder to dismiss. In a region littered with colonial holdovers, 
who's to say who owns what? 

The internet has no doubt accelerated interest in micro- 
nations. It has also divorced the movement from physical terri- 
tories, though the existence of areas such as UZupis, which the 
Dalai Lama visited in June 2001, continues to lend credence to 
land projects. Travis McHenry, who manages MicroFreedom, 
tells me that the late-1990s rise of GeoCities, which stored user- 
created web pages, was instrumental in bringing awareness to 
individual micronations and the movement as a whole. In 2001, 
he used GeoCities to build a web presence for his own micro- 
nation, Westarctica, which corresponds to 620,000 square 
miles of unclaimed territory in Antarctica. McHenry, who was 
in the Navy at the time, staked his claim online for fun. He says 
the project backfired when two men from the Pentagon came 
to interrogate him and threatened to revoke his security clear- 
ance. Tensions were high in 2001, so McHenry recused himself 
from his *throne" until his military service ended. He has since 
transitioned Westarctica into an environmental nonprofit that 
advocates for the preservation of the region. 

The Seasteading Institute, founded by libertarians in 2008, 
sits on a similar axis of good intentions and make-believe. Its 
mission is to build autonomous floating cities to counter global 
ills such as rising sea levels, overpopulation and poor gover- 
nance, but tax evasion would no doubt be a primary draw for the 
wealthy wishing to establish residence on a seafaring city. The 
institute's ambassador program represents 29 countries and 24 
U.S. states, as well as Washington, D.C. Venture capitalist Peter 
Thiel has already invested in the project. 

Elsewhere are subreddits, Facebook groups and at least one 
Discord chat devoted to the micronation movement and popu- 
lated by younger generations. Of the increasing interest among 
young people in establishing their own sovereignty, McHenry 
points out that it solves two perennial gripes of adolescence: a 
“lack of control and having no friends." It's also a creative ex- 
ercise, offering opportunities to design currency, flags and 
stamps. Some of these useless stamps, termed Cinderellas, be- 
come collectors’ items, according to MicroFreedom founder 
Steven Scharff. *Not because of the fantasy element," he says. 
"The running joke is that the issuing party is gone at midnight." 
On my first night in UZupis, I manage to avert my eyes from 
the mermaid and instead focus on the Bridge of UZupis as I 
wait in parliament for the foreign minister, Tomas Cepaitis. 
I watch a man wade into the river to fasten a wooden swing to 
the wrought iron railing, a cigarette dangling from his mouth. 
Known as Destiny's Swing, the attraction is a permanent fix- 
ture; the laborer is replacing its broken predecessor. Above the 


swing аге doily-like dream catchers made by local grandmoth- 
ers. “They're going to dissolve in the winter, like our memories 
of our women,” Ostrovskaja later tells me. 

Cepaitis and Romas Lileikis, UZupis's president, founded the 
republic and wrote its constitution in an attempt to reshape the 
area's history. Before World War II, UZupis was a Jewish neigh- 
borhood, but about 95 percent of Lithuania's Jewish population 
was killed in the Holocaust. The emptied area deteriorated and 
criminals terrorized anyone unfortunate enough to walk the 
neighborhood after sunset. The area's main thoroughfare soon 
earned the nickname “the Street of Death." 

Čepaitis was familiar with the works of midcentury Polish 
writer and futurist Stanislaw Lem, who predicted such tech- 
nologies as virtual reality and search engines. Now that those 
innovations are no longer science fiction, Cepaitis is less in- 
terested in them. Amid the technological developments of the 
past two decades, Cepaitis tells me, “the soul remained the 
same—or became more savage." He adds, “You cannot live in 
a fairy tale all the time; you cannot live in reality all the time. 
My intention was to pack all the world into one little place." 

Declaring independence has been a test, in some form, of 
Lithuania's post-Soviet government. Would the area tolerate a 
new doctrine? The material conditions of Uzupis have certainly 
improved since 1998—almost too much. For more than two de- 
cades the area has prospered under the utopian constitution. In 
2004, geographers Harald Standl and Dovile Krupickaite pub- 
lished a study of gentrification in Vilnius with a special focus 
on UZupis. They found that between 1998 and 2003, real estate 
prices in the area rose by more than 70 percent. They also found 
that 65 percent of the heads of “new households" in UZupis had 
a university degree, versus 12 percent of “old households." 

Uzupis is now one of the most expensive places to live in Vil- 
nius. Electric scooters zip by a sculpture of an angel in the 
republic's central square. Herr Katt, a hip barbershop, and 
Kitsch, a gallery-café, cater to a new generation. Kitsch ac- 
cepts Bitcoin. It also serves an UZburger on a blue bun in hom- 
age to the republic's flag, which features a hand encircled in 
blue. Cepaitis tells me these changes are not unwelcome as long 
as the atmosphere is preserved, but he also claims that historic 
wooden buildings have conveniently gone up in flames to make 
way for development. In this way, UZupis is no different from 
every gentrifying community in the 21st century. 

In 2013, Gleb Divov, a Moscow native, was planning a move 
to Barcelona. He was set to open a company there and had even 
learned Spanish. On a whim, he booked a three-day trip to Vil- 
nius and ventured into Uzupis on the last. “When I walked 
across the bridge, it just clicked: Okay, I'm home," he says. 
Divov subsequently moved to the area, where he founded a 
start-up, Musical Blockchain, that aims to bring residents to- 
gether with compositions created by artificial intelligence. 

Divov is a synesthete: He can hear a melody just by looking 
at an object. His AI composer uses more than 40 data points— 
from color to shape to environmental conditions—along with a 
coded knowledge of music to turn areas of Vilnius into a sym- 
phony. *We define musical composition as a chain of linked 
blocks," he explains. Now UZupis's Minister of Sound, Events 
and Technologies, Divov dreams of implementing this tool as a 
means of canceling out noise pollution and drawing attention 
and new visitors to underdeveloped parts of the city. 

The city wasn't always tourist-friendly, according to William 
Adan Pahl, a Detroit native who has lived in Lithuania since the 
year of UZupis's founding. But UZupis, by welcoming newcomers 


with open arms, benefited from a wave of tourism that flooded 
Eastern Europe following the Pan-European expansion of 
Ryanair airlines and Lithuania's new popularity as a destination 
for bachelor parties. ("The cities of Eastern Europe may come 
to curse the day they ever got that Ryanair route," reported The 
Independent in 2016. "Yes, invading hordes of drunken Brits is 
good for the local economy, but at what greater cost?") 

“It was like something was coming from off in the distance and 
we were going to be ready for that change when it came," Pahl 
says. He stops short of calling the government a drinking club 
and considers the constitution a symbol rather than a living po- 
litical document. “From my point of view, we're celebrating the 
instrument of the constitution. It's the focus of a celebration. It's 
not a tool. It reflects the spirit of the place," Pahl says. 

Haarich, the Munich ambassador, wants to use Uzupis as a 
model for bringing together techie and art communities. He 
worked in artificial intelligence at a start-up center partnered 
with BMW, among other companies, that has plans to expand 
into one of Munich's artist communities. "Artists can make 
technology more ethical just by bringing it closer to society and 
making it more accessible,” he says. “There's this big threat of 
gentrification—but there's this big chance to create something 
very innovative that I want to connect to UZupis because it has 22 
years of experience with gentrification." 

Haarich is part of a Facebook group dedicated to micro- 

nations. It's filled with people hoping to found their own 
Uzupis. Few of these communities will survive—but if they do, 
technology will likely play a role. McHenry says, “They really 
are an inspiration to every other micronation out there and to 
common people who have no idea what a micronation is." 
As if to underscore the fascination with Uzupis's origins, a 
Korean production company is filming a re-creation of the an- 
nual April 1 celebration of independence during my visit. On that 
date every year, tourists can get their passports stamped on the 
bridge, and government ministers are paid for their service in 
rare UZupian currency. At this mock celebration, a band plays 
“When the Saints Go Marching In" as actors оп stilts walk along- 
side cars flying the republic's flag. I approach two locals cast as 
extras who, like me, are watching the action. 

“Tve never seen a Lithuanian dressed like this,” says a girl 
costumed in Victorian fashion. Her companion is wearing a 
parrot suit. 

“Is the parrot customary?" I ask. 

“Ко.” We both laugh. 

On my last day I revisit the constitution plaques and wait 
for other tourists to leave before setting my palm on the Open 
Hand of UZupis, which is mounted nearby. Tourists lay their 
hands on this symbol for good luck. It shares its design with 
the official flag: a hand with a hole through the middle. Some 
sources cite it as a symbol of refusing bribes, but Ostrovskaja 
tells me it means “easy come, easy go" —as in, one can't hold on 
to material things. I touch it and feel an invisible country slip 
through my fingers. 

In his book Invisible Cities, the Italian journalist and au- 
thor Italo Calvino writes, *The catalogue of forms is endless: 
until every shape has found its city, new cities will continue to 
be born. When the forms exhaust their variety and come apart, 
the end of cities begins." Before Пеауе, Cepaitis gives me a book 
of poetry by a Finnish ambassador. When I open it back home 
in New York City, a stamp falls out. Its provenance: the Federal 
Republic of Lostisland. 


PLAYBOY 53 


M Ез.0 17125 


UN PREIS 


Introducing 
the Cool Party: 
No Policies, 
Just Attitude 


DOT 


It's about attitude, and it's about time. Eric Andre, host of 
Adult Swim's The Eric Andre Show and star of the prank- 
based feature film Bad Trip, is running for president and, 
like most of his fellow candidates, investing all his en- 
ergy in the construction of an attention-grabbing per- 
sona. Unlike his rivals—with the exception of our actual 
president—the Florida-born hopeful is building his image 
on a platform of blatant falsehoods, below-the-belt insults 
and dereliction of duty. We caught up with Andre at a 
salon, where a manicurist buffed fake tanner off his fin- 
gernails, and adjourned to his favorite Korean barbecue 
restaurant. There, he ate eel and pressed the flesh (and 
discussed his plan to celebrate a "crystal-meth Christ- 
mas") with a few starry-eyed constituents. He also gave us 
a glimpse into the Cool Party campaign, Russian pee-pee 
tape and all.—James Rickman 


PLAYBOY: Between Trump and Tom Steyer, we have two 
billionaires in the running. How's your war chest? 

ANDRE: I'm a thousandaire. I've made over $3,000 in my 
life. I dare you to find the person who's more qualified than 
me. I'm making over 250 bucks a week. 

PLAYBOY: Any campaign-trail highlights so far? 

ANDRE: None. I'm avoiding my constituents as much as 
possible. I've been spending all my time at Jimmy Buffett 
concerts and drinking Shamrockin' Sangria at Bennigan's. 
PLAYBOY: What's the change you want to see in the world? 
ANDRE: I don't want to see anything. I'm going to close my 
eyes and let my constituents do whatever. I want to golf and 
sleep under my desk as much as possible. I have absolutely 


PHOTOGRAPHY BY MILLICENT HAILES 


; М Е9.0 17125 


в- 


ЙЕ-4. ЗЕ, 5 


-2 šE 


no policies. And that's my promise to the American people: I'm 
just about attitude and swagger. 

PLAYBOY: Let's talk about attitude. How do you define it? 
ANDRE: Well, Webster's dictionary defines attitude as telling 
people your opponent sucks his own dick at night. I couldn't be- 
lieve Webster. I was like, “Webster, you old fool! You on one!" 
PLAYBOY: You've actually mentioned on the trail that your 
opponent "sucks his own dick at night." Do you think that's an 
appropriate thing for a candidate to say, and were you speak- 
ing metaphorically? 

ANDRE: I think it's more appropriate now than ever. I was 
speaking metaphorically and literally. Furthermore, I don't 
know who my opponent is. 

PLAYBOY: Who are you considering for your running mate? 
ANDRE: Uh, Jussie Smollett, Lil' Bow Wow, John Hinckley Jr. 
and Papa John. 

PLAYBOY: And who's going to be in your Cabinet? 

ANDRE: I'm gonna pull up to a McDonald's at three in the 
morning in an abandoned school bus and just put a bunch of 
ding-dongs onto the fuckin' bus and give them total autonomy. 
PLAYBOY: You reported from the Republican and the Demo- 
cratic conventions in 2016 — 

ANDRE: That's how I got the politics bug. 

PLAYBOY: Did those experiences inform your decision to run 
for president? 

ANDRE: Yeah. I was like, Politics is easier than comedy. It's 
like comedy, but you don't have the pressure of telling jokes; you 
just get up there and complain about shit and dupe people into 


56 HUMOR 


thinking you're going to do something while a 
few oligarchs control everything. 

PLAYBOY: Where do you stand on legalization? 
ANDRE: Legalization? Of everything? I'm all 
for it. I mean, doesn't matter to me. Whoever 
gives me the most money to get into office, ГП 
do whatever they want. I'm going to be pretty 
drunk on power. And schnapps. 

PLAYBOY: What would you legalize first? 
ANDRE: OxyContin. [burps] Excuse me. 
That’s on the record, by the way. That’s going 
in the anals [sic] of history. 

PLAYBOY: What about climate change? 
[Andre bursts into laughter] Is it real, and if 
so what do you plan to do about it? 

ANDRE: Wait till those polar ice caps melt, 
then surf the gnarliest fuckin’ tsunami, dude! 
Right into the Surf Olympics. 

PLAYBOY: What’s your relationship with the 
mainstream media? 

ANDRE: I don’t own а TV and I can't read. I 
have no relationship with it. 

PLAYBOY: We've seen the rise of social 
media as a political tool. Do you plan on run- 
ning your own accounts? 

ANDRE: I will at first, but I plan on getting 
hacked so that when I go on a bigoted diatribe 
and accidentally retweet my porn searches, 
ГИ have an excuse to fall back on and an in- 
tern to scapegoat, Ted Cruz-style. He was 
favoriting porn Twitter accounts, and then he 
was like [grunts], “Uh, my intern did that!” 
And he still beat the guy from the Mars Volta. 
PLAYBOY: Of course, Senator Cruz isn't Ше 
only politician who's had to deal with embar- 
rassing leaked documents. Do you anticipate 
any problems there? 

ANDRE: The only problem is figuring out 
when to release my sex tape, my Russian 
hooker pee-pee tape, my masturbation tape 
and my taking-a-dump-on-my-desk tape. [A 
constituent at a nearby table offers Andre a 
glass of beer] Oh, no thank you. I'm detoxing. 
I'm going straightedge for two months. And 
then it's crystal meth come Christmastime. 
It'll be acrystal-meth Christmas! 

PLAYBOY: Presidents Trump, Clinton and 
Kennedy, to name a few, have gotten into 
trouble for alleged affairs. Do you anticipate 
past infidelities being a problem for you? 
ANDRE: I anticipate them being a solution. 
Tax dollars will be spent on my personal sex- 
ual needs—with transients, drifters and 
freight-train-ridin' hobos with their lunch on 
abandanna hanging off the end of a stick. 
PLAYBOY: What do you hope to accomplish 
in your first 100 days as president? 


ANDRE: ОБ, getting out of work as much as possible. I won't even 
move to Washington, D.C. ГП just do a Ferris Bueller: buy a manne- 
quin and a cantaloupe, paint my face on it and put it on marionette 
ropes in the Oval Office. I'll have a recording of Ronald Reagan 
snoring so people think I'm at my desk. 

PLAYBOY: What are your thoughts on God? 

ANDRE: Not a damn thing. I worship Satan, I practice the dark 
arts, and I own a Ouija board. 

PLAYBOY: Is the Ouija board going to factor into your decision- 
making as president? 

ANDRE: Yeah. If I'm president, I'm going to throw pagan men- 
strual blood at Stonehenge. That's how I'll pick my winning lottery 
numbers. 

PLAYBOY: What's your message to the chil- 

dren of America? 

ANDRE: Don't listen to your parents. 

They're fuckin' out to get you, man. They're 

out to kill your buzz, bro. 

PLAYBOY: And finally, are you concerned 

that the demands and exposure that come 

with the job will affect your family? 

ANDRE: I don't know. Граивев| Leave me 

alone! That'd be great if someone was on the 

campaign trail and just kept saying, "Leave 

me alone!” 


XO DI WW3H 3ILSPIHO Ad AHdVADOLOHd 


А тате look inside 
America's antifascist 
movement—the 
people, the methods 
and the struggle to 
find a clear voice in 
a deafening world 


When I call Gregory McKelvey and 
Kathryn Stevens, they’re in the 


midst of an alternately quiet and 
cacophonous Saturday afternoon 
typical to young parents. The Port- 
land, Oregon-based pair, interra- 
cial and in their late 20s, plan to 
be married next year. Thankful 
one of their two babies is asleep, Stevens breast-feeds the other during 
our interview. Neither parent comes across as a domestic terrorist. 

But McKelvey and Stevens are involved with antifa—a decentral- 
ized network of leftists representing various belief systems and 
tactics, united only in their opposition to nationalists and white 
supremacists—and as such they inhabit the same category as the 
Unabomber and Timothy McVeigh. Or they would, if senators Ted 
Cruz and Bill Cassidy had succeeded last summer in designating 
the movement a domestic terrorist group. (Regarding the senators’ 
efforts, President Trump tweeted, “Major consideration is being 
given to naming ANTIFA an ‘ORGANIZATION OF TERROR. ”) 

McKelvey tells me that despite frequent threats to his family, show- 
ing up for antifa actions is something he and Stevens feel they must 
do. “I think it helps people to see a successful family defending anti- 
fascists, because those people often can’t defend themselves.” 

Stevens adds, “When it was just Greg and me, it was easier to say, 
‘Threaten us all you want. I’m not scared of you.’ But now, with two 
babies, it’s not okay at all. I haven’t hurt anybody, and I have no 
intention of hurting anyone, so why would you threaten my family? 
It’s solely because of our political beliefs.” 


sy DONOVAN FARLEY 


Perhaps the problem lies in pinpointing 
what those beliefs are, how the movement 
acts on them and whom the movement 
consists of in the first place. 

That confusion has often led to fear 

and anger, exacerbated by antifascists' 
use of anonymity as a defense against ar- 
rest and doxxing—though doxxing is also 
one of antifa's tactics. Notwithstanding 
recent efforts to raise this shroud of se- 
crecy, including non-anonymous inter- 
views with outlets such as Rolling Stone 
(and this one), anonymity has allowed a 
group of loosely connected activists to be 
demonized by members of the far right 
and, increasingly, centrists and moderate 
Democrats. As we stagger toward the 2020 
election, antifa finds itself at a crossroads: 
Can it succeed, or even survive, without 
taking up the very tools its opponents have 
wielded to such ruthless effect? 
I've studied Portland's antifa community 
since it came to prominence in the wake 
of the 2016 election, and I've reported on 
several protests and actions in that time. 
I can't claim total impartiality, in large 
part because many of my friends and 
neighbors are involved in the movement, 
but I can say I've observed antifa's victo- 
ries and dysfunctions at close range. It's 
the movement's unique position in Amer- 
ican culture—how it works, how it's per- 
ceived and the gaping blind spot between 
the two—that I've set out to explore. 

For this story I interviewed a dozen 
or so antifa activists, who gave me new 
insights into the range of their meth- 
ods, from electoral campaigns to, yes, 


PLAYBOY 59 


street confrontations. Although monitoring far-right groups online 
is a crucial part of the movement's work, I'm more interested in its 
public-facing efforts—the attempts to puncture the antifa stereotype, 
reveal the sprawling community beneath and loudly voice the mes- 
sage uniting them all: Hate requires active and direct confrontation. 

But learning more about antifa requires a treacherous journey 
through its internal and external challenges. And you can't get a 
more potent demonstration of those challenges than a string of 
events, briefly violent and wholly absurd, that unfolded last summer. 

On May 1, 2019, writer, Twitter personality and occasional Fox 
News commentator Andy Ngo was videotaped by an undercover 
antifascist who had embedded with the far-right organization Patriot 
Prayer. (A Portland grand jury later used the video to indict several 
Patriot Prayer members.) In it, Ngo appears to smile while others 
make plans to attack a Portland cidery known to be an antifa hang- 
out. According to reports, the ensuing incident left a woman with a 
broken vertebra after a man hit her with a baton. Ngo would then dox 
the injured woman as she lay in the hospital; she reportedly awoke to 
а cavalcade of death threats. 

For this, plus previous instances of what some consider Islamo- 
phobia and misinformation on his social accounts, Ngo became fair 
game in the minds of some antifascists. (In an op-ed, he pushed back 
against the allegations of Islamophobia.) On June 29, at a Portland 
rally organized by Patriot Prayer, he was punched and kicked by anti- 
fascists in black clothes and masks, who then stole the stunned writ- 
er's GoPro. Overnight, Ngo morphed from a fringe figure to a national 
sympathy case who received nearly $195,000 from a GoFundMe orga- 
nized by conservative commentator Michelle Malkin. 


60 


If only that were the end of the story. 

The rally landed at the end of Pride 
Month, and the antifa group PopMob (short 
for Popular Mobilization) had organized a 
massive dance party for queer people and 
their allies to oppose the Proud Boys and 
other organizations that had joined in with 
Patriot Prayer. In a move reminiscent of re- 
cent antifascist actions in the U.K., PopMob 
decided to bring vegan coconut milkshakes. 
Antifa activists hit Ngo with multiple 
shakes, and Portland police, acting on a 
tip, tweeted, “Police have received infor- 
mation that some ofthe milkshakes thrown 
today during the demonstration contained 
quick-drying cement." This tweet, which at 
press time is still on the department's offi- 
cial Twitter page and has more than 13,000 
retweets and 25,000 likes, has yet to be sub- 
stantiated by a single piece of evidence. 

“We definitely weren't advocating throw- 
ing them at people," says Effie Baum, a 
fourth-year graduate student and member 
of PopMob, “but we weren't naive enough 
to think it might not happen." Baum, who 
uses they/them pronouns, laughs tiredly at 
the suggestion that the shakes contained 
any sort of hardening agent. They point 
out, as many have, that PopMob would 
have been risking the murder of hundreds 
of people had they laced the drinks. This 
did not stop Fox News from reporting that 
“the so-called ‘milkshakes’ reportedly 
contained quick-drying cement, pepper 
spray and raw eggs." The attention resulted 
in Baum receiving hundreds of violent 
threats from around the country. 

It's no surprise that the Ngo incident 
played well with the Fox audience, but 
CNN's Jake Tapper took it upon himself 
to retweet a video of Ngo post-punch with 
the caption "Antifa regularly attacks jour- 
nalists; it's reprehensible." (The "attacks" 
he posted included an egg being tossed, a 
camera cord being cut and University of 
Virginia students yelling at a journalist.) 
Tapper's colleague John Berman invited 
Ngo on his show. Neither anchor brought 
up Ngo's history of posting false or mis- 
leading statements on his Twitter account. 

So—an attempt at peaceful protest was 
compromised by a moment of violence at 


Ше hands of ostensible allies; that violence 
was pounced on bythe opposition and swiftly 
turned into a narrative that was amplified by 
law enforcement and major media outlets. 

The antifascists involved didn't have the 

media apparatus in place to combat the dis- 
information (though Baum tried), and a 
major opportunity to correct the record—to 
proclaim that antifa is not a pack of extrem- 
ist hooligans—was lost in a fog of tweets and 
sound bites. 
The antifascist activists I interviewed for this 
piece are eager to change the perception of the 
movement and spoke with me knowing they 
would receive torrents of threats for doing 
so. The vast majority of antifascist work con- 
sists, they tell me, not of black masks, street 
clashes and weaponized milkshakes but of 
behind-the-scenes organizing and countless 
hours spent observing far-right communica- 
tion channels. 

People who do antifascist work are not, by 
and large, participants in the so-called black 
bloc, whose masks and sometimes aggressive 
presence at rallies are a magnet for media at- 
tention. Antifascists are doctors, parents and 
baristas. They're your neighbors. There are so 
many grandmothers involved in antifascist 
actions in Portland alone that they have their 
own organization, complete with monthly 
meetings and a Facebook page. At the Occupy 
ICE PDX protests last June, directly in front 
of federal agents dressed in riot gear and hold- 
ing rifles sat a row of grannies. One of them 
was knitting. 

So why has antifascism become demonized 
by the right and shunned by the left? Much 
of the answer lies in the movement's ano- 
nymity and disdain for figureheads. Groups 
like Patriot Prayer and the Proud Boys, 
along with their admirers in the media and 
Washington, D.C., have cultivated a stable 
of big personalities and a knack for messag- 
ing that has served them well under Presi- 
dent Trump, allowing them to shape their 
own narrative and that of antifascism. In 
the social-media age, when information (and 
misinformation) travels the world in the 
blink of an eye, the messaging effort is often 
as important as the message itself. It's not 
enough to be on the right side of history; you 
have to be on the right side of those reading 


өө 


Going out 

in the streets 
(5 only about 
10 percent of 
what we do.” 


and writing that history. While the far right has flourished, antifas- 
cists have painted themselves into a lonely corner by shunning the 
press and the centrist public. 

Lucky for them, the press isn't the only tool at their disposal. 

"I feel a responsibility to change the public discourse around 
antifascism, absolutely, says Sarah Iannarone, a 2020 candi- 
date for mayor of Portland. (Her campaign is helmed by McKelvey.) 
Iannarone is a mother who has spent her professional life trying to 
make urban spaces greener and more livable, often traveling the 
world to discuss policy. She's aware that her open support of antifas- 
cism will mark her for threats and violence—and possibly cost her 
political capital—but she feels duty-bound to the cause. 

“Our society's lack of awareness and understanding of the issue is 
extremely disappointing to me," she says. “Весалве this problem ex- 
ists within the system, it's important we use radical tactics—though I 
definitely think electoral politics matter, and that's why I'm running." 

Iannarone's belief that antifascism should engage with mainstream 
polities is shared by many of the activists I interviewed; it's one of the 
reasons they spoke openly with me. These attitudes represent a shift 
in tactics within a movement that has traditionally been suspicious of 
the electoral process. Along with a nascent openness to the press, this 
approach could go a long way toward correcting the rampant misin- 
formation against them. 

PopMob's Baum represents a more counterintuitive strain of the 
"radical tactics" Iannarone mentioned. Over the past year, PopMob 
and its allies have sought to combat both the far right's endeavors 
and antifa's messaging problems through resistance theatrics, using 
marching bands to drown out loudspeakers and recently launching 
the “Вапапа Bloc," wherein roughly 40 activists dressed in banana 
suits and armed with brass instruments led a parade of about 100 
people to protest a Proud Boys rally. 

Baum points to community building and organizing as Pop- 
Mob's central aim. In March 2019, after a series of attacks be- 
fell Portland's LGBTQ community, PopMob rapidly put together 
an event attended by about 600 people, featuring self-defense and 
community-awareness lessons. The organizers handed out more 
than 1,000 whistles, flashlights and self-defense key chains. 

“I volunteered because I wanted to change attitudes," Baum says. 
"Going out in the streets is only about 10 percent of what we do." 


Tine people who 
are open about 
сле involvement 
need to change 
their rhetoric, 
оесацзе right 
now were 
oringing а knife 
го а gunfight." 


Opening раде: Margaret 
“Peggy” Zebroski. 
Previous spread: Gregory 


McKelvey and Kathryn 
Stevens. This page, 
clockwise from left: 
Jacob Bureros, Effie Baum 
and Olivia Katbi Smith. 


PLAYBOY 63 


Boston Police Patrolmen's Association, 
informed readers that, when dealing 
with antifascists, “the only way to defeat 
these savages is to fight fire with fire.” 
The piece went on to equate antifascism 
with Nazism. 

“The problem, of course, is with that 
blanket statement,” says Norm Stamper, 
Seattle's police chief during the 1999 
World Trade Organization protests, which 
helped give rise to Occupy Wall Street and 
much of the modern protest movement. 
(Stamper has repeatedly voiced his regrets 
at the heavy-handedness with which his 
department responded tothe massive pro- 
test.) “It's just plain wrong, and it's dan- 
gerous and ridiculous to think that way. 

“Law enforcement has a responsibil- 
Пу to protect everyone at a protest—or a 
counterprotest—no matter what they're 
saying or what they believe,” he adds. “It's 
extremely difficult at times, but that's the 
job we signed up for.” 

Of the domestic-terrorist designation 
and its ties to policing, he says, “There is 
a fascist thread working its way through 
the body politic, and its head cheerleader 
is Donald Trump. His diehard followers 
would absolutely use such a designation 
to force law enforcement to help further 
their political cause, which is antitheti- 
cal to what law enforcement is ostensibly 
all about.” 

Of course, quasi-fascism and Pax Cen- 
turion don't begin to speak for all law 
enforcement, and the rare instances of 
antifa affiliates hurling various projec- 
tiles their way are further steps away from 
antifa's core message. (The antifa slogan 
“АП cops are bastards”—or ACAB—while 
not equivalent to Pax Centurion's claims, 
isn't helping either.) Activists say their 
anger arises with good reason and that 
they're often left to fend for themselves 
when attacked. In Portland, instances 
of overzealous policing include shooting 
nonlethal rounds into crowds of peaceful 
protesters, resulting in devastating head 
injuries; charging groups of black bloc 
antifascists, regular citizens and jour- 
nalists alike (myself included); striking 
civilians with batons while driving them 
toward downtown traffic; and dispropor- 
tionately arresting leftist protesters. 

Which brings us back to black bloc— 
a small and often messy faction but an 
integral one. In January 2019, Patriot 
Prayer attempted to storm a Democratic 
Socialists of America meeting at Port- 
land's Industrial Workers of the World 
union office. Portland DSA co-chair 
Olivia Katbi Smith wasn't there that 


night, but she's been present for many similar Patriot Ргауег- 
led incursions. 

"It's incredibly frustrating when they do things like try to in- 
vade our meetings," Katbi Smith says. Reflecting on black bloc's 
greater significance, she adds, “People still wonder why we 
need the black bloc out there. That's exactly why. They put their 
bodies on the line for us." 

When I ask McKelvey about the future of the movement, he re- 
plies without hesitation. 

"Antifascism sure as hell has a PR problem," he says. 

He goes on, and his words suggest an outline of how the move- 
ment might finally find a voice to meet that of the roaring far 
right: ^These elements that Trump has inspired to come out of 
the woodwork aren't going anywhere regardless of what hap- 
pens next year, so antifascists aren't either. We need to make it 
okay for people to say they support antifascism, including peo- 
ple in all levels of government. We're going to need people in the 
streets forever, but the people who are open about their involve- 
ment need to change their rhetoric, because right now we're 
bringing a knife to a gunfight." 

Even if antifa coheres into a force strong enough to shift 
American culture away from the fears and hatred that continue 
to work their way into the mainstream, I can't help but think 
about the effect all that visibility could have on McKelvey and 
Stevens's family. 

"Even with the kids?" I ask. 

"Our kids," says Stevens, "are one of the reasons we're out 
there." 


PLAYBOY 65 


РНОТОСКАРНУ ВҮ КЕМА АММЕ 


Q1: Orange Is the New Black gave you your most notable role to 
date—Maritza Ramos, one of Litchfield Penitentiary's original inmates. 
On the show's final season, which debuted on Netflix in July, Ramos 
is deported to Colombia, mirroring what happened to your parents 
nearly two decades ago, when you were 14 years old. How did you 


prepare for those scenes? 


What makes a super- 
hero? A voice, a cause 
and a will to change 
the world. The actress- 
activist, who headlines 
the HBO Max premiere 
of DC's Doom Patrol, 
has all three and isn't 


GUERRERO: I didn't have to look far to 
understand what it would be like for my 
character to be in jail once again, to be 
taken away. I know what that's like. My 
mom was taken in handcuffs to the air- 
port and loaded up on a plane. It's some- 
thing I've lived with my entire life. It's 
desperate; it's lonely. So I tried to go back 
to that time. Honestly, because of the 
work I'm doing today, I'm back there all 
the time. It was cathartic. 

Q2: So it wasn't retraumatizing? 
GUERRERO: No, no, no. What's re- 
traumatizing is knowing that some fuck- 
ing guy went to a Walmart and shot up 


backing down 


ву SAMANTA HELOU HERNANDEZ 


people because he thought there was an 
invasion of Mexicans, because of what 
our president has said. That's retrauma- 
tizing. That instills fear in me that my 
life can be taken away at any time. Por- 
traying it artistically, or even retelling 
my story, as hard as that is at times, isa 
means to an end. That's not retraumatizing. 

Q3: You revealed your parents' deportation in a 2014 op-ed piece 
in the Los Angeles Times, and in 2016 you released a memoir, In the 
Country We Love, about growing up in the U.S. without them. What 
motivated you to share your story and become an activist for immi- 
gration reform? 

GUERRERO: My career was moving very fast, but I felt I wasn't 
being honest. I felt deceitful not speaking about something that 
was very real to me. The issue of immigration was being tossed 
around inaccurately, and Trump was using the immigrant com- 
munity as a scapegoat. What do you do when your community is 
flat-out labeled as rapists and murderers, and people run with 
that narrative? I couldn't offer a general response as a person of 
color, as a brown woman. I had to be like, *Yo, as a child of a sepa- 
rated family, as a child coming from a marginalized community 
that often experiences incarceration...I'm speaking to you as a 
child who lived all of this." I wanted people to look at me, see me 
and know what the fuck I’m about. 

Q4: How did you find a space to inhabit in this country? 

GUERRERO: If your circumstances bring you to a place where 
someone has to be charitable to you, you develop a habit of want- 
ing to be invincible out of needing to appease folks. I got to the 
point of wanting to kill myself; that's how invincible I wanted 
to get. I had to see a therapist, who told me that it was okay to 
want things and to have dreams. I had to change the way I was 
programmed by reciting affirmations that I was worthy. That's 
how I began, little by little, to take up space again. But it's a work 
in progress. I work every day to not shrink myself, to allow myself 
to speak freely in places I'm scared to speak. 

Q5: In August you told Vanity Fair that you feared becoming a 


^poster child of deportation." Do you feel 
that you have? 

GUERRERO: No, I don't. I thought people 
were trying to pigeonhole me. In reality, 
only you can pigeonhole yourself. Only 
you can allow people to put you in a box. 
I am who I am. I care about what I care 
about. I'm strong in my convictions. I dic- 
tate my future. I dictate my outcome. De- 
portation, what happened to my family, 
is a sliver of who I am and what has hap- 
pened to me. I have much more to say, 
much more to contribute. 

Об: In 2015 you were named to the Obama 
administration's inaugural class of Presi- 
dential Ambassadors for Citizenship and 
Naturalization, which aimed to promote nat- 
uralization among some 8 million qualified 
people. But some immigration groups have 
called Barack Obama the "deporter in chief." 
How is what's happening now under Presi- 
dent Donald Trump different from what hap- 
pened under the previous administration? 
GUERRERO: The rhetoric isn't the same. 
Look, the Obama administration deported 


PLAYBOY 6/ 


68 200 


People need each 
other. They need 
their families. That's 
what the American 
дгеат is all about. 


alot of families, but Obama also tried to 
implement immigration reform, and 
he was shut down. Не didn't have Ше 
Senate and the House. He tried to enact 
an executive order and it was blocked 
by the courts. He was on his own. I un- 
derstand that. I'm not at all saying that 
separating families is okay. He just 
didn't have the support. 

Q7: Your advocacy includes volunteering 
with the Immigrant Legal Resource Cen- 
ter and sitting on the board of directors 
of Mi Familia Vota, an organization that 
promotes civic engagement. What does 
common-sense immigration reform look 
like to you? 

GUERRERO: We update the visa system. 
Have we tried to set up a path to citi- 
zenship for people who are here, who 
have been here for years and who have 
supported the economy? No. Reform 
involves repealing laws that are hurt- 
ing people. It means coming up with 
ways to keep our borders secure but 
which also create a new way forward. 
It does not mean deporting 11 million 
people and collapsing our economy. 
Immigration and Customs Enforce- 
ment is a relatively new thing. We don't 
need ICE. We don't need another agency going after families, 
putting them in jail solely to have higher body counts in these 
centers. We don't need to be putting money into this agency. Im- 
migration is not a crime. 

A lot of immigrant families are taken advantage of because we 
don't know our rights. I joined Ше Immigrant Legal Resource 
Center because it focuses on education. As soon as I educated my- 
self, I felt more powerful. I could give information to folks and di- 
rect them in a healthier way. Compare that to my parents, who 
hired the first bozo who offered to help them with their visas. The 
immigration system is convoluted and made for people to misun- 
derstand. I just try to be a portal for information and get it out 
there to the folks who need it. 

Q8: Speaking of ICE, in August, on the first day of school, authori- 


ties arrested 680 people suspected of work- 
ing in the country illegally across seven 
Mississippi food-processing plants. Videos 
of children crying made Ше rounds online 
and sparked debates about coverage of this 
issue. Some argue that it's important for the 
public to see this kind of imagery. Others 
deem it exploitative and a form of trauma 
porn. What's your take? 

GUERRERO: People need to see it. Hon- 
estly, it was the first time Isaw an image 
of what I felt like the day I came home 
and my folks weren’t there. I don’t know 
if I felt validated, because it’s difficult 


saying that; І know these kids аге suffer- 
ing. But I felt like that's what I've been 
trying to tell people. That's what it feels 
like. It's your first day of school. You love 
your parents. You wish they were there 
with you. We need to continue sharing 
images like those. I go through a lot not 
having my parents here. They're getting 
older. I'm getting older. I'm missing a lot 
of their milestones, and they're missing 
mine. That stunts your growth, in a way. 
People need each other. They need their 
families. That's what the fucking Ameri- 
can dream is all about. 

Q9: Do you still believe in the American dream? 
GUERRERO: Of course. There are so many 
great things about this country and so 
many opportunities to be had. Equality 
for all and justice for all: That's the Amer- 
ican dream I want to live, where everyone 
is treated fairly, where families are able to 
stay together, where this country provides 
what it promises for all families—not just 
white families and the families at the top. 
That's what I'm working toward. I mean, 
what else am I going to do? 

Q10: 15 it possible for your parents to come 
back to the U.S. legally? 

GUERRERO: I would love for them to. This 
is where it all began. This is where our life 
started, and I would like to finish it here 
with them. 

Q11: You play Crazy Jane on DC's TV series 
Doom Patrol, whose second season pre- 
mieres on HBO Max this spring. Crazy Jane 
experiences childhood trauma and develops 
superpowers as a result. What superpowers 
have you developed? 

GUERRERO: Becoming someone else. 
Here's an example: In college, I told 
someone that my parents were business 
owners, that they were in Colombia on 
a business venture and I was just here 
studying political science because I was 
interested in social justice and wanted to 
become a lawyer. The real reason I wanted 
to become a lawyer was so I could bring 
my parents back. In terms of relating to 
Jane, when she allows herself to work with 
others and surrender to community, she 
finds light in that. It's similar to when 
I surrender to my feelings and working 
with others and my community. 

Q12: Have you ever felt tokenized in your 
career? 

GUERRERO: Yeah, in auditions for ^Drug 
Dealer Girlfriend Number One" and 
“Maid Number Two." That still happens. 
That's why being on Doom Patrol and get- 
ting the role of Crazy Jane has meant so 
much to me. To have a Latinx land a role 
normally reserved for a white person? 


PLAYBOY 69 


Latinxs aren't allowed to be superheroes. It's Ше strangest thing 
that we can't be seen in fantasy situations. Only white people can 
be in fantasies? Only white people can be superheroes? That's 
fucking preposterous. 

Q13: Crazy Jane also has dissociative identity disorder. There aren't 
many pop-culture representations of mental health issues in Latinx 
communities. You've struggled with depression, right? 

GUERRERO: Hey, we have mental health issues. This happens 
in our community. This needs to be looked at. If that goes over- 
looked, that person is going to spend a long time trying to figure 
itout. Who knows where they may or may not end up? What if my 
parents had seen a show or movie where they talked about that? 
We are so informed by what we watch and what's out there and 
available to us. That's why we have to fight to be in these spaces. 
014: Describe a moment when you realized what П means to be 
Latinx in Hollywood. 

GUERRERO: І mean, just go out there and try to get a job. Get 
a job, and then try to get paid as much as your counterparts. 
That's when you realize you're not on the same playing field. 
Or you think you have an opportunity to work with a producer 
who says they're interested in your story, or interested in tell- 
ing more immigration stories or stories that impact the Latinx 
community, and then you get an e-mail from this person and it 
starts with, “Hey, babe." That's when you realize, “Oh, lam a 
woman. I am a brown woman." This is still going on, and that's 
still something have to fight. 

015: Singing, not acting, was your introduction to performing. What 
does music signify to you? 

GUERRERO: It's how I stay alive, man. I love singing. I haven't 
done it in a professional setting yet, but it's coming. Music has 
saved me. It's the way I connect to my ancestry, to my family. 
Every Sunday, my family used to put on music, clear out the fur- 
niture and dance in the living room. What those songs were say- 
ing meant something. 

Q16: Like many Latinx people born in the 1980s, you listened to a lot 
of Selena growing up. What does she represent to you? 

GUERRERO: She represented the new Latin American, right? A 
person who was connected to her culture and could express her- 
self so deeply but could also be very American—a mash-up of two 
beautiful things. It's what I've always considered myself: a mash- 
up of everything wonderful. I could speak Spanish. I could enjoy 
all these beauties that my culture offered, like music, dance, food 
and language. But I could also enjoy American music, American 
food and American customs. I could fucking bring those all to- 
gether and just be a superhero. 

Q17: What's your favorite Selena song? 

GUERRERO: “Мо Me Queda Más," of course. The most intense, 
just mad emo song. 

Q18: You've said that growing up you tried to be the good girl 
to the point of harming yourself if you thought you were sinning. 
You're now perceived to be a sex symbol. When did you embrace 
your sexuality? 

GUERRERO: It wasn't until very recently. I’ve always been sex- 
ual, but it was once something I tried to hide because I was 
afraid of falling into the stereotype of the sexualized Latina 
who thought she could get anywhere with her sexuality or fuck 


her way out of any situation. I have been 
able to fuck myself out of a couple of situ- 
ations, but that is not my go-to. My go-to 
is my brain and my heart and what I've 
learned from my family and community. 
That is how I've gotten ahead. 

Q19: Do you feel your activism has ever been 
discounted because of your sex appeal? 
GUERRERO: Latinas especially are not al- 
lowed to be sexual and smart at the same 
time. It wasn't until after I wrote my book 
that I allowed myself to feel sexy and say, 
"Fuck it. I don't care what you say about 
my breasts. I don't care about what you 
say about how I look." Being comfort- 
able with my sexuality is a part of me and 
in the message I want to give to people 
about loving themselves. It all goes into 
how I felt about my brown skin growing 
up, feeling that it was ugly or less than. 
“А wide nose—your indigenous nose—is 
ugly. Your brown eyes aren't as interest- 
ing as blue ones." Shut off the noise that 
tells you you're not good enough or white 
enough, that your sexy is bad, that your 
sexy is crass in some way. 

Q20: When do you feel most alive? 
GUERRERO: When I'm singing or dancing. 
When I'm experiencing music through 
my veins. When I'm eating my mother's 
food. When those beans hit my mouth 
and just, I know what that is. It's life, you 
know? A life force for the heart. E 


PLAYBOY 


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PLAYBOY /3 


РЕАУМАТЕ 


JANUARY 


January Playmate Riley Ticotin has 
acted (with J.Lo), danced (with cas- 
tanets) and earned a black belt in 
karate (watch out for the nunchucks). 
But her greatest strengths are far 
more profound—and inspiring 


To me, equality means equal representation. In this indus- 
try, the conventions we see over and over give power to that lit- 
tle voice in your head that tells you you're not enough: not thin 
enough, not blonde enough, not good enough. Regardless of eth- 
nic background, size, height or style, you should never be told 
you don't belong because you aren't the right "fit." Everyone be- 
longs. Everyone fits. 

I was raised on the border of Agoura and Calabasas—the infa- 
mous Calabasas, thanks to the Kardashians, but where I grew up 
is nothing like that. It was really chill: flips-flops and jean shorts 
all day, all year long. My parents put me in karate class when I 
was a toddler, and when I was a little older my mom put me in 
flamenco dance classes—castanets and heels one night, gis and 
belts the next! I haven't had much occasion to use my black belt, 
but whipping out nunchucks is still my favorite party trick. 

Both my parents work in the movie industry, so like everyone 
else in L.A., I said, “I'm going to be an actress when I grow up!" I 
started to go on auditions and landed my first job at 15, in a Gil- 
lette Venus razor commercial. It wasn't till Га booked the job that 
I learned J.Lo was going to star in it. That was next level—a little 
Puerto Rican girl in southern California in a commercial with 
Jennifer Lopez, the Puerto Rican queen! 

So I started my career on a high note—but about six months 
later, I had a stylist tell me I was too fat and she couldn't dress 
me. That was before I could even vote for president. 

Back then, I was going to all these castings with really skinny 
girls, and I wasn't booking the jobs. I wasn't them. When I turned 


74 


18 апа officially became а сигуу model, I thought, Why didn't 
anyone offer me this in the beginning? Why was straight-size 
modeling the only way? Being a curvy model is not an “alter- 
native,” like, “Oh, I tried to be skinny, but I gained weight and 
couldn't lose it, so І became a plus model.” It's a natural size, and 
it's just as great as any other. I love seeing so many more girls in 
the game now. You can just be a curvy model, without doing the 
whole “I starved myself and it didn't work" thing. 

Yes, things have changed, but the industry still has a long way 
to go—with race just as much as body type. When I go to castings, 
I'm always told I'm not Latina enough or I'm not white enough 
because I'm mixed race. It's frustrating that Hollywood still ad- 
heres to stereotypes when imagining a role. My sister, who still 
acts, says, "All my auditions are for super-sexy and kinkster 
characters, and I have to speak in Spanish or with a Spanish ac- 
cent." We didn't grow up speaking Spanish at home. My sister 
failed Spanish class! 

Every day I'm on set, someone wonders aloud about my ethnic- 
ity. When they ask, ^Where is your family from?" I say, “Атег- 
ica.” When they ask, “What are you?" I just say, "Human." 

Taking what Гуе learned in the industry, I'd love to someday be- 
come an art director or a casting director. That being said, there's 
still alot I'd like to accomplish as a model, because there's power 
in representation. I never thought it was important for someone 
like me to be in PLAYBOY, but I hope some 15-year-old girl, crying 
because she doesn't look like what she sees in the media, sees me 
and says, "I'm okay." 


w... 


mas, 


a. 


w. 


= 


DATA SHEET 


BIRTHPLACE: Calabasas, California CURRENT CITY: New York City, New York 


ON ROLE MODELS 


l've admired Frida Kahlo ever since | 
got my bachelor's degree in art his- 
tory. At first | fell in love with her use of 
color, but as | learned about the trials 
and tribulations of her life, | found her 
whole journey really inspiring. She was 
unapologetically herself. 


ON OPTIMISM 


| just finished The Myth of Sisyphus 
by Albert Camus. Since then, my per- 
spective on life has changed entirely. 
Even though we don't necessarily be- 
lieve that Sisyphus enjoys constantly 
pushing a boulder up a hill, | imagine 
him as happy. That was his task, and 
it worked out for him. Everything will 
work out; everything is fine. 


ON GUILTY PLEASURES 


I'm obsessed with Love Island, the 
U.K. version. l'm so deep into it, | find 
that I’m starting to use their slang. I'm 


saying things like "Oh man, he really 
mugged me off!” And | have to remind 
myself, You're from California, Riley. 
You can't say that. 


ON FANGIRL FAVORITES 


Їтп obsessed with Rosalía. | was listen- 
ing to her before she really made it 
big. When she came out hip-hopping 
to flamenco, | thought, This is amaz- 
ing. | literally learned the choreog- 
raphy to her music videos. | haven't 
done that since | was obsessed with 
Britney Spears as a kid. 


ON SIGNS 


І dont know if you've picked up on 
it, but I’m very Sagittarius. We like to 
travel, learn and do our own thing. I’m 
independent almost to a fault; being 
a “team player” is not really my strong 
suit. Some of my friends may tell you 
'm a sore loser, but | just prefer to 
operate solo. 


ON FEAR 


| hate lizards. І really hate lizards. Any 
lizard, even the small ones in Califor- 
nia that scurry past you on the side- 
walk. Just the thought of the m—I have 
goose bumps on my arms now. 


ON ART 


| could talk about 17th century baroque 
paintings— specifically the differences 
between Dutch, French and Italian 
baroque paintings—for hours! That's 
what | wrote my thesis on in college. 


ON GOALS 


Another college fun fact: | really 
wanted to be a spy. | thought, | have a 
martial arts background, lm ethnically 
ambiguous, | can learn Chinese.... My 
friends joke that modeling could be 
my spy cover story. Or maybe it already 
is—l wouldn't be allowed to say. Maybe 
Im the first Playmate spy—or maybe 
I'm not even the first! 


PLAYBOY 8/ 


etos ^C 


“Ал 
E 

ar 

Y n 

^ хүй и D 


>e. 


2 
2 
1 


Маза“ 5 


үл dine ЗА 


31VWAV'Id 0207 АМУПМУГ 


MAIS OUI, ІТ WAS 


АМ AFFAIR FOR THE AGES— 


MIDDLE AND OLD 


FICTION BY 


CLAIRE LOMBARDO 


Technically speaking, һе was old enough to be her father, but 
she'd always preferred a looser interpretation of things. Wiggle 
room, either/or, mucking around in the gray areas. Janey of the 
variegated existential guidelines. Prickle of his appreciative 
gaze, brief argument about the definition of variegated. An elec- 
tric fence surrounded her memories of those days. 

He appeared only vaguely fatherly when he arrived at her door 
that May morning: clean-shaven skull, scruff everywhere else; 
ambiguously licentious smile; thinner than she remembered. 
Thinner than she. 

"I suppose I buried the lede,” she said, blushing, smiling, look- 
ing down. She hadn't been able to bring herself to tell him over 
the phone. 

“Janey,” he said. “Well, God, you're beautiful.” He reached 
for her hand, still standing on the front stoop. “Who's in there? 
When's she arriving?” 

“A girl,” she validated. “Mid-July.” 

“Mazel tov,” he said, leaning in, kissing her cheek. There was 
something about her bulge that made all of this okay, allowed 
them to be more openly intimate than they'd ever been. She was 
a marked woman, had that strange virginal aura despite the con- 
trary implications of her belly. She felt her face heating up; she 
was unaccustomed to his boldness. “Why on earth did you say I 
could stay here, then?” he asked. “You're nesting. You're prepar- 
ing for new life.” 

“I can multitask,” she said. 

He smiled at her. "T've missed you." 

If she wanted, she could have ridden on the vibes of this for 

weeks. 
It isn't some sordid, twisted tale of fatherless teen falling for 
comely-and-sex-starved vaguely paternal figure. She is 24 when 
it happens, and it doesn't end up being much of anything in the 
long run, not by cinematic standards. 

She answers an ad that Clara has placed in the lobby of the 
World Literature department office: Seeking date-night sit- 
ter. Her rent has just been raised, and Clara has nice, temperate 
handwriting, and she is seized with the notion that maybe caring 
for young children will make her feel like more of an adult. 

Clara is a professor of French literature, and her husband, 
Charlie, is a playwright. Their boys, at the time, are lanky 
charming moppets, ages seven and 12. Jane drifts easily into 
their lives. Gus likes to cuddle with her in his bed before he falls 
asleep, listening to her tell outlandish stories about dogs who 
are employed as doctors and secretaries. Léo sits with her at 
the kitchen table after his little brother goes to bed, telling her 
about his extracurricular geology club and the trip he's trying 
to get his parents to take them on to Alaska. Clara and Charlie 
return from their dates in high spirits, bringing a warm, boozy 
breeze with them as they enter through the kitchen. Once, 
Charlie offers Jane his leftovers and Clara swats at his shoulder 
with her handbag. 

“That's repulsive,” she says and hands over an elaborately 
boxed mousse she has ordered specifically for Jane. Her foresight 
touches Jane deeply. 

Translators of French literature, 


even those who are 


ILLUSTRATION BY SPIROS HALARIS 


world-renowned, are not a particularly affluent breed—and nei- 
ther, of course, are playwrights—but they both come from some 
modest family money, and everything about their life strikes 
Jane as impossibly glamorous, their palatial old house and their 
quiet shiny cars and their skin that seems to stay subtly bronzed 
even through the eight annual months of Chicago gray. 

At this point, it has been six years since Jane's father moved 
to Ojai to marry a meticulously coiffed kindergarten teacher 
and two years since she has returned home to visit her mother, 
a corporate litigator with a penchant for chenin blanc and ver- 
bal abuse. She is well aware that she is a textbook case of some- 
thing but chooses not to examine things too closely. She is 
pursuing a Ph.D. in contemporary German literature, a field in 
which she is largely unaccompanied. She lives in a one-bedroom 
fifth-floor walk-up in Pilsen, a neighborhood that has yet to be 
gentrified by the proximate university and one in which she 
is afraid to walk alone at night. Charlie gives her a ride home 
when she babysits late, and it doesn't occur to her until later 
that this is an unusually illogical arrangement for Charlie and 
Clara, who live 15 miles north of downtown, in Evanston. Hav- 
ing a babysitter you have to drive home kind of defeats the pur- 
pose, but she never really considers Charlie's sobriety either, 
feels utterly safe as they glide along the S curves of Lake Shore 
Drive in his Audi. 

"Tell me your story," he'll say to her warmly, turning down the 
music. 

"I'm the most boring person on the entire earth," she'll reply, 
and he'll smile at her. 

“Nice try. Make it up if you have to." 

So she starts telling him, first embellished theatrical sto- 
ries about her literature classes and the foosball-obsessed man- 
boy she casually dated last year, and then more serious stuff, 
stuff about her parents' divorce, stuff about how lonely things 
feel sometimes. Charlie watches her steadily with placid graph- 
ite eyes, when he's not looking at the road, and sometimes he 
reaches over to pat her shoulder or give her a little hang-in-there 
punch on the thigh. 

Each time he drives her home he sits parked in front of her 

building until she makes it upstairs and flicks her living-room 
lights on and off twice. 
Last month he'd called out of the blue—his voice on the phone 
startled her to such a degree that she'd had to sit down heavily in 
a kitchen chair—and asked if they had a spare room. A confer- 
ence, he said, keynote bullshit somethingorother, and he'd love to 
see her. Three days, two nights. Just a stopover. 

^Of course," she'd said, breathless, and it wasn't until hours 
after they'd ended the call that she realized it would have been 
polite to ask Greg if he minded having a guest. 

During dinner his first night she rose frequently to serve 
them—insistently, because both Charlie and her husband had 
formidable Midwestern manners and Greg kept saying things 
like "Sweetie, you're making me feel like a Neanderthal." But she 
liked it, had always been fond of bustle and motion and order, 
neat rows of plates, even intervals of time between courses, wine 
that flowed freely only to a point. 


PLAYBOY 89 


It was strange to have them Бош at Ше table. Greg was а соп- 
tractor, either the most or least likely mate for a woman who'd 
chosen such a fickle and weirdly intellectual field for herself. 
She'd met him at a friend's birthday party, and his proximity im- 
bued her with an instant calm. He was a straight shooter. He was 
attuned to nuance but often chose to ignore it. She found this to 
be a refreshing change. He was kind to Charlie, a good host, jo- 
vial and inquisitive. Entirely unsuspicious, ostensibly, as Clara 
had been before it all started to go south. 

She came out with a pie she'd baked—this, admittedly, had 
been somewhat of an affectation, because she and Greg never ate 
dessert and she didn't even like pie, but it seemed like an elegant, 
wifely thing to prepare; she'd even cross-hatched the crust, to 
dubious results. 

"Jesus, Janey,” Charlie said. “You realize I'm still wildly un- 
impressive, right? Is there someone else coming over? Who's de- 
serving of this kind of hospitality?" 

"Maybe I am nesting," she said, sitting back down, handing 
Greg a knife, reaching to pour herself an inch of wine. She al- 
lowed herself half a glass once a week. Tonight seemed as good a 
night as any. 

“Tt looks incredible,” Charlie said. “What kind is it?” 

“Apple,” she said, and then, a little self-consciously, “Jonagold. 
With salted caramel." 

“You are not of this world," Charlie said, and before she 
could let the statement permeate her skeleton, Greg spoke up: 
"She's a wonder." 

"She's sitting right here," she said without thinking, unfairly 
hostile, and the look Greg gave her made her feel a sickly guilt low 
in her esophagus. “Sorry,” she said. "Charlie's awakening the la- 
tent unreasonable feminist within." She reached for Greg's hand 
under the table. “Collegiate nostalgia. I'm pining for the times 
when I was much prettier and much dumber.” 

“You weren't that dumb,” Charlie said. 

“You're more beautiful than the day I met you,” Greg said, op- 
pressively kind. 

She reveled a little bit, the tolerantly exasperated mother: 

“Knock it off, both of you.” 
One night the Crosses have her over for dinner and Charlie is 
under the weather so he goes to bed early and she and Clara stay 
up until three on the back porch, drinking wine and listening to 
Curtis Mayfield. 

“I live in a cave,” Clara says, against the ironic backdrop of 
their gorgeous Queen Anne in the middle of the suburban wilder- 
ness. “Testosterone bleeds through the wiring and the founda- 
tion is composed entirely of dirty socks.” She rests her head back 
and Jane watches, rapt by her confidence, her material comfort, 
her existential security. “Hold off while you can,” she continues, 
rolling her wine around at the bottom of her glass. “Go do won- 
derful things first before you do any of this.” 

“This seems kind of wonderful,” Jane says shyly, emboldened 
by the wine. 

Clara smiles at her. “It is. Sure. Of course. Kind of. But it’s 
not—don't ever be fooled into thinking I’ve achieved any kind of 
anything, okay? I have a husband I adore and two kids who mean 
everything to me. But you can have that too. We can all have that. 
It’s the other things that are harder to come by.” 

Emboldened still, Jane allows herself to be a little bit offended 
by this. “I don’t think it’s so easy for all of us to find husbands we 
adore,” she says. “Or ones who adore us back.” 

She isn’t sure if Clara knows about her parents. Charlie 


90 FICTION 


knows, in great detail, owing to a night a few months earlier 
when the Cubs made it to the playoffs and traffic was at a stand- 
still, but the disclosure arrangement in their marriage is still 
unclear to Jane. 

“Well, that's true,” Clara says, reaching over and squeezing 
her wrist. “That's absolutely true. Usually the man you'd leap off 
a bridge for when you're 25 doesn't turn out to be the one who you 
wake up next to when you're pushing 50.” Clara pours them both 
more wine and sighs. “And if that does happen to you—I mean, the 
odds that you're still always happy to be waking up next to them 
are—well, Charlie would say negligible is too fatalistic a term.” 

"This isn't the most inspiring conversation,” Jane ventures. 

Clara laughs. “АП I'm suggesting is that you wait, if you can. 
This is lovely. Truly. All of it ends up being lovely, sometimes." 

"Are you saying that Charlie...” She stops. She'd watched Char- 
lie and Clara together, had earlier that evening seen the man 
nibble casually at his wife's neck when he thought no one was 
looking; she had been playing rummy with the boys in the living 
room, but she'd cut through the kitchen to use the bathroom. On 
some dark nights, alone nights when she is horny and maligned, 
she pictures them together: the wiry electric man who'd once 
pulled over on a side street to make her listen to a ^Hello, Good- 
bye" B-side, pumping over his sun-kissed, formidable wife, work- 
ing a lizard tongue into the crook of her neck, parting the lips of 
her sex with fingers he used to drum deftly on the steering wheel. 
She's pictured him driving Clara to the hospital when she was in 
labor with Gus or Léo, counting her breaths, mopping her brow. 
She's pictured them sitting on their porch pre-sunrise, maybe up 
early or maybe still awake from the night before, Clara's feet in 
his lap or their bodies twined together in a chaise longue; she's 
pictured them tending together to one of their feverish children; 
she's pictured them falling into bed at the end of a long day. 

But to see them like that—close and offhanded, Charlie teas- 
ing and Clara pretending to be annoyed, nudging past him to 
reach for the pepper grinder, hands to yourself, mister—well, it 
had stirred something in her, something that's painful to think 
about too hard, something that makes her bristle at the thought 
of Charlie straying, even straying with her, Jane, though that has 
been the subject of her most lewd fantasies for months. 

"Charlie's crazy about you," she says. 

Clara laughs and sips her wine. “Sure he is," she says. 
"Sometimes." 

She can't think of anything to say and this seems to give Clara 
pause. She reaches over and squeezes Jane's knee. 

"I'm lucky; you're right," Clara says. “Look at me, aiding in the 
disillusionment of a minor." 

Jane spends the night in one of their three guests rooms, where 

the bed is a cumulus cloud and the pillows smell like jasmine. 
"Is she doing okay, at least?" she asked, sitting with him on the 
back porch the next morning, before Greg awakened. He and 
Clara were taking some time apart, he'd told her. Nothing seri- 
ous. A breather. 

“Oh, Christ, yes," Charlie said. “She's having a blast. She just 
got back from three weeks in Abu Dhabi." 

"Alone?" 

Charlie looked at her slyly, smirking. ^With a few of her 
friends." 

"Ah." 

"Platonic, PTA-mom type of friends. She hasn't turned on me 
quite so far. Not yet." 

“I didn’t mean——” 


“No, she doesn't һауе а man, Janey; not 
as far as I can tell. Which struck me аз odd 
at first because—I mean, she could, easily, 
don't you think?” 

"Absolutely," Jane said. Clara was gor- 
geous in that kind of timeless, graceful way, 
beauty without effort, the kind that radi- 
ated from naturally unclogged pores. And it 
extended beyond the physical—beyond her 
honey twist of hair, beyond the lively soft- 
ness of her body (not fat but fully inhabited, 
a body that boasted both its childbearing 
abilities and an affinity for pastries; its 
fondness for vigorous walks along the river 
and days spent reading beneath afghans). 
Clara glowed. She exuded goodness. 

Jane cleared her throat. “По you think 
it—I mean, with Clara. Is it—is there а 
chance that you'll..." 

“ОБ, sure." He crossed his ankle over his 
knee and leaned his head back. “We'll work 
it out. Don't worry about us. Is that a creek 
in your backyard?" 

"Mm." She folded her legs beneath her, 
rested her cheek against the cool wicker of 
the loveseat. “Риге Michigan. We're land- 
owners now; hadn't you heard?" 

"I'm happy for you,” he said, a little sadly. 

"Nothing you don't have already." She 
wasn't sure how to talk to him without 
flirting. 

“You deserve all this," he said. “You've al- 
ways deserved good things." 

“Ditto,” she said, and he smiled at her 
across the porch. 

"Those undergraduate delinquents are 
rubbing off on you." 

“Maybe.” 

“You teaching this summer?” 

“Absolutely not,” she said. 

“Too busy gestating, I suppose?" 

"Actually I'm planning on learning how to hang glide." 

“Му adventuress," Greg said from the doorway. His face was 
puffed with the lines of his pillow but he'd changed into jeans, 
she supposed because of Charlie. He joined them outside, bent 
to kiss her before he sat down beside her on the loveseat. ^Wow, 
coffee?" 

She could feel his gaze, so she focused instead on the dark liq- 
uid in her mug, espresso roast with a pinch of cinnamon, Char- 
lie's secret ingredient. The caffeine was getting to her more than 
she was willing to admit, making a fizzy feeling in her veins. She 
pressed a hand subtly to her throat to feel her pulse. 

“It's my fault,” Charlie said. “She protested, but I—" 

"Clara never gave up caffeine," Jane said. “Апа Gus is starting 
at Harvard in the fall." 

“Well, in that case,” Greg said. She could hear the effort behind 
his nonchalance. 

“Just one cup," she said. She smiled at him. She reached over 
and took his hand. 

It's okay for her to drink so much wine with Clara that she has 
to sleep over. A precedent has been set. She is invited to Gus's 


belt tests at the karate studio and Léo's Northwestern Astron- 
omy Bowl competitions. When she babysits in the afternoons 
and takes the Purple Line home, all family members hug her 
good-bye. 

But Charlie still drives her when it's dark out, and it's on one 
of those nights that she asks him in for a glass of wine. He and 
Clara have been at a university-wide memorial service for one of 
Clara's esteemed and prematurely cancer-stricken colleagues— 
Josephine Grimes; she'd glimpsed the name in the Dearly 
Departed section of the Umiversity Circle newsletter on their 
mail table—and they are both notably sober afterward. Clara 
doles out Jane's pay with a desultory exhaustion and leans in to 
kiss her dryly on the cheek. 

"You're a doll," she says. “I have to either go slit my wrists or 
take an Ambien." 

"So long as you're only dead to the world when I return," Char- 
lie says, cupping a hand to his wife's face and kissing her, more 
affectionate than normal. "You sure you're okay?" he whispers, 
their faces close, and Jane has to look away. 

"I'm fine. Just sad. Take Janey home." Clara looks over at her 
and winks. "Make her regale you with stories of the innocence 
of youth." 

They drive the LSD stretch in silence, the tinny thump of a 


PLAYBOY 91 


Replacements album playing softly from the stereo. Jane rests 
her forehead against the window and watches the glittered blur 
of the lake in the reflection of the glass, and at one point Charlie 
reaches over and pats her shoulder. 

“Сага and I are humbled by our own mortality tonight, 
I'm afraid," he says. *It's a thing that'll start to happen to you 
eventually." 

When he pulls up in front of her house she turns to him as if 
to say good-bye but instead she says, "I'm sure it's not quite up to 
your standards, but I've got wine if you'd like some." 

It's actually a relatively pricey bottle by her standards, $15.99 
at the sketchy Jewel-Osco on Roosevelt and Wabash. She'd pur- 
chased it that morning without quite knowing why. 

“А hundred-something academics in a chapel," he says. “Апа 
no booze to be found for 
miles. What kind of send- 
off is that? I wanted to 
bring a flask but Clara said 
it was disrespectful." 

“Well.” 

“Га love some of your low- 
brow wine,” he says, and 
they're both silent as he cir- 
cles the block a few times 
looking for parking. 

Inside she tries to seem 
confident and autonomous, 
proud of her sparsely fur- 
nished 10808 architec- 
ture. He’s winded from five 
flights of ascension and she 
politely turns her back to 
him as she opens the wine. 

“To Josephine Grimes,” 
he says when she’s poured 
it. “Christ, that's crass, 
isn’t it?” he amends, with- 
drawing his glass. 

“Why?” She pushes hers 
toward him. “To Clara,” she 
says, and he gives her a sad 
smile, the kind you give a 
kid who’s just asked when 
they can go visit the dog on 
his new farm. 

“And that, my darling,” he says, “is the dictionary definition of 
the word.” 

“I didn’t—” 

“To you,” he says. “To lithe, lovely Jane, our saint and savior.” 

She clinks to that and leads him into the living room, where 
the lighting is better. It begins awkwardly, which reassures 
her, lulls her into the false sense of everything being above- 
board and allowed. They sit beside one another on the couch, 
not on opposite ends but together toward the middle, knees 
practically touching. 

“Thanks for having me,” he says. “I needed a little break.” 

“Of course.” Her voice cracks. 

“I hope I'm not——” he says, and she replies, teasingly, “Not 
what?” 

She isn’t sure where to place her hand. Over his dick? In the 
dick region? Is it okay to call it a dick when it has been used 
to electively father offspring who aren’t yours? He solves the 


92 FICTION 


HE BENDS OVER 
UNNATURALLY 
TO KISS HER 
FOREHEAD, THEN 
HER MOUTH, 
THEN HER NECK 
AND THEN HER 
MOUTH AGAIN. 


problem by twining his fingers through hers, holding her hand 
in Ше upside-down V of his rib cage over his belly. 

“Т never do this," he says, like a sigh. 

“Sit on a couch?" 

“I need you to not be coy." 

“Ме either," she replies, and it's then that she rests her head 
against the worn warmth of his shoulder, fitting the bones of 
her cheeks and jaw around his pointy protrusion where humerus 
meets scapula. ^You don't have to," she says. “То be honest Га 
probably like you more if you didn't." 

“I like you,” he says. “Very much." 

“Ditto,” she says. 

He leans his head back and she can feel his bones rearranging 
themselves beneath her cheek. “Isn't this one hell of a cliché." 

^well, I don't know 
about——” 

“But there is achemistry 
thing happening here, is 
there not?” 

“I can’t explain it,” she 
says. “I have this thing 
about men in their 50s who 
give it to me straight.” 

“Some may call that a fa- 
ther complex,” he says. 

“Fuck you,” she says, 

and she laughs, but it’s 
the kind of laugh that is 
40 percent crying, and he 
moves closer to her, rear- 
ranging her legs, lifting 
the heft of her ass so it’s 
tilted against his thigh. He 
bends over unnaturally to 
kiss her forehead, then her 
mouth, then her neck, and 
then her mouth again. 
She was awake when Greg 
came to bed, reading by 
penlight like an adolescent 
at summer camp. 

“I thought you'd be deep 
in REM by now,” he said. 
He undressed quickly, neglected to brush his teeth, and slid in 
beside her, fitting the length of his body along the length of hers 
and tucking his chin against her neck. 

“I was, for a while,” she said. “Your daughter has the hiccups.” 

“Oh yeah?” He sounded intrigued. 

She ruffled idly at his hair. Their baby did not have the hic- 
cups; their baby was, in fact, sleeping soundly at a remarkably 
convenient time when Jane wished to be sleeping herself. But she 
squirmed against her husband and put her hand low on her belly 
and wrinkled her nose. 

“For the last 20 minutes,” she said, and Greg put his hand be- 
side hers, rubbed around in little circles, trying to feel. 

“I can’t find them,” he said. His breath in her ear still always 
awakened something between her legs. She pushed her thighs to- 
gether and sighed. 

“Sort of a little to the left,” she said, and she felt his hand fol- 
low her instructions. “Not so left. And a little bit down. No, not— 
yeah, but not—a tiny bit to the right.” 


Не was so compliant. She almost felt bad. 

“You honestly can't feel that?” She felt him stiffen against her, 
alert now, on a mission. His fingers palpated her belly. She wor- 
ried it would wake the baby, already a casualty to something Jane 
was unwilling to articulate. 

“Sort of,” he said after a minute, and the lie broke her heart. 
She relaxed against him and laced her fingers through his, both 
now feeling for the fabricated extraterrestrial movements. 

“Probably just gas,” she said. 

“Talk dirty to me,” he said, and she laughed, and as they lay in 
the dark she felt him fall asleep, felt his breath slow and his body 
slacken, and a few minutes after that the baby awakened with 
such vigor that eventually she had to extract herself from his em- 
brace, go for a walk around the backyard, a hand bolstering her 
belly, thinking, Please just calm down; I promise you that every- 
thing is going to be all right. 

Eventually she wandered back inside and drifted off in the 

armchair in her office. She dreamed that she was making out 
with one of her students beneath the cypress tree in the Crosses' 
backyard. She dreamed that all her teeth crumbled out of her 
mouth. She dreamed she was on a boat with Greg and Charlie at- 
tacked them from behind, overturning the vessel and sending 
them both plunging underwater. She dreamed that she was lac- 
tating dark roast, using her space-age new breast pump, the fun- 
nel channeling the liquid directly into her mouth. 
He has an exotic, gorgeous wife and yet for some reason he falls 
for Jane, boring, beige Jane with the worst shade of dirt-brown 
hair and a body that isn't skinny in any of the right places, slow- 
on-the-uptake Jane who normally has great difficulty making 
casual conversation. 

“Get yourself some wine," she says, and when he starts to the 
kitchen she adds, "but come kiss me first." He comes over some- 
times, now, when he's not driving her home, stops by on his way 
to or from his office with coffee or a pack of Dunhills or beignets 
from the dubious Creole place on Maxwell Street. 

He comes to her and she clamps his thighs between her legs, 
pulling him closer, gripping him in the diamond of her knees. 
He bends his face down to hers and she catches his lips gently 
between her teeth, eliciting a moan that renders her momen- 
tarily reassured. 

"You taste good," she says. "Something garlic." 

He stands straight and studies her, smiling in his way, half 
amused. She realizes then, suddenly, that Clara had been at din- 
ner with him. It shouldn't surprise her, nor is she allowed to be 
offended, but the knowledge opens up a little pit inside of her, an 
irritating ache like a menstrual cramp. 

"Dinner. Faculty husband," he says, affirming. 

She swallows hard and rubs the arch of her foot along his fly. 
“Don’t just stand there,” she says. "My sommelier.” 

She doesn't talk like this to anyone else in the world. The 
secret self flows from her like vomit. He touches his knuck- 
les to her forehead for a second, and then he disappears into 
the kitchen, where she hears him uncorking the wine, setting 
down the glasses, unfurling the bag of chocolate-covered pret- 
zels she'd bought on impulse. When he returns he smells of that 
instead, cocoa and sugar, and she lifts her legs onto the back 
of the couch to make room. He sits beside her and she lowers 
her legs into his lap, taking her glass, careful not to jostle his. 
She'd worried to him last week that she thought she was devel- 
oping a bunion. He strokes the red knuckle now with the pad of 
his thumb. 


“It's those boots,” he says. 

"Ilook stumpy otherwise.” 

“You could never.” 

He tells her sometimes that she should be indulging the young 
men who are surely knocking down her door when he's not around 
but what he doesn't seem to get is that those men don't exist, that 
she is for whatever reason only capable of inciting the amorous 
attentions of those old enough to parent her, that her thighs are 
too melty for men in their 30s, that they don't respond well to the 
ruminative melancholy that overtakes her post-sunset. 

Clara dresses practically, but with undeniable style, the confi- 
dent ownership of a woman with a Ph.D. and plenty of money and 
an accomplished husband and a stable station in life, a big green 
house overlooking a naturally formed creek. 

He presses at her arch, at the spaces between each of her toes. 
“You should get this looked at." 

She flexes around his finger like a monkey, like an infant in sleep. 
The wood for the crib arrived on Sunday, when Greg and Char- 
lie were alone together and Jane was holding her office hours at 
the café on Devonshire. When she came home they were build- 
ing it, not a crib from a box but one they were designing them- 
selves, using Greg's blueprints. She watched them from afar for 
a moment. Her husband was formidable and confident, straight- 
spined, work-booted, damp at the armpits. She felt a twinge for 
him, his big shoulders and his mechanical mind and the pleasure 
he took from interacting physically with the world. 

But then, beside him: It was the first time she noticed that 
Charlie's vulpine allure—the reedy brawn of his body that had so 
electrified her during their months together—had faded some- 
what, melted into something almost—she flinched—geriatric. 

“What on earth is all this?" she asked mildly, coming into Ше 
garage where they were both sweaty and hunched and listening 
to Led Zeppelin. Greg came over to kiss her. She rode it out for 
a couple extra beats, exhibitionism that was uncharacteristic for 
them both. Greg looked surprised. Charlie eyed them sideways 
and sipped indelicately from a Sierra Nevada. 

“Тһе balsa finally came," Greg said. 

“You didn't tell me you'd married the most gifted carpenter 
since the Lord himself, Janey." 

She looked at Charlie to assess the level of hostility in his voice, 
but his smile remained nervy and even. She put her hand on 
Greg's shoulder. “I don't like to brag,” she said. Then: *Sweetie, 
it's gorgeous. Already. I can't wait to see it when it's finished." 

"This is more manual labor than I've done in my entire life," 
Charlie said, but then his smile warmed slightly and he winked at 
her. “But it's all for a good cause." 

She felt, weirdly, like she was going to cry, but it passed, just as 
the track changed on the stereo. 

“Babe,” Charlie twanged theatrically, suggesting that the 
beer was not his first. ^Baby, baby, I'm gonna leave you." She'd 
read about incongruous arousal during the third trimester. She 
had not yet experienced it until that moment. He did a little bit 
of air-guitar finger-picking and then continued, ad-libbing, 
"Just as soon as I build this fucking ridiculously ornate cradle 
for your kid." 

“Couple of craftsmen,” she said, all she could muster. 

Greg wove his arm around her waist and she took his hand be- 
side the insurmountable swell of her belly. 

She can't pinpoint specifically when Clara starts to look at her 
differently, but one day she notices that she's grown accustomed 


PLAYBOY 93 


to it, the little bit of tightness around Ше corners of her mouth as 
she smiles, a barely perceptible hardness in her eyes. 

“Charlie's very fond of you,” she says one day, when she and 
Jane are sitting on opposite ends of the living room couch, fold- 
ing ап immense pile of the boys’ laundry. 

She startles and tries to brush it off as a crick in her back. 
“Well,” she says. “That's nice to hear. I'm fond of him.” 

Clara gives her the smile and she wonders how she hasn't seen 
it sooner. 

“Is everything——" Clara falters and directs her attention to a 
pair of Gus's tiny Animaniacs briefs, social clumsiness that's un- 
like her. "Are you all right, Jane? Is everything okay with you?" 

“How do you mean?" She feels a surge of existential gratitude 
for the fact that heartbeats are not audible outside of the body. 

"You can—you can talk to me, I guess is all I'm saying,” Clara 
says. “1 hope you know that you can—if anything's going on...in 
your life, I mean; I hope you know that I'm around and I won't be— 
you've become a part of our family, and Га like to think that we can 
trust each other." She meets Jane's eyes and holds her gaze. 

“ОҒ course," Jane says. *Yes. I mean, thank you. Of course I 
know. We can. Thanks." 

Clara smiles again, just her ordinary mom-smile. *You don't 
haveto thank me. I was just—you know, checking in." 

^I broke up with my boyfriend," Jane blurts out. The lie has 
arisen from nowhere, sprung from the ether with startling ease. 
Clara looks startled. 

“Oh,” she says. “Т didn't realize you were—you've never men- 
tioned anyone." 

“I guess I never thought of it." It is not specifically she who 
says this but the ether-person, the confident liar. “Maybe that 
should've been a sign." 

"It could go both ways, I guess," Clara says. ^We either hide 
things because we're ashamed or because we want to protect 
them. I had this wretched, laughable, Romeo and Juliet hos- 
tage situation with my high school boyfriend—we'd just spend 
all of our time in his basement. Pathetic. It seemed like sacri- 
lege to share him with anyone else." She laughs. *But I'm sorry, 
Jane. That's—do you want to talk about it? How long were you 
together?" 

"Almost two years." 

^Well, God." 

“It's fine," she says. “It was for the best, I guess.” 

“And yet you still seem....” 

The liar stands up straight, an icicle along her spine. “Well,” 
she says. “It's a little more complicated than that, actually." 
“What do we do?" she asked. Charlie was cooking and she was 
washing dishes as he went, adopting a leisurely pace, leaning 
against the counter between pans. ^When she's born? How are 
we supposed to—what, we're just allowed to take her home and— 
everything's copacetic?" 

She watched the side of his face lift into a smile. 

“It's the thing they never tell you,” he said. “You're on your own. 
Isn't that something?" 

"You two seemed to do okay." 

“We had our moments," he said. “But the day we brought Léo 
home, God." 

“Did something happen?" She rested ahand—wrapped damply 
in the dish towel—against her belly. 

“Of course not. He cried. He nursed. He was thoroughly inves- 
tigated by the cat." 

"But you were okay?" 


94 FICTION 


Charlie was quiet for a moment, scrubbing insistently at the 
eyes of a potato with the special brush that Greg had put on 
their wedding registry. “There was a moment," he said, “when 
he wouldn't stop crying, and Clara'd had an episiotomy and she 
could barely walk, and the frightening Unitarians next door 
were trying to bring us muffins and they were ringing the bell, 
and there was just this—there was just this extra person, sud- 
denly, in our lives, Janey, and it was so fucking surreal that I 
started laughing. And Clara was standing with him over by the 
fireplace and she was hunched over like an old woman but the 
strangest thing was that she didn't look like an old woman; she 
looked about 12, for the first time since I'd met her, just holding 
this tiny screaming baby, and I—” He paused and she couldn't 
bring herself to reach over and turn off the faucet. It ran, insis- 
tently, a coursing stream down into the saucepan and over the 
mugs. “She didn't laugh, is Ше gist, I guess," he said finally. 
"She didn't find it funny and it was—she didn't laugh with me. 
Not the first time, certainly, but it felt—that felt seminal. That 
felt like a door closing." 

Over the course of his telling her eyes had filled with tears 
and she wiped at them with the dish towel. Charlie regarded 
her evenly. 

“It just changes things," he said, making no effort to comfort 
her. “Not necessarily in one direction or the other. It advances 
you to a parallel life. You just switch tracks." He shrugged, rifling 
through one of the drawers for a knife. "You guys'll be fine." 

"So long as we find an ugly babysitter, right?" she said, sud- 
denly aware of how fast her heart was beating, of how her breath 
made a sound when it pushed out of her nose. 

Charlie smiled at her sadly. “Yes. Let her not be brilliant or 
charming or wildly dexterous, either, if you can manage." 

Her face flushed. "A gay man, perhaps," she said with some 
amount of strain. 

“Ап elderly homosexual child-minder," he agreed, laughing, 
and all was well again when Greg came in from the garage. She 
could see at once that he was ill, a cold maybe, pink around the 
eyes and shivering visibly. His hair was damp with sweat and 
sticking up on one side. 

It flipped a nervous switch inside her, seeing him weakened 
like that. 

"Sweetheart," she said, going to him, touching her hand to his 
cheek. “Oh, you're warm.” 

“It just hit me out of nowhere," he said. “You shouldn't come 
near me; we don't want you getting sick." 

"They're a hearty bunch, the gravid," Charlie said from the sink. 

She saw a flicker of irritation in her husband's eyes. 

"She had bronchitis in her first trimester," Greg said. “It was 
hell for her." 

“Honey,” she said. 

"At first I thought Janey was overreacting," Charlie said, “but 
you do have this tendency to talk about her like she's not in the 
room." 

“Both of you, stop,” she said. She touched Greg's shoulder. “Do 
you have to go to bed, sweetie? Charlie and I are making dauphi- 
nois." She knew the way she curled her lips around the ph would 
drive Greg nuts. 

“I feel like I'm going to pass out,” Greg said. ^You'd better eat 
without me." 

“Let me tuck you in,” she said. 

She lets Clara Cross support her through a fake abortion. It is the 
second most fucked-up thing she will ever do to a person she loves. 


“Т actually had one between Léo 
and Gus," Clara says to her. ^We've al- 
ways had the testing done because I'm 
older and I—well, she—it was a girl; she 
would've had——” Here Clara chokes 
up a little, brushing at her eyes, leav- 
ing no traces of the indulgent eyeliner 
that Jane favors at the time. “They can 
test for those things, you know? Down's. 
And we just couldn't—I just couldn't— 
Léo was such a handful already and 
Charlie was gone all the time and I 
couldn't envision a way in which that 
was something that we could ——" She 
composes herself and shakes her head. 
“I was 17 weeks. I was showing already. 
Luckily I've always had this," here she 
places a hand over her lower belly, the 
maternal paunch between her hip- 
bones. "Luckily I've always had a little 
bit of extra weight, otherwise I would've 
told a lot more people and I would've 
had to explain it to——" Jane vows, in 
that moment, that she will never again 
allow Charlie to run his tongue along 
the fleshy, razor-burned skin of her 
upper thighs. He claims to love the half- 
hearted novelty of her grooming, pro- 
fesses that Clara hasn't done anything 
to her nether regions since she got preg- 
nant with Léo. "Ive never quite for- 
given myself." 

“I’m sorry," she says, and Clara takes 
her hand. 

"Its really not as bad as it sounds," 
she says. "It's still early for you. You've 
got so much ahead of you. It's uncom- 
fortable for a day. Then you're back into 
the swing of things." 

And the next week she lets Clara pick 
her up before sunrise on a sickly Thurs- 
day morning and she rides in the passenger seat of the Volvo 
while Clara drives her to the most coveted student-insurance- 
accepted clinic in Edgewater, and she weeps, but not for the rea- 
sons that Clara is imagining. Clara sits in the lobby with a heavily 
pregnant blonde person to her right and Jane allows herself to be 
led into an exam room. 

“Get undressed,” the nurse instructs her, and she lies back 
with legs splayed as she undergoes her annual pap smear. For 
the first time in eight years, she wears the institutional pad they 
offer her for possible spotting. 

Afterward Clara takes her to a Polar Bear in a nearby suburb 
and they eat frozen custard together sitting in the car parked be- 
side the forest preserve. 

“Do you want to talk about it?" Clara asks, and Jane shakes her 

head, but not too vigorously, because she is still recovering. 
After dinner, after she checked on Greg—her husband sleep- 
ing soundly, NyQuilled and blanket-wrapped—she discovered 
Charlie sitting in the back, not on the porch but in the grass, legs 
spread before him, pale and hairy in the blue light of the moon. 

"I don't want to scare you,” she said. 


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“Never, my dear,” he replied without turning, as though he'd 
known her to be there all along. 

“Do you want to be alone?” she asked. 

“Knowing there's an alternative?” He rose gracefully, spring- 
ing his body up like a backward diver. “Absolutely not.” He smiled 
at her. “I’m guessing the lady is averse to sitting in the grass these 
days?” 

“Not averse,” she said, settling herselfin one ofthe Adirondack 
chairs. “Just incapable.” 

He sat beside her, bringing with him an absurdly filled tumbler 
of something brown. “Aren't you supposed to be sleeping?” he 
asked. “Confining? Languishing in the sprouting of your seed?” 

“She has the hiccups,” she said, which was again not precisely 
true at the moment. 

“Can I feel?" he asked. 

“Not now,” she said. “I'm fat and heinous.” 

“You're gorgeous,” he said. “You're aglow.” 

“That's the moon.” 

“It's not.” He ran the arch of his foot along the length of her 
calf. “It's you.” 

“Knock it off,” she said, hoping her voice didn't betray her 


PLAYBOY 95 


anxiety, Ше amount of pleasure that was still buzzing through 
hertibia. 

“You'llname her after me, I assume?" 

“Charlize,” she said. 

He laughed. “She's going to be invincible,” he said. “I can't wait 
to meet her." 

“Will you come back?" she asked, and she was embarrassed to 
hear her voice squeak. “When she's born?" 

“Well, sure,” he said, then: “ГИ try.” 

“It would mean a lot to Greg,” she said. “All of this is mak- 
ing him a little nervous. His parents both died years ago. We're 
lacking—” she swallows “—strong parental figures. Nice to have 
another dad around. A pro.” 

“And to you?” 

“To me what?” 

“Would it mean a lot to you?” 

She stilled. Then, quietly, almost a whisper: “Yes.” 

“ГТ see what I can do, then,” he said. 

She sat back and sighed, 
sipped her tea, shifted 


her weight. “Is it really 
happening?” 

“Га say so,” he said, ges- 
turing to her belly. 


“You and Clara,” she 
said. “Getting back to- 
gether. Are you really—is it 


real?” 
“It’s complicated,” he 
said finally. 


“Is it ever not?” 
“In this case, especially 


” 


80. 

“Because you're both 
still thinking about it or 
because——" 


"Jesus, can you not sound 
like you're enjoying this so 
much?" 

“Pm not, she said, 
hurt. “I'm really not. Tm 
curious." 

"Voyeurism doesn't suit you," he said. 

"I'm not being 

"We're divorced." 

“Oh,” 

“As of last month.” 

“Charlie.” She reached in the dark for his hand, found it, damp 
from the condensation on his glass. She brought it up to her face, 
felt the hair on his knuckles brushing against her cheek, inhaled 
his smell into her nose. 

“There was a——" He stopped. “А girl—a young woman, last 
year, and she—I mean, nothing ever—well, certainly not nothing, 
but it was——” 

She tried to make an empathetic murmuring noise but it came 
out as asqueak. 

“Nothing like you, Janey,” he said. “It was stupid. I was stupid. 
She was helping out around my office. Clara came to bring me 
lunch one day and I—” 

She realized that the latest pause was caused by his tears 
and she stiffened, his hand still near her mouth. She lowered 
it gently to the armrest of the chair and deposited it there like 


96 FICTION 


SHE CANNOT 
BRING HERSELF 
ТО WASH THE 
GUEST ROOM 
ОЕ БОЛОИ SA 
WEEKS LATER. 


a baby bird. After a minute she spoke: “Well, Га say something 
about cliché...." 

He snorted. 

“I’m sorry,” she said. 

"It's my own fault." 

“Well.” 

“She’ll be happier," he said. “The boys are almost out of the 
house and she's finally working on a book. She's planning a trip 
to Nice in the fall.” 

“Did she ever—with me, was she ever——” 

"You're in the clear,” he said. 

“But the fellowship—the timing with the——" 

"That was just Clara being Clara. She adored you. She wanted 
you to go forth and prosper. Which it seems you have. She'll be 
happy to know." 

"You guys still talk?" 

“ОҒ course," he said, and the ease with which he spoke still 
sent a niggling spark down her spine. “Glass of wine on the sun- 
porch every Sunday after- 
noon when I come to get my 
mail. Haven't been able to 
bring myself to forward it.” 

“But she never thought 
that I—" 

"You're too pure, Janey. 
You're too good for all of 
that. He took her hand 
again. ^We missed you, 
when you left. АП of us." 

She was not allowed 
to ask any of the most 
glaringly obvious ques- 

tions: Then why didnt 
you call? Why didn't she 
call? Why didn't the boys 
ever respond to my post- 
cards? Her parents all 
over again, almost, ex- 
cept that time she was the 
adulterer, living in a spa- 
cious sunlit loft in Ber- 
lin, reading Sebald and eventually finding German boys who 
were charmed enough by her American accent to disregard her 
shortcomings. 

“Did you get another babysitter?" she asked instead. 

He squeezed her hand twice. ^Naah. You were irreplaceable. 
Plus Léo was old enough to take care of Gus by then. You trained 
them well for self-sufficiency." 

"I really am sorry,” she said absently. 

^Oh, Janey. Knock it off." He took back his hand to wipe his 
eyes and she turned away, embarrassed for them both. “Just sit 
with me." 

"She's kicking," she said, and Charlie turned to her, interested. 
“Come here." 

He knelt at her feet so she could feel the heat from his T-shirt 
bleeding into her legs. 

“Рас your hand here," she said, but instead he laid the side 
of his face, resting the full weight of his head against her. The 
baby kicked hard—right, she estimated, into his cheekbone. 
“Do you feel that?" she asked. “She just kicked you in the face. 
She must have some of my genes, at least. I wonder if she——" 
But she stopped, then, because she felt a strange wetness on her 


dress, а weird shuddering that was coming not from within her 
but from the outside, Charlie's head, his chest heaving a little 
against her knees. 

“Oh,” she said. She put a hand on his shoulder. 

“Т miss her,” he said, and before she could stop herself she ге- 

plied, “Me too.” 
The envelope arrives on athawing Thursday in early May, thick 
and linen and intimidating. She opens it while perched on the 
edge of her couch, noticing one of Charlie's stray socks beneath 
the coffee table. A fellowship in Germany, six months, all ex- 
penses paid, on the recommendation of Dr. Clara Cross. She 
goes straight to the Halsted L stop and transfers halfway to the 
Purple Line, finally showing up on their doorstep, breathless 
and uninvited. 

“It was my pleasure,” Clara says. “You deserve it." Charlie is at 
work, she says, so they'll have to do their best to make a dent in 
the Veuve without his help. She opens the bottle deftly, a towel 
over the top to prevent the cork from flying. “Old restaurant 
trick," she says. 

"I didn't know you waited tables." 

"Seven years," Clara says. “While I was finishing my Ph.D." 
She regards Jane placidly over the champagne flutes. 

There's a quiet that feels full of something that Jane can't bring 
herself to address. 

“We shouldn't leave Gus alone for so long,” Clara says, and the 
fullness has been acknowledged, and they carry their champagne 
onto the back porch, no Curtis Mayfield this time, just the sput- 
tering of the automatic sprinklers and the lazy creak of Clara on 
the glider. Jane knows somehow to not sit beside her. 

“You know, I misspoke," Clara says. Gus, running in fran- 
tic circles around the bursts of water, comes by to bury his face 
against his mother's knees. She ruffles his hair and smiles down 
at him, dips her neck to kiss the crown of his head before he sets 
off again. "It's work," she says. "All of this actually takes quite a 
great deal of—work." She stays quiet until Jane meets her eyes, 
and then she smiles a smile that makes Jane so sad she almost 
drops her glass. “We're going to miss you,” Clara says. 

But Jane can't reply because this time it's her turn to be greeted 
by Gus, who dives into her lap and sends a wave of champagne 
over her arm and into the geraniums. 

He was hungover when she drove him to the lecture, breathing 
deliberately through his mouth, keeping his eyes closed against 
the sunshine. 

“I don't mind doing this,” she said, “but isn't it sort of odd that 
the college didn't handle your travel arrangements?" 

"What?" 

"At least a room at the Days Inn. Their endowment is huge, 
from what I hear." 

She taught at the state university, which was neighbored by the 
tiny private college to which they were currently driving. 

“Oh,” he said. “Oh, you thought——" 

“I thought what?” 

“l’m—just visiting. Just going to see.” 

“I thought you were the keynote." 

He looked over at her and pressed his palm against her thigh 
over the gearshift. “Oh, Janey,” he said. “Lord.” 

It dawned on her coolly and she gunned the accelerator without 
meaning to. 

“What an asshole you must think me,” he said. 

“She doesn’t know you're coming?” 


He shrugged, sheepish. “Thought she might like a surprise.” 

“That's” 

“Pathetic,” he said. “I’m aware.” 

“You could have told me,” she said. “Why didn't you—I mean, I 
could come in with—I haven't seen her since——” She coughed, a 
bleating sound. 

“You're a lovely hostess.” 

“Now you're being kind of an asshole.” She pulled over a block 
from the glassy expanse of the college's library and shifted to 
face him. 

“Thanks for the ride, Janey.” 

She got out of the driver's seat and let him come around and 
kiss her neck, the base by the bones where she could feel her 
own pulse, and she wished him well and smoothed his hair and 
told him that the guest room would always be there in case of 
emergencies, not that she was hoping for them. 

And he laughed at that, and he walked away, and she watched 

him with a sickly melancholy until his reflection disappeared be- 
hind the automatic doors. 
They throw her a going-away dinner, but it's tepid, no Motown, 
conservative pours of Bordeaux, the boys being moody and child- 
ish and Charlie drinking whiskey to their wine like it's water and 
Clara not quite meeting her eyes. It feels like Thanksgiving at her 
mother's house, clinky and stilted and strained. She rises at one 
point and finds herself deep-breathing in the bathroom, staving 
off tears. She slips one of Clara's shea butter seashell soaps into 
her pocket before she rejoins the party. 

“Janey's abandoning us for more illustrious things,” Charlie 
says. 

“It was bound to happen,” Clara says, still not looking at her. 

“ГП miss you guys,” she says, and Gus is the only one who 
echoes the sentiment. 

After dinner, there is no proffering of aperitifs or chocolate 
mousse on the terrace. 

“Гуе got an early morning tomorrow, I'm afraid,” Clara says. 
She pauses to write something in dry-erase marker on her big 
color-coded wall calendar, and it feels to Jane like an affectation. 
Clara turns back to face her. “But I'm happy to give you a ride.” 

“Oh, I—" 

“For Christ's sake, sweetheart,” Charlie says from the doorway. 
“ГП take her.” 

“Don't,” Clara says softly, not looking at either of them. She 
puts a stack of plates in the sink and the clatter echoes across 
the countertops. “Boys?” Her voice has lifted in pitch and verve; 
Gus appears behind Charlie and Leo a few paces after that. “Say 
good-bye to Jane,” Clara says. “Wish her luck.” 

Gus hugs Jane fiercely around the legs and she squats to kiss 
him on his head, feeling weirdly disembodied, feeling self- 
conscious kissing him while his mother is watching. 

“Behave yourself, Gustave?” she says, and he nuzzles briefly 
against her. 

Léo comes to her then too, offering a bony hand and a charm- 
ingly bowed head. 

“You,” she says gravely, “should feel free to e-mail me anytime.” 

And then he hugs her too, and it brings tears to her eyes, and 
she's just standing there, not-quite-crying in their big lived-in 
kitchen. 

Charlie clears his throat. “Bedtime, soldiers,” he says, and 
Jane doesn't have to turn to know that Clara is rolling her eyes 
at the unnecessarily masculine reference. Then, to Clara: “I 
said ГП take her.” 


PLAYBOY 9/ 


“Your coat's іп the foyer, Jane,” Clara says temperately, and 
Jane knows this is her cue. Once she leaves the kitchen she won't 
see Charlie again, not until he shows up on her doorstep іп Michi- 
gan 11 years later. 

She stops before him and bows weirdly. “Bye,” she says. 

Charlie takes her in for just a second—she can feel the 
lightning-quick absorption of her being into his consciousness— 
and then he bows back at her, even more weirdly, dipping at the 
waist, kissing his tented palms and blowing in her direction. 

“Godspeed, Janey,” he says. 

Clara is quiet over by the sink. Jane ducks out before she can take 
stock of what has happened. In the car, Clara remains quiet, and 
the air is quiet, and Clara's car is quiet as it rolls along Dempster 
Street. Jane is opening her mouth to speak when Clara interrupts. 

“I’m dropping you off at the train,” she says. “Is that all right?” 

There's the weird ache in Jane's throat that has to be ignored. 
The jasmine smell inside the car. The too-long stoplight at Chi- 
cago and Main. 

“Of course,” she replies, mouth full of something, a cottony far- 
away ache. 

Clara pulls up to the South Boulevard stop, dutifully flick- 
ing on her flashers. “Well,” she says, brisk, courteous, efficient. 
The mother-voice. She is wearing one of Charlie's blue poplin 
button-downs and slim cropped pants; Jane has half a mind to 
ask her where she acquired her tasteful snakeskin flats, her un- 
bending self-possession. “Go forth, I suppose.” 

“Clara,” Jane says, but her throat stops her, a nauseated 
surging. 

“You don't wear your headphones on the train, do you?” 

Jane shakes her head. 

"You've got your wits about you?” 

“Uh-huh.” She feels as though she might throw up. 

There's a pause, something heavy and sad, white noise of the 
radio, 97.1, the Stones, success Success success success. 

“Thank you,” Clara says, “for helping take care of them." 

She was conspicuous, trundling. If Ше lecture was being given in 
a large space, she reasoned, she would stay, skulk near the back, 
pass it off as professional development. But the room in which 
Clara was to speak, she found, was small, maybe 30 chairs, and 
the ficus near the door not tall enough for her to hide behind. She 
turned to go, but stopped when she saw them at the end of the 
hall, Charlie and Clara Cross, mid-embrace, her hands on his 
shoulders, a big smile. 

Clara looked even more formidable than she remembered, 
stately, now, in a wrap dress and conservative heels, that same 
chignon. But her ease with Charlie was the same, her hand 
against his cheek, her straightening of his collar, the slight 
leftward tilt of her head. And Jane felt that familiar ache, 
nervy and uterine. In Berlin, missing them, she'd begun to 
think of the ache as a kind of shock therapy. The conjured feel 
of Charlie's hands: zap. The warm benevolence of Clara's at- 
tention: zap. The awareness that she existed outside of them 
both, that she always would, that there was no way for her to 
win: zap zap zap. 

When she looked up again, Charlie and Clara were gone. She 
slipped out the back way, burping up something that felt like as- 
phalt in her throat. 

"The Lost Weekend," she calls it for a couple of weeks after 
Charlie leaves. But Greg stops smiling at the reference after 
she's made it four times, so she stops making it, and they make 


98 FICTION 


do, wait for their universe to right itself, wait for the baby to be 
born, wait for the subtle rosemary of Charlie's Eau Sauvage to 
filter its last musky dregs through their window screens. She 
cannot bring herself to wash the guest room sheets until six 
weeks later. 

They don't ever talk about it, about the fact that after Char- 
lie leaves she and Greg don't have sex again until five months 
after Simone is born. She goes down on him on selected week- 
end evenings and satisfies herself with two-fingered friction in 
the bathtub on nights she says she needs alone time; she passes 
it off first as physical discomfort and then as hormonal rigma- 
role and when the baby shows up at first they're both too tired to 
notice. When she finally does cede to his advances, she weeps af- 
terward, and Greg holds her tightly in his arms and apologizes, 
which makes her weep even harder. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” he says. “You know how much I 
love you, don't you?" 

“No,” she says. Then: “Yes.” 

Four years later she travels to Baltimore for three days. Greg 
offers her the weekend away as a half-assed birthday pres- 
ent, Sure, go ahead to the Round-Table Consortium of Franco- 
Prussian Agoraphobic Bibliophiles or whatever; I'll hold down 
the fort here. He drives her to the airport and she ducks into 
the backseat to kiss Simone. She mothers their daughter with a 
haphazard mix of warmth and remove. Simone, in spite of this, 
seems to be turning into a lovely person. Jane credits Greg for 
the victory. 

Greg retrieves her suitcase from the trunk and pulls her 
against him for a second. ^Behave yourself," he says. 

“Ditto,” she says. 

At the conference, on the first evening, Clara will regard Jane 
from across a crowded banquet hall, the cool dim recognition 
with which you might acknowledge a fellow commuter. Jane will 
return to her hotel room and stare at her bland face in the mirror 
over the desk and ponder the accumulation of years and whether 
childbearing has really so dramatically altered her. 

“I love you,” Greg says in the Grand Rapids departures lane. He 
does his furtive visual sweep of her face, looking for the fault lines. 

“I love you back." 

She doesn't ever tell Greg about the night in the yard, the night 
when he was dead to the world, feverish and breathing phlegm- 
ily alone in their bed. She doesn't ever tell him that she lowered 
herself onto the grass beside Charlie and that at first it was just 
kind of sweet and sad, people sitting on the bus, knees touching 
and her arm around his warm shoulders. She will never divulge 
what happened next, the way he lowered her gently, gradually, 
onto her back, and fitted his body alongside hers; how his breath 
in her ear as he asked "Are you sure this is okay?" would have 
been enough on its own but how she nodded, reaching back to 
stroke his temple, and how he lifted her dress and lowered her 
underpants so that she'd barely had to move. How having him in- 
side her was not specifically physiologically pleasant, given ev- 
erything, but how the sounds he made—low, familiar, distinctly 
mournful—changed the tenor, shifted the balance in the air, 
made her arch her spine and reach helplessly for the backs of his 
thighs. How afterward, when she was crying, he began to rub lit- 
tle circles around her temples with the pads of his fingers. How 
she recognized the gesture—a remedy for headaches or fatigue— 
as belonging to Clara. 

She doesn't ever tell him about that night in the yard, but she'll 
always suspect that he knows, and they'll go on like that, and 
everything's fine. 


Ж 


7 А 


“Baby, it's really cold outside." 


PLAYBOY 99 


ит 


102 


From injecting а 
sharecropper into 
a college kickoff 

to turning the Nike 
swoosh on its head, 
Hank Willis Thomas 
uses staples of 
America's ethos to 
comment on 

its inequities 


ey HENRI NEUENDORF 


Hank Willis Thomas is traveling. 

This time he's in Oregon to install the first major retrospec- 
tive of his work, at the Portland Art Museum. On view through 
January 12, 2020, the exhibit will travel to Arkansas in Feb- 
ruary and Cincinnati in July. It's a major achievement for the 
43-year-old artist, a career milestone he has worked up to ever 
since earning his MFA from California College of the Arts in 
2004. Throughout his career, Thomas has developed a reputa- 
tion as one of America's most versatile and outspoken artists, 
using photography, sculpture, video and collaborative public art 
projects to raise awareness about social justice and civil rights. 
That range might stem, in part, from what 
Thomas calls "some form of ADHD." 

“When I look at my survey show, it's like, 
Oh wow, that's definitely a broad spectrum 
of work,” he says. “I’ve always hoped that 
people can see the connections." 

A black artist who draws extensively 
on advertising, nostalgia and other out- 
growths of pop culture, Thomas keeps 
his Brooklyn studio lined with shelves of 
meticulously organized boxes packed with 
back issues of iconic black-culture maga- 
zines such as Ebony and Jet, as well as retro 
campaign buttons and other source mate- 
rial. His early photographic work suggests 
that the collective consciousness of any so- 
ciety is reflected in its advertising. The poi- 
gnant 2003 series Branded, for example, 
features photographs of black men marked 
with the Nike swoosh logo to comment on 
the relationships among advertising, race 
and consumerism. 

Thomas has also explored popular enter- 
tainment, using the spectacle of professional sports as a met- 
aphor for racism, corruption and violence. The Cotton Bowl, 
from his 2011 photo series Strange Fruit, juxtaposes images of 
a sharecropper and a black football player. The pairing serves 
to expose the similarities between African slaves, whose unpaid 
labor made generations of white Americans wealthy, and the 
descendants of slaves, whose unpaid work on college football 
teams enriches the mostly white executives of the billion-dollar 
sports-entertainment industry. 

His sculptural pieces are no less politically charged. We the 
People, from 2015, uses patterned tapestries woven from de- 
commissioned prison uniforms as a thinly veiled criticism of 
a criminal justice system that disproportionately incarcerates 
minorities and people of color. His 2014 sculpture Raise Up, 
which features cast-bronze figures reaching for the sky, was 
created in response to the killing of unarmed black men at the 
hands of police and is now a permanent part of the National 
Memorial for Peace and Justice and the Legacy Museum in 
Montgomery, Alabama. (The Museum of Modern Art, the Gug- 
genheim and, internationally, the National Gallery of Victoria 
in Melbourne, Australia have also acquired his work.) 

Speaking on the phone ahead of the Portland exhibit's open- 
ing, Thomas explains that he felt compelled to be an artist, 
and it's easy to see why. His mother, Deborah Willis, is a re- 
nowned photographer, a MacArthur "genius" grant recipient, 
a Guggenheim Fellow and current professor and chair of the 
Department of Photography & Imaging at the Tisch School of 
the Arts at New York University. "I can only imagine that the 


conversations around the dinner table 
must have been really interesting," says 
Jack Shainman, Thomas's New York 
dealer. “I think Hank is much further 
along in terms of evolution and race 
than a lot of us, just because he grew up 
in a household that was always discuss- 
ing that." 

Influenced by his mother's explora- 
tion of truth and reality, the artist's 
early work, such as his 1997 photo series 
A Thousand Words..., focuses on how the 
framing of images can influence con- 
text and how their meaning changes de- 
pending on what's included or left out of 
the frame. 

A terrifying crime proved to bea turn- 
ing point in Thomas's life and career. 
The artist's cousin, Songha Willis, was 
murdered during a violent robbery in 
Philadelphia in February 2000. In the 
aftermath, Thomas's resolve crystal- 
lized. “When my cousin was murdered, 
I felt I needed to make art that could 
change the world in а more intentional 
way," he says. 

The killing inspired Thomas to focus 
his energy on addressing social issues. 
At the same time, a rapidly changing 


technological landscape encouraged Ше 
trained photographer to broaden his per- 
spective. “Most of the technical things I 
learned, like processing film and print- 
ing, became irrelevant,” he says. “All I 
was left with was a way of looking at and 
critiquing images, so а lot of my work 
moved away from taking the perfect pic- 
ture and toward reconsidering and re- 
framing historical images. It has kind of 
taken me from photography to painting 
to video to sculpture to social practice.” 
The importance of Thomas's work, ac- 
cording to Julia Dolan, co-curator of 
the Portland show, lies in the way he ex- 
cavates the past to make sense of the 


ALGER LMI Ae Lele, 


= 


present. “The way he addresses the founding issues of this 
country is so critical to the dialogue we’re having on a national 
scale today,” she says. “We are often surprised by how his work 
dealing with race and bias becomes more and more relevant. He 
really thinks about structures in society that hold folks down, 
hold folks back and privilege some over others.” 

At a time when activism and civic engagement can be fash- 
ionable and superficial, Thomas has proven himself a uniquely 
active participant in the civic life within and beyond his own 
community. “I realized there are a lot of noncreative people 
shaping our reality and designing policies and laws that aren’t 
creative,” Thomas says. “And there are a lot of creative people 
who have abdicated their responsibility in shaping the narra- 
tives that our culture is founded on.” 

In 2018, For Freedoms, a super PAC Thomas founded in 2016 
with his friend and collaborator Eric Gottesman, worked with 


PLAYBOY 103 


104 


more than 100 artists—including JR, Marilyn Minter, Rashid 
Johnson, Tania Bruguera and Theaster Gates—to take over 
nearly 2oo billboards across all 5o states, as well as D.C. and 
Puerto Rico. Artists were asked to pick an issue they cared 
about and make a statement that could help viewers see the 
world in a new light. 

“Working with artists is like herding feral cats, and I say that 
as an artist myself,” Gottesman jokes. “It was ambitious, excit- 
ing and on a scale nobody has ever really done before.” 

Thomas also serves on the New York City Public Design 
Commission, an 11-member panel of experts appointed by the 
mayor, which reviews permanent architecture, landscape ar- 
chitecture and art proposals for city-owned property. Accord- 
ing to the New York Post, Thomas was a vocal advocate for 
replacing a number of Central Park public monuments of men 
with those of women. “These decisions that have shaped our 
lives have been made by urban planners and policy makers for 
centuries,” he says. “Who is important? Who deserves to be 
seen, and who doesn't?” 

The same questions are being raised by art institutions and 
a fine art industry that has excluded minorities and women for 
decades. This is starting to change. But like most change in the 
rigidly conservative art world, it's happening slowly. 

A 2018 study conducted by Artnet News and the art blog 
In Other Words found that just 2.3 percent of all artwork ac- 
quired (either by purchase or through donation) by 30 U.S. 
museums from 2008 to 2018 has been by African Americans, 
and that African American artists make up a mere 1.2 percent 
of global auction sales. These startling figures illustrate the 
critical role artists such as Thomas play in increasing the visi- 
bility of black artists—within both the American institutional 
landscape and the international marketplace for contempo- 
rary art. 

Thomas's personal stance toward equality in the art world 
is not quite what his politically charged work suggests. 
“There are always people who are excluded and exploited,” he 


Left: We the People, 2015, quilt 
made out of decommissioned 
prison uniforms. Opposite page: 
Your Skin Has the Power to Protect 
You, 2008, LightJet print. 


acknowledges, “and we all need to be 
wide awake to our participation in ig- 
noring important things and people.” 
However, he continues, “the more in- 
teresting stuff always happens outside 
the mainstream conversation, and so I 
don't think we should all be rushing so 
quickly to be accepted by the status quo. 
I do recognize that I am now part of the 
status quo, and I have a responsibility to 
improve it. That includes working hard 
toward greater inclusion and knowing 
that the work is never over.” 

For all his enthusiasm for civic engage- 
ment and civil rights—both in his work 
and in his activism—Thomas's chosen 
mediums and conceptually rigorous ap- 
proach translate into market prices that 
fall below those of many other artists of 
his generation. 


106 


In the art world, an artist's auction ге- 
cord can be a reliable barometer of the 
market's demand for their work. Art- 
ists who work across fewer mediums and 
approach their craft from a more deco- 
rative or colorful perspective—such as 
Johnson, Kehinde Wiley (who painted 
Barack Obama's official portrait) and 
Mickalene Thomas—have all achieved 
higher auction prices than Thomas. The 
highest-ever price paid for a work by Wiley 
is $300,000; Mickalene Thomas's top 
price is nearly $700,000; and Johnson's 
high mark stands at $1.16 million. In con- 
trast, Thomas's auction record is $75,000. 

Shainman points out that sales aren't 
necessarily an indicator of quality or im- 
portance, explaining that photographs 
and editions, which account for the ma- 
jority of Thomas's work, tend to be priced 
lower than original paintings. 

“In order for an artist to be success- 
ful today, the work has to be about ideas 
and also be interesting aesthetically,” 
Shainman says. “Hank is able to balance 


Left: | Am. Amen., 2009, Liquitex 
on canvas. Opposite page: Branded 
Head, 2003, Lambda photograph. 


these two things and merge them to make pieces that don't look 
like anybody else's—which is really important today too, since 
there have been so many artists who have come before us.” 

Grammy-winning hip-hop producer Swizz Beatz has been 
a collector of Thomas's work since 2018. “I first saw his amaz- 
ing work online, and it was so epic,” he says via e-mail. “At first 
sight, what grabbed me was the bold and artistic expressions 
in his work. Hank is a leader, a teacher, and super forward- 
thinking when it comes to culture and politics. I've seen Hank's 
growth; he's made many new big steps, and I'm super proud of 
him in so many ways. I feel that Hank is reflective of the future 
ofthe arts now." 

Thomas's busy upcoming year is likely to give his market a 
boost. Asked about the demand for his work, he's ambivalent, 
explaining that prices "are not an actual tangible indicator 
of value per se." But, he admits, “ме’уе been trained to value 
things that are more expensive, so when you make something 
people think is expensive, it automatically becomes historic 
and important." 

Much of Thomas's work puts its metaphorical finger directly 
into the wound and urges its viewers to engage in difficult con- 
versations; presumably this particular brand of candor doesn't 
sit well with many art collectors, who are disproportionately 
white. But the artist has no plans to make his work more palat- 
able for the market. “I only know how to Бе me,” he says. “I don't 
separate my art from my life." 

While Thomas's outspokenness is a key part of his role as an 
artist, it has gotten him into trouble too. In September 2018, 
South African photographer Graeme Williams accused the 
American artist of copying his photograph of black school- 
children and white police officers, an image that became a 
symbol of the end of apartheid. Speaking to The Guardian, 
Williams insisted that the changes in Thomas's whited-out ver- 
sion were “minimal” and accused the artist of "theft, plagia- 
rism [and] appropriation." 

Responding to the accusations, Thomas asks, "How do we 
in the age of mass and digital reproduction talk about history 
and visual culture?" He adds, "In books you can put quotation 
marks around words, attribute it to someone, and it's okay." In 


At e, time 
when civic 
engagement 
can be 
fashionable, 
Thomas has 
proven himse 
з uniquely 
active 
participant. 


visual art, he argues, notions of authorship and the lines be- 
tween appropriation and plagiarism are much harder to trace. 

Perhaps this blurring of authorial boundaries is related to his 
willingness to collaborate. Thomas readily admits that much of 
his creative process is brainstormed, delegated and outsourced 
to historians, fabricators, writers, graphic designers and illus- 
trators. “I think of myself more like an art director than a tradi- 
tional fine artist,” he says. This is more common than it sounds. 
Like Leonardo da Vinci, Raphael and many of the masters who 
came before them, contemporary artists including Damien 
Hirst, Jeff Koons and Yayoi Kusama maintain large workshops 
and studios in order to meet market demand. 

Dolan says Thomas's collaborative instinct stems from his 
essential human curiosity. “He's very interested in what other 
people think,” she says. “He really wants to hear others and under- 
stand how they see the world to explore how his perceptions might 
be helped, changed or enhanced by listening and collaborating." 

Thomas's inquisitive nature and dizzying range ultimately 
serve a dual purpose perfectly summed up by Gottesman, his 
friend for almost 20 years. 

^I think he's aware of the power of attention. That's really 
what his work is all about," Gottesman says. "It's about criticiz- 
ing how attention is garnered by larger forces in society. So on 
a personal level he's always trying to bring other people in and 
bring new voices into the conversation." 


10545 
) ж ГҮ! Ty 


Л А » 1 | | n ym 
ET. AM fa 


aw ` зе 


PLAYBOY 109 


z 


PHOTOGRAPHY BY LOU ESCOBAR 


t 
$ 


“Every day I feel different. Every day it's either masc ог femme ог 
in between. Every day is goth or bohemian,” Princess Nokia tells 
me. “When I wake up and feel an energy, I coexist with it." 

The performer, born Destiny Frasqueri, is fluid in more ways 
than one. "I'm a gender-nonconforming androgynous person," 
she says. “But some people are like, “What happened to your 
tomboy phase?” " 

That question is a reference to Frasqueri's breakthrough 
2017 single “Tomboy,” off the album 1992 Deluxe. The song's 
music video sees her on a basketball court 
in an oversized T-shirt pulled over a sweat- 
shirt. She later raps about her “little tit- 
ties" and “phat belly." Those who inquire 
about her lost era of tomboyishness seem 
not to realize that Frasqueri's presenta- 
tion will never be absolute and thus defies 
tidy categorization. 

In a culture that encourages us to divide— 
by religion, economics, race, age, sexual- 
ity, the list never ends—the multihyphenate 
Princess Nokia persona sets out to repre- 


With a new album 
forthcoming, hip- 
hop powerhouse 
Princess Nokia 
explains why 
living in multiple 
dimensions is 


paramount to her 
existence on Earth 


ev JHONI JACKSON 


sent the complexity of women, artists and 
human beings. She's a lover and a fighter. 
She's a rapper and a singer. She's mascu- 
line and feminine. She's a pragmatist and 
a dreamer. And no matter the haters, Fras- 
queri is unstoppable. 

"It's so much easier to understand artis- 
tic men," Frasqueri remarks. “But women— 
especially brown women—we think they 
have psychological issues." 

It's a given that career-minded women have to work harder 
to earn respect and dollars. In hip-hop specifically, female up- 
and-comers often have a male sponsor. Lil Wayne ushered Nicki 
Minaj into the spotlight; Timbaland collaborated with Missy 
Elliott. Even with a co-signer, the unofficial rule is that urban 
female entertainers subject themselves to sexualization. Today, 
rising rappers such as Megan Thee Stallion, City Girls and 
Saweetie seemingly have to perform as vixen archetypes as well 
as perform flawless bars. 

The number of female rappers signed to major labels has 
dropped precipitously since the late-1980s and early-1990s hey- 
day, when more than 40 women had major deals at one time. 
In 2010, three did. To this day, only six female rappers have 
reached number one on the Billboard Hot 100. Those granted 
stardom are a reflection of mainstream values and ideals, which 
are often sexist and racist. But celebrity also offers a means of 
challenging those norms. By acknowledging these truths and 
refusing to be anybody but her authentic self, Frasqueri is caus- 
ing a disruption. 

^I love being proud of how studly I am, how boyish and how 
manly I can appear. I love being androgynous," she says. ^I feel 
beautiful like that. It's just another beautiful side of me." 

Beyond “Tomboy,” Frasqueri's catalogue feels boundless. On 


20145 Metallic Butterfly, she explores 
trip-hop mixed with sci-fi-inspired рор 
and Afro-Latin beats. The first track, “Пі- 
mensia," announces on top of reverber- 
ations, “Welcome to Metallic Butterfly, 
where you are now free/On this planet, 
you are now released of all plague, hate 
and disease." She suggests young girls 
seek out respect and describes herself as 
an anomaly, sliding back and forth be- 
tween spoken word and chants over bub- 
bly beats. 1002 Deluxe stars a darker, 
swaggier Frasqueri who doesn't ask for re- 
spect; she demands it. Her power stance 
widens on “G.O.A.T,” on which she rat- 
tles with the profound confidence born of 
being a “weird girl." 

Just when the industry assumed 
Frasqueri would stay on the path of hard 
anthems, she abandoned bravado on the 
2018 mixtape A Girl Cried Red, a nod to 
the post-hardcore-punk-rock subgenre of 
emo. There, she trades rapping for sing- 
ing of loneliness and depression. 

Her forthcoming album promises to be 
a layered and stunning work. Untitled at 
press time, the project will be her first to 
benefit from having new legal and man- 
agement representation. 

“Sugar Honey Iced Tea (S.H.LT.),” 
her newest single, presents a version of 


PLAYBOY 111 


Frasqueri that honors her previous musical tropes Бу weaving 
them together. In the track's video, a parody of beauty pageants, 
jazz horns and gospel vocals erupt as the defiant rapper gazes at 
her reflection in a dressing-room mirror; a line of competitors 
zhuzh in the background. 

“These bitches don't like me/These bitches wanna fight 
me/ And doing shit just to spite me.” When she wins the pageant, 
she floats down the runway, resembling the Virgin Mary. 

“I know I hold my principles and my virtues so deeply that you 
will never take me from that peacefulness,” she says of the video's 
meaning. “And you can never take that crown away from me.” 

A long white lace уе! and a large crown indeed adorn Frasqueri 
in that video, and the song's lyrics also revisit tales from her less- 
than-perfect past. “I’m on the train throwing soup,” she raps, 
referencing her reaction to a man on New York's L train who had 
been slinging racial slurs at a group of teenage boys. Frasqueri's 
soup-throwing made headlines two years ago, and it's a moment 
she doesn't want us to forget. “I love to throw hands on racists, 
bigots and scum,” she raps. Frasqueri ends the video by passing 
the crown to a young girl. 

“That's who I am in real life. I'm hood, and I'm very involved 
at the same time, and that gives me a lot of wisdom," she says. “It 
allows me to love myself and love my people. It allows me to see 
how conditioned people around me are and not to blame them for 
their pain. It also makes me strong enough to know that I am not 
passive, and if it really comes to that, we can take it there. I need 
to fight for the things that matter." 

Frasqueri identifies as a santera, a priestess of Santería, her 
family's practice. Santería is a religion that took root among 
Afro-Cuban slaves in the Caribbean. Many of its practices are 
kept secret to avoid persecution, but the faction is known to wor- 
ship the gods of West Africa, known as orishas, who are seen as 
nature personified. 

Perhaps her worship of Mother Nature is why Frasqueri 


12 MUSIC 


wanted to embody the four elements 
in PLAYBOY, complete with snakes and 
doves. "Snakes are earth, and they 
ground you and make you feel pure and 
whole,” she says. “I love my body. I know 
that I embody the four elements in a very 
profound way, as every woman does, and 
as every person does." 

Frasqueri, born in New York, grew up 
without the guidance of her own mother. 
Her childhood had been marked by a 
loving family with a fondness for hip- 
hop and a beloved goth babysitter who 
introduced her to heavy metal. Then, 
when Frasqueri was still a child, her 
mother died of AIDS. Shortly after, her 
grandmother died. Frasqueri was then 
placed in foster care; at the age of 16 she 
ran away from an abusive foster home in 
East Harlem. 

Frasqueri found comfort in New York's 
queer community. The maestros of the 
city's LGBTQ nightlife taught her how to 
entertain while standing up for her fellow 
outsiders. Today she continues to empa- 
thize with the often forgotten, including 
the 3.4 million people in Puerto Rico 
struggling to rebuild after Hurricane 
Maria tore through the island in Sep- 
tember 2017. That month, Frasqueri set 
up an independent disaster-relief fund 
to aid the territory her family is from. In 
June 2018, she canceled a performance in 
Mexico City to focus on relief work. She 
founded Hood 2 La Gente, a campaign to 
support communities affected by the nat- 
ural disaster. Last February, she head- 
lined a show at the University of Puerto 
Rico's Río Piedras campus. The event was 
unlike any of her previous productions: 
Organized by a university queer-activism 
collective, it opened with an act that spot- 
lighted performers from the city's alter- 
native LGBTQ scene. 

"It was something very powerful for 
me," she says. The show was free; no 
bouncers surrounded the small stage, 
and the audience was treated to an im- 
promptu meet-and-greet. 

"There's so much racism, homophobia, 
transphobia and corruption," she says of 
Puerto Rico, which, as of 2018, has a pov- 
erty rate of almost 45 percent. “It was 
nice that everyone was in a place where 


"уе been called hurtful 
things based оп who lam, 
оп my spiritualism, on ry 
astrological planning chart, 
om my duality.” 


mm _ 


one 


5. а. 
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PLAYBOY 113 


14 MUSIC 


| Шанақ йа 


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“2. 


they didn't have to fear, because they were 
surrounded by people just like them.” 

The people in that venue, on that 
warm evening in the island's capital, 
likely understood Frasqueri better than 
many of her peers. In an industry run 
on the iPhones of agents, managers and 
publicists, she chooses to work with a 
small crew and without a record deal. 

"I always have to fight for my seat at the 
table, because no one is going to give it to 
me—and I've accepted that," she says. 

Frasqueri has formidable engagement 
on social media, with more than 1 mil- 
lion monthly listeners on Spotify and 
almost 40 million views on YouTube to 
date. The “Sugar Honey Iced Tea” music 
video broke 1 million views within a 
month of its release. At the same time, 
Frasqueri points out that people have 
deemed her "crazy," “fake” and a “fraud” 
because, according to her, she makes 
people uncomfortable. 

“Т find that really unfortunate, because 
I make it so easy. I've made it very easy for 
people to understand те,” she says. 

Frasqueri could be perceived as a 


woman of contradictions: She loves empowering others, but 
she'll fight if she needs to. She wants to maintain artistic free- 
dom, but she signed a distribution deal. "Gemini," another 
track from her new album, may be the most concise sugges- 
tion of who Princess Nokia is: ^Two heads, one eye," she raps, 
accompanied by swirling instruments. 

"In my new album I'm trying to embody how special my sign 
makes me and how unique it's made my career," she says. "I've 
been called lots of hurtful things based on who I am, on my spiri- 
tualism, on my astrological planning chart, on my duality." 

Despite the heartache that comes with feeling misunderstood, 
Frasqueri's connections to spirituality, nature and the world 
keep her going. “I make great art, and I make art that inspires 
others. That's all that matters. The other stuff that comes after, 
that's up to God, you know?" she says. ^When the world needs re- 
minding of my greatness, I'm there to remind them, but I'm not 
here to whine. I continue." 


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Ба: 


“Ready...one, two, three!” 

It's 4:30 P.M. on a Thursday, and JR and Jerry Saltz are jump- 
ing. The French artist and the Pulitzer Prize-winning art critic 
bend their knees and bounce, striking a running-man pose 
mid-flight. Behind them is The Chronicles of New York City, a 
32-foot-wide, 21-foot-tall black-and-white mural featuring 1,128 
New Yorkers of every age and ilk, from movie stars to cops. JR 
spent a year photographing and interviewing each of them be- 
fore digitally collaging their portraits into a single, sweeping 


Ап eminent critic 
and a boundary- 
breaking artist 
convene for a rare 
téte-a-téte—and 
demonstrate that 
sometimes the 
most powerful 
insiders enter from 
the outside 


New York cityscape. 

Click-click-click-click. Acamera flashes, 
and their landing thuds echo through the 
Brooklyn Museum's Great Hall. 

"Exactly," JR nods approvingly. 

“Wait—I have moobs!" exclaims Saltz, 
clutching his chest in mock distress. 
Laughter erupts from the smattering of 
people on Playboy's makeshift set. 

Today marks the first time the two men 
have met, but they have much in common. 
In addition to being New Yorkers, both are 
self-taught outsiders—Saltz was a truck 
driver until the age of 41, and JR usually 
prefers open spaces to white walls—who 
have become powerful insiders by insisting 
that art is for everyone, not just the people 


interview ву JERRY SALTZ 


who flock to museums and auctions. 

We're here for a private preview of JR: 
Chronicles, the artist's first major museum 
show in North America and his largest ex- 
hibit to date. Now 36 years old, he is best 
known for wheat-pasting colossal black- 
and-white portraits onto buildings, bridges and the surfaces of 
geopolitical hot spots around the world. From favela matriarchs 
in Brazil to a toddler peering over a U.S.-Mexico border fence, his 
subjects are usually people whose portraits you wouldn't expect 
to see exhibited publicly, let alone at skyscraper scale. 

The artist goes exclusively by his initials and usually dons 
shades and a fedora in public—an effort at semi-anonymity 
that ensures smooth passage across international borders. He 
also reasons that disclosing his identity would pull focus away 


ART BY JR 


TERMINUS 


шин 
om 


from his subjects and the conversations 
their portraits can spark. (Saltz calls 
him an "inclusive version of Banksy.") 

The year 2019 was a big one for JR. In 
addition to unveiling the largest show of 
his career, the self-described “wallpa- 
per artist" photographed Madonna for 
the cover of The New York Times Maga- 
zine and, in an astounding feat of tromp 
l'oeil, submerged the Louvre's glass pyr- 
amid in a moat of paper and glue. JR: 
Chronicles, a 20,000-square-foot sur- 
vey on view in Brooklyn until May 2020, 
spans 15 years of his career and marks 
the first time the museum has dedi- 
cated its Great Hall to a single artist. 
The aforementioned Chronicles of New 
York City, which includes an audio re- 
cording of each subject, is arguably JR's 
most ambitious project yet. (You can 
hear each interview via the QR code that 
appears below.) Part love letter to New 
York and part Diego Rivera mural for 
the digital age, the artist calls his cre- 
ation "a mirror of the city." 

However you characterize it, the piece 
brings to life one of the most resonant 
qualities of JR's work: a multilayered ex- 
pression of democratized art. 

The day after a star-studded reception, 
during which the artist spent more time 
catching up with a local butcher than he 
did side-hugging Jake Gyllenhaal, JR and 
Saltz stroll the museum, going deep on 
the work and their unlikely paths to the 
upper echelons of the art world. Read on 
for a sliver of that hour-plus conversation, 
which touches on teenage arrests, the no- 
tion of "radical vulnerability, grand- 
mothers, Robert De Niro, the power of 
failure and much more.— Elizabeth Suman 


Opening pages: The Chronicles of New York City, 2018-2019. 

Left: ROL.K, métro, Paris, France, 2002. JR started writing graffiti 
on walls at the age of 13; when he found a camera in the Paris 
Metro a few years later, he switched to covering them with 
portraits. Opposite page: JR au Louvre et le Secret de la Grande 
Pyramide, 2019. Last spring, in celebration of the Louvre Pyramid's 
30th birthday, the artist, using 2,000 paper strips and 400 


volunteers, made the structure appear to be rising from a quarry. 


179 


(freee. 1| 8 


| 


SALTZ: Last night there were thousands of people here, from 
every walk of life. І saw Chris Rock. I saw Jake Gyllenhaal. But 
then І saw hundreds of people I never see in a museum—street 
artists, neighborhood people—and they were taking pictures 
and pointing at each other. And here we are, surrounded by a 
gigantic mural of the people and places of New York City that 
you've arranged. What is going on here? 

JR: Like you said, it's people. And actually, even if last night you 
saw some people who might be more famous than others—well, 
if they're in this mural, they're not bigger than anyone else. It's 
not a group photo; it's a group of photos, where no one person is 
more important than another. So Robert De Niro, who was there 
last night, he's sitting on a stoop with other people, just blend- 
ing in. And every single person here decided to represent them- 
selves the way they wanted. I didn't decide how they were going 
to be represented. They decided. 

SALTZ: It's like a mural of modern life for future historians. 
There are spectacular Renaissance murals in Venice and Rome, 
where painters were painting huge crowd scenes like this. Do 
you think of these as gigantic frescoes of a time and a place? It's 
a living encyclopedia. 


JR: Definitely. This is exactly the same thing, but the contem- 
porary version of it, which is that you can listen to every single 
person and hear what they have to say. And those interviews are 
not conducted. It's not like “How do you define yourself?” It's 
“Here's a mike; you say whatever you want to say. One day your 
grandchildren will hear it. What would you want to say?” 

SALTZ: As a viewer, І can read or hear those interviews. But first 
is the optical impact. It's almost beyond real —overwhelming, 
breathtaking, incomprehensible. It's almost inhuman, like an 
insect-eye view of the world. How was this made? 

JR: Well, it's a collage, so actually it's in the line of work Гуе 
been doing, because I'm a wallpaper artist at the end. 

SALTZ: What's a wallpaper artist? Is that bad? 

JR: No! I unroll strips on walls. People think I'm a photogra- 
pher. I'm not. Photography is just part of my process. I'm an 
artist who uses paper as my main subject, and I paste it. 

SALTZ: There are lots of mini-narratives and dramas. It's like 
10,000 soap operas. There's a group of B-boys and another of 
firefighters. There might be a painter or a sculptor working. 

JR: Yes. People just reading, people hugging in the middle of 
the city. It's a mirror of the city. I've lived here for almost nine 


PLAYBOY 119 


Above: 28 Millimëtres, 


Portrait of a Generation, 
Braquage, Ladj Ly 

by JR, Les Bosquets 
Montfermeil, 2004. JR's 
seminal work: a portrait 
of friend and filmmaker 
Ladj Ly wielding a video 
camera. The piece led 
to the series Portrait of a 
Generation, a response 
to the media's portrayal 
of young people from 
the projects. Left: 28 
Millimetres, Face 2 Face, 
2007. For this, perhaps 
the largest illegal 
photography exhibition 
on record, JR (and nuns) 
pasted portraits of Arabs 
and Jews, printed on 
15,000 square feet of 
paper, in cities across 


Israel and Palestine. 


years. Living here I had one vision of New York. But doing this 
mural is an excuse to go into every borough, into every neigh- 
borhood, and tap on anyone's shoulder and say, “Who are you?" 
SALTZ: Let me ask a specific question. There are about 25 peo- 
ple in the center sucking on long, long straws. What the fuck is 
going on? 

JR: Well, that was kind of a metaphor for all the people drinking 
juice all day and all the green juice in the city. 

SALTZ: Right? It’s insane. So that’s a comment about how people 
are always trying to be healthy or they're busy. Are they sucking 
out our brains, mixing up the medicine? 

JR: Yeah, it's this mixture. 

SALTZ: Again, when I look at any one person, I can't really know 
if he's a movie star or an accountant or a gangster. 

JR: Yes. But if you click on him, you'll have his name and his 
story—his story however he wishes to share it. 

SALTZ: And then this makes me wonder.... You're anonymous. 
I know you only as JR. You're wearing sunglasses and a very 
stylish hat. 

JR: Thank you. I appreciate that. 

SALTZ: And incredibly good-looking. It's a nightmare for some- 
body like me. And you have charisma, so that helps you with 
other human beings. But why anonymity? You're acult, but only 
as this unknown, masked mark-maker, like Zorro or Batman. 
JR: This show actually helps me explain that. In a work like this, 
it's no use at all. 

SALTZ: They see your face? 

JR: Yeah, most of the people saw my eyes, when I was in my 
photo truck. 

SALTZ: You have peered over your glasses at me and then taken 
off your hat. Am I being seduced? What's up? 

JR: Whenever there's a camera, I tend to put on the glasses 
and hat. The thing is, when I take them off, you would not even 
recognize me at the airport or in the street. You're like, “I don't 
know this person. Who is that?" Anonymity helped me when I 


did work at the Mexico border. It was pos- 
sible only because I could cross the bor- 
der and they would not recognize me. I 
can go to Turkey and to the Middle East, 
and each time I have to pass police con- 
trol or borders, I take my hat and glasses 
off, and I'm just — 

SALTZ: You're another person. Secret 
agents and assassins blend in too. 

JR: Exactly. 

SALTZ: But in the world of art and muse- 
ums and galleries and your work, you're 
anonymous. Why? 

JR: Well, because everything is con- 
nected. If a photo taken of us today 
is published without my hat and sun- 
glasses, then when I'm at the border the 
next time, people will know my face. So I 
haven't done a photo since I was 13 years 
old that I don't have my sunglasses on. 
SALTZ: Do you think if I knew that your 
name was "Jonathan Jones" and that you 
were from Holland that you would have 
trouble passing borders as a famous art- 
ist like this? 

JR: Exactly. Look, when I did a project 
in Turkey, the city fined me. But they 
fined X, because they didn't have my 
name. I had to pay the fines through the 
company I rented the scaffolding from. 
They could never stop me when I left, 
but they would have if they knew my 
name was Jonathan Jones. Same with 
the border. 

SALTZ: Genius. You could transport 
drugs, actually. In my world, the high 
artsy-fartsy art world, everybody has a 
name. It's stardom, the cult of the male 
star, in particular. You're that, but you're 
known only as JR. That's another layer of 
anonymity. Or is it another type of fame? 
Why that layer? 

JR: Well, early on it started with graffiti. 
SALTZ: What was your name? 

JR: Face 3, but I would actually write 
“ТВ” alot. Face 3 was really the early one. 
SALTZ: But that was just generic graffiti. 
I don't like the graffiti where they're just 
writing their names. The reason I don't 
likeitisthat noone breaks out of the graf- 
fiti convention. Everyone's work looks the 
same. Only the names are different. 

JR: Exactly. 

SALTZ: Then—and I don't want you to 
be touchy about this—I think you took 
a thought structure that came through 
Banksy, where he's very antagonis- 
tic to politics and economics, and you 
made that go gigantic. You took an 
idea of graffiti, broke the earliest, bor- 
ing convention of name writing, com- 
bined it with muralists—Diego Rivera, 


PLAYBOY 121 


гог те, 
there’s 
по talooo 
subject; 
it’s about 
now deep 
VOU gO. 


as you ve talked about. And then the paper; I think the paper 
is key for you. 

JR: Yeah. Look, I wish I could say it in those words. It’s probably 
right. The thing is you have to go back to when I was 17. I knew 
nothing about Banksy or about Shepard Fairey. 

SALTZ: Can you say what year it was? 

JR: It was exactly 2000. 

SALTZ: And was Banksy a god? No. He was just an English guy. 
JR: Exactly. Doing graffiti too, actually. 

SALTZ: I heard arumor he went to an expensive art school. 

JR: I have never been to art school. 

SALTZ: Me neither. No art in my life. 

JR: That’s why I love talking with you. 

SALTZ: Art was for smart people. 

JR: I think that’s why I came so naturally into the art world: be- 
cause I didn’t even know there was an art world. 

SALTZ: I have no degrees. I was a long-distance truck driver 
until the age of 41. 

JR: I love that. 

SALTZ: You started at 13? 

JR: Yes. I'm 36 now. When I was 13, I started writing my name 
on the wall. When I was 16, a friend of mine came to me and 
said, “JR, I’ve got to stop graffiti because I think what we’re 
doing here is we’re a victim of a society of consumers. We’re 
writing our name every day like all those brands around us.” 
I was like, “Are you crazy?” Then it hit me, and I’m like, “You 
know what? I’m actually really bad at it anyway. I don’t even 
know how to make a colorful painting. It’s all the same.” Luck- 
ily for me I found a camera, but photography was a rich sport. 
Photography was not accessible to everybody, and that’s where I 
think if I was born 10 years earlier, there would be none of what 
I’ve done. 

SALTZ: Because then you would’ve had to pay for film and 
developing — 


122 


тв: And travel. Low-cost travel arrived exactly in my genera- 
tion. The internet arrived exactly in my generation. So I didn’t 
know Basquiat, Keith Haring. 

SALTZ: You re an outsider, untrained. 

JR: Completely. 

SALTZ: And that’s why you had to invent the entire process? 

JR: To be honest, at 17, when I pasted the Champs-Elysées with 
my tiny photos [Expo 2 Rue], I thought Га made it. I thought 
there was no other journey. My goal, as someone who grew up 
outside Paris, in the projects, was “I have to put my photos on 
the Champs-Elysées.” And I did it! 

SALTZ: People like me, creatures of the high-art world, weren't 
coming to your openings in the past five years. We've come only 
recently. What do you think of that? 

JR: Well, for me it's getting more and more exciting, because, 
like last night, I can merge—my whole goal is to merge. Merge 
the worlds without high-class, low-class, famous, nonfamous. 
When people gather there, they realize they all have something 
in common. They've never met; now they're part of the same 
piece forever. 

SALTZ: That seems like a big theme in your work. It isn't like 
Banksy, who says, “This is very bad." He's very pointed and 
harsh in his critiques of society, income inequality or whatever. 
You are without commentary, in a way. 

JR: Who am I to comment? 

SALTZ: Many of your pictures are just groupings of people. Why 
are they black and white? 

JR: Black and white started because I wanted to differentiate my- 
self from advertising, which I hold a big stand against. I haven't 
worked with any brand, any sponsor, any logo in 20 years—no 
Louis Vuitton, Colgate or whatever at the entrance ofthe museum. 
SALTZ: So if I was Louis Vuitton and said, "I'd love you to make 
us a gigantic picture," you would say—— 

JR: And you bring me $20 million, I still say no. 

SALTZ: You would say, "I will make it for $20 million but no 
insignia." 

JR: Even then, I wouldn't even start a discussion. 

SALTZ: How do you make money now? 

JR: Most of my work doesn't make money. But one percent of it.... 

SALTZ: Like a lot of artists. 

JR: Yeah, 99 percent doesn't make money, but the one percent 
makes enough to publish the rest. 

SALTZ: You self-financed to get here and become this artist you 
are now. 

JR: Exactly. I self-finance, or sometimes there's a foundation or 
someone. 

SALTZ: How did you self-finance 10 years ago? 

JR: Even with my first project in the projects outside Paris, all 
my friends pooled some money. Each of them gave 50 bucks, 100 
bucks. So I know I don't need to have a 100-person studio in the 
most impressive building to be functioning. I know I can func- 
tion with nothing, because I did it. 

SALTZ: You have a real affinity for women, powerful women. 
What do you think accounts for that? I don't want to ruin your 
anonymity, but does this connect to your mother? 

JR: Yeah. I grew up living with my grandmother but also taking 
care of elderly women in my building, in the projects. 

SALTZ: Would I have heard of the place you grew up? 

JR: It’s a project a bit like the one where I took most of my photos, 
but another one. 

SALTZ: Okay. So you were middle-class, roughly. 

JR: Yeah, low middle-class. 


RH ы T NNI" к 


Ін) 
ма ана 
CE 


Od 


Top: The Ballerina Jumping in Containers, France, 2014. Considering his penchant 


for jumping, JR's affinity for dance is unsurprising; in 2014, he choreographed a 


production for the New York City Ballet. Above: Inside Out, Times Square, 2013. 
In 2011, JR became the first artist to win a TED Prize. He put the purse toward 
the launch of this ongoing interactive project, which allows anyone anywhere 
to organize portrait-pastings. Left: 28 Millimétres, Women Are Heroes, Action 

in the Favela Morro da Providéncia, 2008. A scene from Women Are Heroes, a 


2008-2014 project that focuses on portraits of women living in areas of conflict. 


PLAYBOY 123 


124 


SALTZ: бо you have а mother. Did she ар- 
prove of the JR entity when he would run 
around? Were you on drugs in those days? 
JR: I never drank or took drugs, but I was 
into groups of friends fighting. 

SALTZ: Did you fight? 

JR: Yes, and I had a lot of trouble with the 
police at that age. 

SALTZ: Did you carry a gun? 

JR: No, but my friend did. Or knives. And 
I have to say, at that time my parents were 
really worried. One day, I remember the 
police called them, and they had to come 
pick me up in Paris because I was arrested 
for graffiti. Му mom was like, “What did 
he do?" They said, ^Well, he tagged on 
the wall." And she was like, “Oh, and you 
want me to come all the way to Paris be- 
cause he tagged on the wall? Well, you can 
keep him." Boom. And so that day I was 
like, “ОКау, ГП find myself a passion." 
Then I have a goal: My goal is to make 
that roof, however I get there. It's to go 
into that tunnel, however I do it. And then 
slowly I started changing from the groups 
of friends who were just making trouble to 
the groups of friends who were looking to 
climb the highest building or TV antenna. 
SALTZ: I think your work is changing right 
now. I think something's going on. I know 
something needs to change so you're not 
just this fancy-pants big photo-mural guy 
with a hat and sunglasses. 

JR: Well, I hope to constantly be changing. 


SALTZ: You need to be changing, because otherwise, like most 
graffiti artists—and you're not that—they get one style and that's 
it. That isn't a good thing, JR. Are you boxing yourself in, becom- 
ing just another visual brand? 

JR: But that's why I directed a ballet. I made a film with Agnes 
Varda. That's why I'm always pushing myself in areas I don't 
know anything about, always. 

SALTZ: Right. 

JR: Because I want to fail. I think there's nothing better than try- 
ing a project where there's more failure than success. I put my- 
self in this constantly, and I think that if not, there's no point to 
being an artist if you're doing everything the same that people 
like because it works. 

SALTZ: That's just product. 

JR: Yeah, exactly. So I didn't choose that journey to just repeat 
myself. 

SALTZ: Samuel Beckett said, "Try again, fail again, fail better." 
JR: Exactly. 

SALTZ: Well, wow, JR. This is an amazing journey you've taken. 
I feel lucky in a way—you don't normally do press like this. What 
made you say yes to PLAYBOY? You're not being paid; there's no 
dough here. And it's, um, PLAYBOY. 

JR: You know, one thing I realized a couple of years ago when I 
stopped doing press is that I had so much more time. I didn't 
have to wake up at seven A.M. to go to a radio station. I also real- 
ized that often you don't have the space to talk. If we were talking 
for 10 minutes, however great you are in 10 minutes, it doesn't 
get to Ше depths of the work. So it’s better that people don’t know 
about it. When I put my work on the street, it's not even signed. 
It's only the people who want to find out what it is who will find 
out. If not, they walk every day in front of a black-and-white 
image not knowing what it is. So the reason I said yes to this in- 
terview is really because we would have space, and also when I 
heard I could meet you and we could have this conversation. 
SALTZ: That's why I said yes, because I never interview art- 
ists. Ever. I always think I don't want them to tell me what they 
think; I want to say what I think. You made your work, now I 
want to tell you what I see. And in your latest work especially, I 
see real art. 

JR: Thank you. I could speak for hours like this, because for me, 
there's no taboo subject; it's about how deep you go. 

SALTZ: No taboo. Radical vulnerability. Time to push the outer 
boundaries of what you can do now. 

JR: Exactly. E 


PLAYBOY 125 


РНОТОСКАРНУ ВУ 
ADRIENNE RAQUEL 


FEP R UL AIRY РЪДТМ АТ Е 


PLAYBOY 12/ 


Join February Playmate— 

and Army veteran and future 
politician—Chasity Samone 

for a night of cinematic splendor 


As a kid, I used to tell on my brother for stealing our dad's 
PLAYBOY magazines. But then I saw that Naomi Campbell 
issue—the one where she's riding a giant chocolate Playboy 
Rabbit—and it made me think, I'm going to do that. I'm going 
to model for PLAYBOY. 

Тотем ар in Dallas as number seven out of 11 children—seven 
girls and four boys. It was a little bit chaotic, but we were like a 
big happy Brady Bunch family. (Even today, we all live within a 
seven-mile radius.) My father was a veteran, and when I gradu- 
ated from high school I followed in his footsteps and enlisted 
inthe Army. I went to Fort Jackson and was basically a human- 
resource specialist. "Paper pushers" is what they used to call 
us. I learned a lot about breathing, actually; I learned that it's 
the most essential thing in life and works for everything. I was 
an expert shooter because I had good breathing techniques. 

After I decided not to re-enlist, modeling really just fell into 
my lap. An agent posted a photo of me on Facebook, like, “Who 
is this girl?" All my friends started tagging me, and then the 
agent asked me to do a shoot with her. I did it, and I haven't 
stopped since. 

I want people to feel something when they look at my pic- 
tures. A lot of people are inspired by my art, and that's why I'm 
in love with it: because I inspire. 

It's liberating to shoot nude, and I feel powerful embracing 
my sexuality. It's an emotional experience for me because I 


128 


didn't see a lot of women like me celebrated on a platform like 
this. I hope my pictorial inspires other women to feel powerful 
and beautiful in the same way. (As far as my shoot, Adrienne 
Raquel was absolutely amazing—one of the most talented pho- 
tographers I've ever worked with. She made me feel both confi- 
dent and comfortable in my own skin.) 

I'm excited to use my platform in PLAYBOY because I want 
young black women to see themselves represented. As much as 
the industry has changed in recent years, there's still a lot of 
work to be done. Just a few weeks ago I worked with a makeup 
artist who didn't have the right foundation for my skin color, 
so clearly beauty standards need to be expanded. That's why 
I'm still modeling. 

My long-term goal is to be a politician. I'm going to run for 
city council in Dallas and just move on up from there. Equal 
pay is one ofthe biggest things I would look at—it's insane that 
black women earn 61 cents to every white man's dollar—but 
there are so many local issues I want to address, like redlining 
and access to education. (I grew up in the hood, and my school 
never even got good books; my friend went to a "good school" 
where everything was new.) I would love to be a part of that 
change for future generations. 

To all the girls looking through PLAYBOY the same way I 
looked at Naomi Campbell 20 years ago, I want to tell you: You 
can do it. It's possible. Anything is possible. 


PLAYBOY 131 


“ 


DATA SHEET 


BIRTHPLACE: Oak Cliff, Texas CURRENT CITY: Los Angeles, California 


ON THE WRITTEN WORD 


Right now I'm reading about emotional 
intelligence, and it's helping me learn 
the ways people adjust to the world 
and why. People need to understand 
that most of our emotions come from 
childhood, and toxic emotions and 
trauma change the way people be- 
have. Oh, and my favorite author is 
Malcolm Gladwell. 


ON FAITH 


My mom and dad were both Baptists, 
and | was raised going to church every 
Sunday and Wednesday like a real 
Southern girl. As an adult, faith is ev- 
erything to me. And | know that faith 
without work is dead, so prayer is part 
of my daily routine. 


ON NUDITY 


| love it. | helped my mom and sisters 
get comfortable with themselves be- 
cause | always walk around naked. 


don't care, | really don't. When | get out 
of the shower, | like to air dry. I'll prob- 
ably even forget that I’m naked—and 
that people have a problem with that. 


ON VOYEURISM 


My guilty pleasure is watching YouTube 
videos of people eating. Not cooking 
shows. Not ASMR. Just eating. | can 
watch it all day. 


ON STYLE 


How would | describe my personal 
style? Sexy. | like my boobs. Feeling 
sexy makes me feel strong, untouch- 
able and powerful—like a queen. 


ON BEDROOM EQUALITY 


If | have sex and he doesnt bother to 
make me come, that's a deal breaker! 
| wouldn't have sex with that person 
again, even if | loved him. That's equal- 
ity right there! Also, men don't think 


we use toys and vibrators, but dont 
be afraid to get out a machine and do 
what you have to do. It's great for cou- 
ples to experiment with toys together. 


ON MUSIC 


I'm obsessed with а pop artist from 
London named Bree Runway. She 
writes her own music, and she's iconic 
to me! Im still patiently waiting for 
Rihanna to drop her next album-like, 
bitch, it's taking you so long! I’m also 
listening to Summer Walker, Ari Len- 
nox, Beyoncé, Megan Thee Stallion 
and Saweetie. Saweetie is fire; that's 
my bitch. 


ON ROLE MODELS 


As a Ка, | always looked up to my dad. 
He was the ultimate: He took care of 
my mom and all 11 children. He had 
certain quotes Пей say to each of us, 
and the one he picked for me was “Do 
the right thing” It's my daily reminder. 


PLAYBOY 1/1 


ALVWAW 1d OZOZ Auvnuaid 


4 
ж 
$ 


ж 
” 


31VWAV'Id 0202 АЯУПЯЯ384ӛ 


РНОТОСКАРНУ ВУ КАМУА IWANA 


Sex, nudes апа 
social media took 
down the woman 
who represented 

a moderate future 
for Democrats. 
Now she's ready 
to stand up again, 
freer than ever 


ey ANITA LITTLE 


In early October, in the quiet commuter town of Santa 
Clarita, California, I spent a balmy afternoon with then 
congresswoman Katie Hill. It was exactly two weeks before in- 
timate photos of her began to trickle out of the dark, far-right 
corners of the internet and about three weeks before she would 
announce her resignation. 

At that time, this story was shaping up to be very different 
from the one you're about to read. 1 would shadow Hill, a Demo- 
crat, throughout the valley she calls home, giving an inside look 
at the challenges young women face when they 
enter the political sphere. 1 would observe 
the bright, shiny parts, such as Hill meet- 
ing special-education students at a local el- 
ementary school, giving a commencement 
address at a college and attending a charity 
fund-raiser for children with cancer. 1 would 
hear tip-of-the-iceberg hints of her struggles, 
such as fighting to speak without being inter- 
rupted at a Chamber of Commerce meeting 
and being told to smile more by constituents. 
I wasn't expecting anything to twist the arc I 
had already outlined of a millennial woman 
ascending to the halls of power. 

Then, on October 17, I received a call from a 
staffer who sounded harried, asking that I re- 
frain from mentioning in the piece Hill's on- 
going divorce from Kenny Heslep, her partner 
of nearly 10 years. It was implied he had be- 
come increasingly volatile. I felt apprehensive 
after the call; I sensed something was coming 
but wasn't sure what it might be. 

The next day, the conservative site Red- 
State published a blog post detailing a consensual polyamour- 
ous affair the congresswoman and Heslep had had with a 
campaign staffer. The post also included a nude photo of Hill. 
It was soon followed by a piece in the British tabloid Daily Mail, 
where more photos were released. They spread across social 
media like wildfire—just as multiple literal fires were raging 
across southern California. 

“Ме found out they had 700 more files," Hill would later tell me 
over the phone. “Т just didn't know how long this was going to go 
on, or what else they were going to have, or how I was going to be 
able to do the work that mattered to people in my district." 

Suddenly, a story that was supposed to be straightforward was 
radioactive. No one knew howto address this uniquely millennial 
“sex scandal," and few wanted to touch it. A local assemblyper- 
son who had agreed to be interviewed backed out. A member of 
Congress whom I'd already spoken to scrambled to retract their 
statements. On-the-record sources quickly became background 
or off the record completely. By the time I filed, Hill had given 
her farewell address from the floor of the House of Representa- 
tives, and Heslep, according to his father, had denied leaking 
the images, claiming he'd been hacked. I watched in real time as 


Hill's freshman promise was taken down 
in a dazzling conflagration that could 
only exist at the intersection of sex, power 
and technology. 

Hill was part of a great new hope, a 
wave of young progressives who had been 
ushered into the 116th Congress in the 
aftermath of Hillary Clinton's presiden- 
tiallossin 2016. Her underdog campaign 
was proof of the resilience and resource- 
fulness of millennials—proof that when 
we fight, we can sometimes win. 

For Hill's generation in particular, 
her ousting sparks a special kind of 
dread; it feels either very familiar or 
very possible. Millennials are the in- 
ternet generation, after all. As Republi- 
can congressman Matt Gaetz suggested 
in a tweet amid the scandal, who among 
us would look good if a vengeful ex-lover 
shared every intimate photo or text? 
In this brave new digital world, lapses 
in judgment and moments of abandon 
are forever catalogued, waiting to be de- 
ployed should someone ever come into 
power or just happen to be a woman. 

^I hate that they won. I hate that I did 
end up quitting, but the GOP made it clear 
that they were going to continue this until 
I quit,” Hill says. 

By the time this profile hits newsstands, 
I imagine people will likely have come to 
their own conclusions. So this isn't just a 
story about Katie Hill the victim of alleged 
revenge porn, or Katie Hill the hashtagged 


PLAYBOY 1/3 


144 PROFILE 


cautionary tale. This 
is about Katie Hill the 
congresswoman-the 
Katie Hill her 700,000 
constituents lost when 
she was driven out by 
cyber exploitation. And 
this is about Katie Hill 
the survivor. 

The first time I for- 
mally met Hill was in 
her Santa Clarita office. 
The space was sparsely 
decorated save for a few 
framed photographs, 
one of which was of the 
nearby Vasquez Rocks. 
НШ occupied offices 
across the 25th Congres- 
sional District, about a 
half hour north of Los 
Angeles and comprising 
the cities of Santa Clar- 
ita, Palmdale, Lancaster 
and Simi Valley. 

Hill has a direct man- 
ner of speaking that some might describe as brusque. She often 
wears a severe, unflappable expression that has been referred 
to as “resting bitch face,” otherwise known as “a face” on men. 
She walks at a fleet-footed pace, opting to take the stairs when- 
ever she can; as a public official, she never had time to exercise. 
In a different world these characteristics would be genderless, 
but during her time as a candidate and then a congresswoman, 
they took on a weight she often found exasperating. 

“You instantly have criticism about every single bit of your at- 
tire, your face, your makeup, your hair,” she said, gesturing to- 
ward the tightly secured bun sitting atop her head. 

When the now 32-year-old Hill unseated Republican incum- 
bent Steve Knight in November 2018 in a hotly contested race, 
the win made national headlines. Someone who never thought 
she would be a politician was thrust into a spotlight that felt all 
the more blinding because she was a woman and even more so 
because she was openly bisexual and the first LGBTQ congress- 
woman from California. This was no small feat in a district 
where Proposition 8, the same-sex-marriage ban, had passed 
overwhelmingly just a decade earlier. 

Hill recalled other LGBTQ representatives advising her to pass 
as straight. “They said, You're married to a man. Why would you 
come out as bi?”” 

In the year following her election, the former nonprofit direc- 
tor spent her days shuttling back and forth across her district 
and the country. Spending more than half her time in Wash- 
ington, D.C., Hill turned into a nomad in her hometown—the 
place where she learned to ride a horse, experienced young love 
and suffered through the requisite ill-advised bob cut of late 
girlhood. The confusion that accompanies such a lifestyle shift 
became evident when she mistakenly referred to Washington 


as her home before catching herself. “I’m liter- 
ally on a plane, on an average week, for 12 hours,” 
she told me. 

A closer look at the district she represents re- 
veals communities that are so disparate, it's as- 
tounding she engaged enough voters to pull off 
a win. There's upper-middle-class Santa Clarita 
with its beloved Six Flags Magic Mountain theme 
park; the high-desert cities of Palmdale and Lan- 
caster with their growing Latino populations; and 
traditionally conservative Simi Valley, a bedroom 
community for Los Angeles County police. Hill 
mentions the 1992 trial there of the LAPD officers 
charged with use of excessive force during their 
arrest of Rodney King—and the L.A. riots follow- 
ing their acquittal. 

The demographics of the district are difficult 
to thumbnail, but so is Hill. She's a gun owner, 
an outspoken member of the LGBTQ commu- 
nity, a goat farmer, a sexual-assault survivor, 
a proud community college graduate and the 
daughter of a cop who cast his first vote for a 
Democrat when she ran. 

As I trailed Hill through an average day in the 
district, attending speaking engagements and 
meetings at places that ranged from a virtually 
all-white country club to the diverse California 
Institute of the Arts campus to a majority minor- 
ity trade school, I witnessed her seamlessly nav- 
igate the different enclaves. For the college visit 
she sported a T-shirt and jeans. Upon arriving at 
Valencia Country Club for a Chamber of Com- 
merce town hall and spotting a DRESS CODE ENFORCED 
stencil on a window, she grabbed a suit from a 
staffer's car kept on hand for just such an occasion. 

Besides the code-switching required of any 
politician who represents a district as mixed 
as the 25th, Hill's biggest challenge was trans- 
lating to her constituents the work she does 
on Capitol Hill—namely, her push for afford- 
able housing and health care reform. In an age 
of fringe politics, she often comes across as a 
kitchen-table moderate. 

“When the two most commonly known names 
are Donald Trump and AOC, and people tend to 
associate an entire group with one or the other, I 
don't think that's necessarily healthy," she said. 
"A lot of what's happening in the middle, which is 
the majority of the country, is not amplified." 

I asked Hill if the ascent of Representative Alex- 
andria Ocasio-Cortez as the most recognizable face 
of the Democratic Party had led to misperceptions. 
She replied that some people have the responsibil- 
ity to ^push us as far as we can го,” but it's not usu- 
ally a reflection of where the party currently leans. 

“Her policies are the extreme of our party,” she 
added of Ocasio-Cortez. ^People have associated 
that the Democrats want to have the Green New 


Deal, right? But they don't know that we also have 
all these other, more immediately achievable solu- 
tions to addressing climate change.” 

Hill's pragmatic progressivism was what made 

her stand out in a divided Congress and what our 
political landscape will sorely miss with her res- 
ignation. Following her win in 2018, she quickly 
built a reputation as a bridge, with D.C. outlets 
touting her unusual ability to cross the aisle. She 
represented something Capitol Hill has lacked 
since Republicans won back the House during 
Barack Obama's first term. 
On the afternoon of our first interview in October, 
Hill asked if she could hitch a ride with me back 
home. I assumed she meant the three-acre Agua 
Dulce ranch she once shared with her former 
partner. Instead she directed us to a quiet residen- 
tial street in Santa Clarita lined with craftsman 
houses. As we pulled into the driveway, a German 
shepherd named Thaddeus bounded up to greet 
Hill, followed by her mother. 

In the midst of her divorce from Heslep, the pol- 
itician whose campaign Vice News termed “Ше 
most millennial ever" was doing a very millennial 
thing: moving back in with her parents. 

Unlike most citizens, Hill didn't have the luxury 
of riding out the tough moments of divorce in pri- 
vate. As soon as she was elected one of the 435 rep- 
resentatives in the House, her life became openly 
dissected and derided for all who disagreed with 
her political affiliations. 

"Its a weird thing, that you have to navigate 
being public, because it is public, right? He filed, 
and it was immediately picked up in the media," 
she told me at the time. 

Hill is unsure if she'll ever consider marriage 
again. In light of everything that has unfolded, 
it would be short-sighted to assume her career 
didn't factor into the end of her relationship. 

“ТЕТ want to be good in this role, I will not 
be in a position of ever putting someone else's 
needs first," she said. “Та the pyramid of things, 
it's going to be my constituents, then myself, 
to be able to live. And then your partner comes 
after that." 

I didn't ask about Heslep again. 

Three days after her resignation, I call Hill as 
she prepares to leave Washington, vowing to 
take her battle “outside the halls of Congress" in 
a heartfelt video posted on Twitter. The crisis is 
still fresh, the hurt still raw, and she hasn't had 
time to reflect. She hasn't spoken to other report- 
ers yet, and she preemptively apologizes if she 
sounds “mildly incoherent.” 

Hill tells me a few freshmen members of 
Congress are planning something for her that 


өө 


This is а true 
threat. mis is 
its OWN form 
oft assault. 


77 


evening. Her voice cracks ав she struggles to find Ше words to de- 
scribe it, perhaps wanting to avoid “good-bye party” or anything 
that feels final. Sighing, she settles on “little get-together.” 

She has been actively steering clear of Capitol Hill, lying low 
for security reasons, to dodge reporters and because “emotion- 
ally, it's been pretty tough.” 

She worries about other young women and girls who may de- 
cide not to run for public office after witnessing what she went 
through. Regardless of the relationship with her campaign 
staffer, her fate was decided by the photographs— not because of 
a consensual polyamorous relationship. If not for the prolifera- 
tion of these images, 
it's likely Hill would 
still be in office. 

"Thats the thing 


not even, “Оһ, it's so 


Ultimately, it wasn't sensational headlines or harassment on 
social media that prompted her decision to resign. It was her 
mother's advice. 

"She said to me, *You've done a ton, and you're going to be able 
to do more, but at the end of the day, you don't have to put yourself 
through this. You're young.’ She always sees me as her daughter 
first, and she saw how awful it was." 

Hill says her mom frequently sends her inspirational 
memes, the saccharine kind many of our boomer-age moth- 
ers exchange on the social media graveyard of Facebook. After 
our call, she forwards me one her mother shared with her when 
she was considering 
resignation. 

"When something 
goes wrong in your 


her parents, seems 


Im most concerned life, just yell 'plot 
about, she says. twist' and move on," 
"There's a whole gen- shouts the digital pep 
eration of us who have talk in a funky font. 

pictures that could be Hill, who admits 
compromising. It’s that she could be 
normal, right? It's more appreciative of 


salacious.' Everybody 
does it." 

In Hill's case, the 
photos were published 
without her consent 
or knowledge, but 
the average millen- 
nial would barely bat 
an eyelash at the will- 
ing exchange of such 
images—emphasis 
on willing. А 2017 
study from the Cyber 
Civil Rights Initiative 
found that roughly 
one in eight partici- 
pants had been ei- 
ther victims of or 
threatened with “поп- 
consensual pornog- 
raphy." Our nation's 
laws are fighting to 
keep up: Forty-six 
states, Washington, 
D.C. and the U.S. 
territory of Guam 
have passed legislation that criminalizes the publication of re- 
venge porn. 

Hill, who worked in the nonprofit sector before running for 
Congress, plans to partner with an advocacy organization to 
raise awareness of the havoc revenge porn can wreak. *The emo- 
tional trauma that it causes people is pretty much untold. This is 
а true threat. This is its own form of assault,” she says. 

Hill wasn't the only one who faced harassment with the release 
of the photos; staffers in her congressional and district offices 
had to field an onslaught of offensive phone calls. 

"They'll talk to the staff and be like, “Will you tell Katie Hill I 
want in on one of the threesomes she's having, but also she should 
get a boob job?" " 


comforted by these 
words. 

"This is a big plot 
twist, so let's see 
what the character 
makes of it,” she says. 
"That's my job." 

Before we end the 
call, I ask whether, 
despite everything 
that has happened to 
her, she might con- 
sider running for po- 
litical office again. I 
brace for a measured 
no—an echo of what 
we've heard from 
other female poli- 
ticians cheated out 
of an elected posi- 
tion, such as Stacey 
Abrams and even 
Hillary Clinton. She 
replies, "Obviously, 
Im going to need 
some time away, but 
it's almost something I want to do on principle." 

She suggests there might be some freedom in having her pri- 
vate life tossed out into the world. With no skeletons left to un- 
cover, she could become unassailable. 

"Every single bit of my dirty laundry will be out there—the 
most private things I didn't ever think would come out. I'll be 
quite literally fully exposed to the voters," she says with a laugh. 
"So judge me for what I've got." 

She finishes the thought: "This was a chapter that was impor- 
tant and that meant something. I think I have a legacy that is 
going to matter. This is just the beginning." And with that, her 
very milliennial political scandal ends with an ageless political 
message: hope. 


Jim Carrey, For Goodness Sake, 2019. Acrylic-paint pens and water-based markers on sketch paper. 


PLAYBOY 147 


PLANET VEERMANIUM 
APPEARS TO HAVE 
INHABITANTS. 


THEY SEEM RECEPTIVE TO MY 
PRESENCE -- / FORESEE RISING 
HIGH IN THIS PRIMITIVE SOCIETY. 


GREETINGS! 1 
АМ А TRAVELER - 
FROM BEYOND 
THE STARS! 


// / 


(7711) 
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I САМТ HELP BUT j IT WOULD 
NOTICE: WHAT..GENDER | HELP ME IN THAT 


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FOR ANYTHING. 


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UNDERSTAND. у VALUE OF ONE ОҒ 


A THESE THINGS? 


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CAPTAIN'S LOG. DATE UNKNOWN. 
MY SITUATION HAS CHANGED FOR 
WHAT I ASSUME IS THE BETTER. 


50..00 YOU 


GUYS THINK 
YOU NEED A 
PRESIDENT? 


Оп the need to 
shift the abortion 
rights debate from 
“My body, my 
choice!” to one that 
recognizes men as 
equal beneficiaries 


sY SHIRA TARRANT 


As a professor, a writer and an editor who has contributed to 
various texts on sexuality, including 20138 Men Speak Out: 
Views on Gender, Sex and Power and 2015's New Views on Por- 
nography: Sexuality, Politics and the Law, I receive many unso- 
licited e-mails from men filled with provocative subject matter, 
confessions about private proclivities and various forms of the 
question “Am I normal?” When it comes to pornography specif- 
ically, men are eager to share their experiences and opinions. 
But when it comes to consent or sexual assault? Crickets. The 
same goes for the subject of abortion. 

I've recently been posing a question to my 
male friends, and Га like to ask PLAYBOY's 
male readers the same: Have you thought 
about abortion lately? You know, the one 
your girlfriend had in high school? Or maybe 
the woman was your fiancée, and her family 
was conservative and religious? Has a one- 
night stand (what was her name again?) ever 
texted you, asking for $300? Do you know for 
certain whether any of the women in your 
family have had abortions? 

If you're a man, odds are you haven't had 
to spend much time reflecting on the per- 
sonal benefits of abortion, including the nu- 
merous ways in which women's access to the 
safe and (for now) legal procedure enhances 
your life. Not giving much consideration 
to abortion, I would argue, is a double privilege of benefiting 
from abortion yet not being expected to talk about it. There's 
no #ShoutYourAbortion campaign for men on Instagram and 
no #YouKnowMe hashtag wielded by male activists on Twitter. 
When journalist Liz Plank asked men to describe their experi- 
ences with abortion on Twitter in May 2019, she received only 
a smattering of disclosures among the predictable pushback 
from anti-choice tweeters and trolls. 

As things stand, women bear the stigma for aborting and the 
shame of disclosing it. With abortion rights regressing in many 


states, women now even face scrutiny 
from some feminists who believe they 
have a duty to speak about their abor- 
tions publicly. 

Men, meanwhile, benefit from this 
emotional labor. A man who goes through 
an abortion with his partner isn't ex- 
pected to defend that decision. Men are 
not expected to "shout" about it. Men do 
not have to indicate their experience with 
abortion on basic health forms that col- 
lect their personal medical history. Gen- 
erally, physicians don't ask men about 
their engagement with previous preg- 
nancies during a medical intake, a con- 
versation that could be an opportunity 
to provide accurate reproductive-health 
information. Nobody assumes men are 
whispering their abortion stories over 
steins of beer. Men aren't expected to 
share their experiences with abortion 
during intimate conversations with their 
partners when deciding to create a fam- 
ily or remain child-free. Men's freedom to 
evade this scrutiny? It adds up to a lot of 
saved mental and emotional bandwidth. 

And yet, nearly one in four women ter- 
minate a pregnancy by the time they turn 
45. That means as many as one in four 
men may have experienced abortion. 
Where legal, abortion services are pro- 
vided to women from all walks of life, all 
incomes and all religions. Fifty-nine per- 
cent of services are provided to women 
who are already mothers. While bodily 
integrity and the right to privacy are 
core to many legal debates (with the lat- 
ter being the basis of Roe v. Wade)—and 


PLAYBOY 155 


Legal access to 
abortion services 
umcousteciv benefits 
any man whose sexual 
partner wants ап 
abortion and затем 


receives One. 


while the decision to terminate a pregnancy must remain the 
right of women whose bodies are affected—behind nearly every 
abortion stands a man. That raises a question: Why is one of 
the greatest human rights battles of our generation a gendered 
issue? And why aren’t we as a society doing more to include men 
in the fight? 

For one, it may be because men’s experience with abortion is 
both understudied and underreported. Katie Watson, author 
of the 2018 Oxford University Press book Scarlet A: The Eth- 
ics, Law and Politics of Ordinary Abortion, coined the term 
abortion beneficiary to describe “people who didn’t terminate 
a pregnancy themselves but benefited from the fact someone 
else did.” As Watson explains, the web of abortion beneficia- 
ries is vast. It includes men who, given options, intentionally 
choose parenthood. It includes men who have enjoyed sex with- 
out worrying about contraceptive failure. It includes men who 
haven’t had to parent grandchildren when their son or daugh- 
ter couldn't. It includes men who have gone on to pursue degrees 
and professions, and who have earned income and built wealth, 
because of a decision made by a girlfriend, wife or sexual part- 
ner years before. 

Researchers at the University of Utah recently collected self- 
reported data from men who experienced a pregnancy with a 
partner while under the age of 20 and compared the outcomes 
of those who became fathers with those who were abortion ben- 
eficiaries. Their findings, published in the Journal of Adoles- 
cent Health in 2019, concluded that young men who avoided 


156 CIVIL LIBERTIES 


becoming teen fathers through abortion 
access had stronger educational futures. 
Twenty-two percent of men who were 
abortion beneficiaries went on to gradu- 
ate from college, compared with only six 
percent of teen fathers, for example. 

Of course, people should be able to have 
kids at the legal age—and be supported 
in doing so—notes the study's lead re- 
searcher, Bethany G. Everett. But our so- 
ciety and government don't do a good job 
of supporting new parents, teenaged or 
older. Neither do we do a good job of pro- 
moting maternal health and prevent- 
ing neonatal death. Georgia consistently 
ranks among the worst in maternal mor- 
tality rates, with half the counties in the 
state having no ob-gyns. States with the 
highest rates of infant mortality—Ohio, 
Alabama and Mississippi, to name a few— 
have passed some of the country's most 
restrictive abortion bans. Women who are 
denied access to abortion are four times 
more likely to have incomes below the fed- 
eral poverty level six months later. 

What does this have to do with men's 
abortion benefits? All the sons of mothers 


who were able to choose Ше timing of 
their pregnancies received benefits to 
their health and well-being from the mo- 
ment they were born, no matter the subse- 
quent circumstances of their childhood. 

This should not be misconstrued as jus- 
tification for men to coerce women into 
having abortions. Rather, the research 
highlights that "restricting access to 
abortion may have negative consequences 
for men whose partners desire abortion 
but are unable to access services," accord- 
ing to Everett and her team. Stated from 
a different angle, legal access to abortion 
services undoubtedly benefits any man 
whose sexual partner wants an abortion 
and safely receives one. 

Abortion has existed for thousands 
of years, but its ties to the societal con- 
trol of women's bodies is more recent. 
From the 1600s through the early 1800s, 
abortion was not criminalized in Amer- 
ica. This changed when male physicians 
began opposing abortions performed by 
nonphysicians, such as midwives, female 
healers and wise women who threatened 
male doctors' control over the medical in- 
dustry. The procedure became even more 
controversial when newspapers started 
advertising abortion preparations in the 
mid-1800s. Abortion then turned into 
a moral issue—not because of disagree- 
ment over when life begins but because a 
still-puritanical society worried women 
would take advantage of abortion ser- 
vices to cover up extramarital affairs. By 
the early 1900s almost all 50 states had 
passed anti-abortion laws. 

A century later, a stark gap between 
reality and the rhetoric of men who oppose 
abortion pervades the national debate 
over female reproductive health. Sixty- 
one percent of men say it should be legal 
in all or most cases, yet the most vocal 
anti-abortion legislators and  pro-life 
activists—those who are part of what Roll- 
ing Stone's Jamil Smith has termed “Ше 
forced-birth movement"—are also men. 

They include many Republican politi- 
cians who have gone to great lengths to 
eradicate abortion access while privately 
benefiting from it, such as Scott Lloyd, 
former head of the Office of Refugee Re- 
settlement. In 2004, as a law student, 
Lloyd wrote a paper comparing abortion 
to the Holocaust. According to Mother 
Jones, classmates recall this paper as 
"a manifesto," as if Lloyd were on a cru- 
sade. Since then, he has attempted to 
block a 17-year-old rape victim from ob- 
taining an abortion and promoted cri- 
sis pregnancy centers, which are merely 


fronts for anti-choice activism. But as Mother Jones reported in 
2018, a younger Lloyd once drove an ex-girlfriend to terminate a 
pregnancy for which he was responsible. 

Republican congressman Tim Murphy of Pennsylvania, who 
co-sponsored a 20-week abortion ban, resigned in 2017 after news 
broke that he allegedly had pressured his mistress to terminate a 
pregnancy. U.S. Representative Scott DesJarlais of Tennessee, a 
former physician, proudly claims a 100 percent pro-life voting re- 
cord yet has supported two abortions for his ex-wife and reportedly 
pressured a 24-year-old patient—his mistress—to terminate her 
pregnancy. November 2010 Playmate Shera Bechard sued Elliott 
Broidy, a former deputy finance chair of the Republican National 
Committee and one of California's top Republican Party fund- 
raisers, for allegedly failing to make good on a $1.6 million cover- 
up of their extramarital affair and, purportedly, an abortion. 

These gentlemen had, in their minds, legitimate reasons for 
aborting a pregnancy; think “for therapeutic reasons" or “be- 
cause the relationship wasn't going well." Their reasons may feel 
legitimate and deeply personal to them, but they are not unique. 
Such benefits are in fact among the reasons many people are 
staunchly pro-choice. 

Given that research proves men benefit from abortion access, 
it's reasonable to expect men's engagement and political solidar- 
ity with pro-choice policy making. This is all the more pressing 
with the U.S. Supreme Court's inevitable review of Roe v. Wade. 
(The reversal of Roe could mean that “теп go to college while 
women go to jail," Everett comments.) For the abortion-rights 
movement to result in true policy reform, and to maintain ongo- 
ing federal decriminalization, it must keep women at the center 
ofthe issue while also developing a broader focus on abortion as a 
non-gendered human rights issue. 

The good news is that some male-led efforts to support abor- 
tion rights are under way. The MenEngage Alliance, for example, 
has partnered with the Sexual Rights Initiative to advance global 
human rights related to sexuality through advocacy with the 
United Nations. Men for Women's Choice, a decentralized grass- 
roots network of male allies, encourages men around the world to 
support women's liberation efforts. The group explains, “АП hu- 
mans should have the right to autonomy and bodily integrity. For 
women and men, this often means the same thing, but for women 
it has an additional meaning: the ability to make choices regard- 
ing whether she will bear a child. We believe that no man should 
be able to force a woman to bear a child she does not want." 

While strong forces are at work to preserve male power and ad- 
vantage, anti-sexist men must continue to work against the tide 
and help cut through the myths and fallacies used to further 
women's political repression. Both forced abortion and denial 
of access are tools used by abusive men, according to research- 
ers from the Guttmacher Institute and the UC Davis School of 
Medicine, who found that among women with a history of inter- 
personal violence, 74 percent experienced various forms of male 
control to influence their pregnancy outcome. 

Galvanizing men in abortion rights politics makes sense. 
Women already carry the emotional and political labor around 
abortion rights, as well as the stigma for accessing the procedure. 
Women do the majority of heavy lifting to maintain access to re- 
productive options and sexual health care. But abortion is not a 
woman's issue. It is everyone's issue. 

Something else to consider, if we wanted to flip the script: 
Anti-abortion legislation is nothing more than a penalty for hav- 
ing sex for both genders. It's terrifying, yes, but it's a reality more 
men might want to think about. 


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Moizure City 


The hoards of fans who once blotted out the asphalt of the 
Marathon Clothing store's parking lot are gone. A chain-link 
fence now surrounds the strip mall that was ground zero for 
the empire of Nipsey Hussle, the 33-year-old Los Angeles rap- 
per who was murdered here on March 31, 2019. His death came 
only weeks after he and his business partners had purchased the 
building for $2.5 million. 
On the surface, the acquisition was 


The city of the latest in a series of shrewd busi- 

ness decisions by Hussle and his part- 

Los Angeles 15 петв, another jewel іп Ше crown for (һе 

| . һ Grammy-nominated тар star. But this 
cleaning nouse was about more than business. The deci- 
before the 2028 sion bought him time. For months, city 
attorney Mike Feuer had been trying to 

Olym pics. Who's evict the Marathon Clothing store from 


the strip mall, which cradles the south- 
west corner of Crenshaw Boulevard and 


cashing in, and 


who's bei ng swept Slauson Avenue in the heart of South Los 
Angeles. The city claimed Marathon, 
under the rug? the mall's anchor store, was a haven for 


members of the Crips gang. 
Hussle counted himself among the 


J. Brian Charles 


investigates Rollin’ 60s Crips, whose territory covers 

fi much of the Crenshaw neighborhood. As 

L.A.'s latest such, he and his associates never denied 
transformation the claim that members of the notorious 


L.A. street gang convened at Ше store and 

other adjacent businesses owned by the 

rapper. It was known that Hussle and his 
associates employed gang members in an effort to invest in both 
the neighborhood and its residents. These efforts won Hussle 
praise from celebrities including Jay-Z and Beyoncé and public 
officials such as Mayor Eric Garcetti and the Los Angeles Police 
Department's top ranks. 

“He was a tireless advocate for the young people of this city and 
of this world,” Garcetti said in a press conference following the 
rapper's murder, “to lift them up with the possibility of not being 
imprisoned by where you come from or past mistakes but the pos- 
sibility of what comes in the future." 

But in July 2019 The New York Times revealed the city had 
been investigating Hussle at the time of his murder. The shock- 
ing report speaks not only to contradictions in Hussle's life and 
death—he was allegedly killed by a man from the same gang— 


PLAYBOY 159 


160 


Designating 


certain areas as 


high-crime = 


still an indictment с" 
entire пей проглпооав. 


but also to (һе powerful Ғогсев (һай һауе shaped ала continue to 
shape the City of Angels. 

California's Interstate 10 once served as a barrier between 
the affluent and the working class, which is to say between 
white on one side and black and brown on the other. Today, with 
the median monthly rent for a one-bedroom apartment nearly 
$1,400, L.A.'s young white residents are fleeing neighborhoods 
like West Hollywood, Santa Monica and Westwood and dipping 
south of the 1-10, either in search of more-affordable housing ог 
drawn to the new developments hugging the Metro, the city's 
quickly expanding light-rail system. At the same time, the city 
attorney's office has flooded property owners in South L.A. with 
nuisance-abatement lawsuits. Ninety-eight were filed in Feuer's 
first four years on Ше job. 

The lawsuits are part ofthe Citywide Nuisance Abatement Pro- 
gram, which since 1997 has “revitalized” properties with alleged 
ties to criminal or gang activity. Leveraging the power of court 
injunctions, the program—enforced by the LAPD, the city attor- 
ney's office, the Department of Building and Safety, the Hous- 
ing Department and the Planning Department—can legally 
force property owners to abide by new rules ranging from hir- 
ing armed security personnel to installing security cameras that 
face common areas or even individual apartments. Tenants are 
also subjected to new rules, such as registering their IDs with 
building security or limiting time in common areas. Violation 
can lead to eviction. 

This is the method of policing the city was exploring in its at- 
tempt to evict the Marathon Clothing store from Crenshaw, a 
neighborhood that appears to be a hotbed of nuisance-abatement 
lawsuits due to the construction of the new Crenshaw/LAX light- 
rail line, which plays a central role in the Metro's expansion proj- 
ect. At eight and a half miles, the line will connect Los Angeles 
International Airport to the recently completed Exposition Line, 
which runs from downtown L.A. to Santa Monica beach. It's set 
to open in 2020. 

The Marathon store is only a few hundred feet from a planned 
Metro stop at the intersection of Crenshaw Boulevard and Slau- 
son Avenue. After decades of disinvestment, developers are now 
pouring billions of dollars into new hotels, luxury apartments 
and mixed-use developments. As builders hatch plans to reshape 


L.A., benefiting from an overcrowded city 
buckling in a housing crunch, the city's 
black and brown working-class residents 
find themselves in the crosshairs. 

"They're taking over Crenshaw," says 

Zerita Jones, co-founder of the branch of 
the Los Angeles Tenants Union that cov- 
ers Crenshaw and the adjacent neighbor- 
hoods of Baldwin Village and Leimert 
Park. “They are not coming in to share it 
with us. They are coming in to take it and 
move us out." 
If the smog that notoriously chokes the 
L.A. skyline isn't too thick, you can 
squint and see the Hollywood sign from 
Crenshaw. Just 12 miles separate the cor- 
ner of Crenshaw Boulevard and Slauson 
Avenue from the iconic sign, but for de- 
cades they were worlds apart. The sign 
to the north is the beacon of a city whose 
most noted exports are celebrity, film 
and television. South of its shadow, in 
Crenshaw—and to a larger extent South 
L.A.—sits what was once an industrial 
hub where black and Latinx laborers 
churned out cars, tires and tools for the 
nation's war machine. These worlds have 
collided as L.A.'s population swells. The 
city has added more than 1 million res- 
idents since 1980 and is now bursting 
with 4 million people. 

It wasn't long after Garcetti won his 
first mayoral election, in 2013, that he 
made his ambitions clear: to fix the city's 
transportation woes. He also wanted the 
Olympics to return to L.A. He tethered 
these goals and in 2016 convinced vot- 
ers to back a half-cent sales-tax hike to 
fund his transit plans. “We're using the 


Olympics as a rallying tool,” Garcetti told Government Technol- 
ogy magazine in 2018. “By the time the world comes here, let's 
be the best we can. Let's get rid of homelessness on our streets, 
let's build out the infrastructure that we need and acceler- 
ate that, and let's leave behind a legacy: that L.A. became the 
healthiest city in America when it hosted the greatest sporting 
event in the world.” 

Garcetti named his plan Twenty-Eight by '28, representing the 
28 transit projects that need to open before the Olympic torch 
is lit in summer 2028. Developers are tracing the blueprints. 
Where a shopping mall currently sits in South L.A., the city has 
approved a $700 million development that includes 961 apart- 
ments, a 400-room hotel and retail spaces. Across the street, a 
developer is looking to build 69 units. Another wants to build 111 
more apartments down the street. All these developments are ad- 
jacent to planned stops on the Crenshaw/LAX Line. АП of them 
will include affordable housing units—but not nearly enough to 
prevent displacement. 


From the window of Jones's apartment on Obama Boulevard, 
she can see change coming. She can see the Exposition Line 
as it chugs west toward Santa Monica's beaches; she sees the 
$3.25 million investment for a new gymnasium and indoor pool 
at the Rancho Cienega Sports Complex and developers snatching 
up mom-and-pop stores every week. She can also see the demo- 
graphics of her neighborhood changing. 

Jones lives in Baldwin Hills’ Chesapeake Apartments, where 
105 buildings are spread across 17 acres. The crosscurrents of 
change landed at Jones's doorstep in November 2017 when the 
city attorney's office filed a nuisance-abatement lawsuit against 
the Chesapeake, claiming the property posed a threat to the pub- 
lic health and safety of local residents. The ensuing court order set 
conditions for the owner; if the owner didn't comply, the city could 
ask the court to close down the property, ultimately forcing a sale. 

“Negligent, callous management has allowed the Chesapeake 
Apartments (о become a hotbed of terror in this neighborhood,” 
Feuer said in prepared remarks after filing the lawsuit. “We'll 

continue to hold property owners responsi- 
ble for these harrowing conditions as we take 
back our communities.” 

Specifically, the 2017 lawsuit alleged that 
the Black P-Stones, a division of the Bloods 
gang, and an open drug market flourish at 
the Chesapeake. Residents don't dispute 
this. For one, the complex features a road 
that connects two major thoroughfares in 
L.A., making it prime real estate for drug 
dealing and, by extension, violence. To make 
its case that the Chesapeake is a stronghold 
of the Black P-Stones, the city sourced evi- 
dence on YouTube. Court documents cite a 
music video filmed at the Chesapeake that 
features aspiring rappers and alleged gang 
members flashing hand signs. Another 
music video includes scenes from a memo- 
rial for a man killed by police in a neighbor- 
ing city; it shows purported Black P-Stones 
members brandishing handguns. 

The argument that the entire complex 
should be deemed a gang headquarters con- 
cerns legal scholars. “The gang allegation was 
the most racist of the allegations," says Shayla 
Myers, an attorney with Legal Aid Foundation 
of Los Angeles who helped Chesapeake ten- 
ants fight the lawsuit. "The videos are an ar- 
tistic expression of life in the community. To 
have that thrown back at them as evidence of 
gang activity is problematic." 

In its lawsuit, the city demanded the prop- 
erty owner install security camerastrained on 
residents' entryways, the footage of which the 
LAPD could review without a subpoena. The 
city also tried to establish new "house rules" 
for residents, demanded that armed security 
guards take up posts in the complex and sug- 
gested that the owner contract a management 
company to help oversee the property. The 
injunction filed by the city asked residents 
to police gang activity and told the property 
owner to distribute rental agreements that in- 
cluded the new rules. Guests could spend only 


PLAYBOY 161 


limited time іп common areas and were required to carry photo 
IDs, which had to be registered with management. If any of the 
house rules were violated, the property owner was expected to 
evict the residents. 

“We were the nuisances,” Jones says, “and we were the peo- 
ple who had to be governed and policed.” Jones and her mother, 
Jessie Smith-Jones, intervened to fight the injunction. They 
claimed the terms would turn the Chesapeake into a prison. The 
armed security guards would only add guns to a place already 
marked by violence. The security cameras criminalized all res- 
idents, including the innocent. Residents acknowledged the 
presence of gangs in the complex, but policing was the LAPD's 
responsibility, tenants argued, not theirs. 

The city walked back some of the conditions. Today, the security 
guards in the complex are unarmed and the cameras record only 
common areas. But residents are still being pushed out. As head of 
the Chesapeake's tenant association, Jones is often the first per- 
son those facing eviction call. Some fight; some don't. When they 
leave, the apartments are renovated and rented at market rate. 
Mike Feuer rode into the city attorney's office in the same 2013 
election that vaulted Garcetti, a former city councilman, to 
power. Feuer's office didn't respond to requests for comment for 
this story, but scrolling through its website, you get the impres- 
sion Feuer wants to align with a new era of progressive prose- 
cutors. His office champions alternatives to imprisonment for 
teens in street gangs, diversion programs for nonviolent offend- 
ers and pop-up legal clinics for the homeless. These programs 
are part of L.A.’s Community Justice Initiative, or CJI—a name 
that suggests a softer approach to crime. In language posted 


online, CJI is “a neighborhood-focused array of restorative 
justice, alternative sentencing and diversionary programs.” 
Nuisance-abatement lawsuits are categorized within CJI as 
“administrative citation enforcement.” 

In his first term, Feuer appeared to have borrowed heavily 
from two of his predecessors: James K. Hahn, who was city at- 
torney for 16 years before becoming L.A.’s 40th mayor in 2001, 
and Rocky Delgadillo, who succeeded Hahn as city attorney and 
served from 2001 to 2009. In 1989 Hahn laid out plans to use the 
city attorney's office to tackle L.A.’s gang problem. He wanted 
to implement the criminological theory known as “broken win- 
dows.” A social science term coined in 1982, it gained traction 
among law enforcement in the 1990s but has since been discred- 
ited. The idea is to snuff out minor infractions such as loitering 
and drinking on the sidewalk with the goal of not just round- 
ing up small-time offenders before they commit major crimes (a 
theoretical certainty) but signaling to the community that cops 
won't tolerate infractions of any kind. 

Where Hahn's tactics differed was his idea to use civil courts 
via nuisance lawsuits rather than criminal courts as a hammer 
against crime. The city would move for an injunction to bar al- 
leged gang members from congregating in areas covered by the 
injunction. This criminalized innocuous gatherings such as 
family cookouts should two alleged gang members be there. 

Those facing civil injunctions have no right to an attorney. 
Rather than proving cases beyond a reasonable doubt, city at- 
torneys have to prove only that the majority of evidence supports 
their claims. Once the injunction is in place, those who violate it 
may later face criminal charges. 

Delgadillo's pursuit of street crime differed in that his office 


targeted homes, businesses and properties. Those plans landed 
heavily on downtown L.A.'s homeless population. Meanwhile, 
cops got tougher on the streets. William Bratton, another sup- 
porter of broken-windows policing, became LAPD police chief 
in 2002. He launched the Safer Cities Initiative, which flooded 
downtown L.A. with an additional 50 cops on patrol. This was 
classic broken windows. Cops handed out 12,000 fines for small 
offenses in the first year; а 2011 survey by Ше Los Angeles Сот- 
munity Action Network found that more than half the people liv- 
ing in the Skid Row area had been arrested in the past year. 

Upon taking office, Feuer moved forward with an injunction 
his predecessor had filed against people with alleged gang ties in 
Echo Park, a gentrified Latinx neighborhood on L.A.'s east side. 
In June 2013 the city attorney's office filed a permanent injunc- 
tion against known members of six gangs. But the effort faced 
blowback from activists and civil rights attorneys. Chief U.S. 
District Judge Virginia A. Phillips ruled in 2018 that Ше injunc- 
tion violated the due process rights of thousands and compelled 
the city to toss the remaining 1,400 names off the injunction list. 
(According to the Los Angeles Times, almost 9,000 people had 
faced injunction enforcement since 2000.) 

By that time, Feuer's strategy had shifted from targeting al- 
leged gang members to targeting property associated with gang 
activity. "When we even think about the Citywide Nuisance 
Abatement Program, it's a lawsuit against the property," says 
Jamie Garcia, an organizer with the Stop LAPD Spying Coali- 
tion. “That's how the city takes its hands off, i.e., "We are not 
targeting people.’ When you hear LAPD’s rhetoric, they go after 
location-based policing." It's a distinction without a difference, 
Garcia argues. Targeting land, designating certain areas as high- 
crime and filing property nuisance suits are still indictments of 
entire neighborhoods. 

The city's practices are buttressed by state law. Shortly after 
Feuer took office, Governor Jerry Brown signed two laws that ex- 
panded the power of cities to evict tenants for certain nuisance 
violations, including one that allows a city to evict a tenant based 
on an arrest report, even if the person wasn't convicted. The leg- 
islation was backed by the California Apartment Association. 

When you couple Feuer's use of civil actions with LAPD's po- 
licing tactics, the city has powerful tools to remove people from 
within its borders. Until April 2019 one such tool was the Los An- 
geles Strategic Extraction and Restoration program, or LASER, 
which the LAPD phased out after eight years. LASER focused on 
identifying and monitoring chronic offenders. To get off the list, 
a person had to avoid police contact, which is difficult because 
LASER increases policing in so-called anchor points—locations 
where several people on the list live, work or socialize. It's the 
same type of regulation used against the Chesapeake. "It became 
very clear it was about land and displacement," Garcia says. 

Garcia's colleague, Hamid Khan, founder of Stop LAPD Spying 
Coalition, elaborates: “Such practices are a continuation of pol- 
icy over time," he says. "Broken windows may be discredited, but 
it serves as a template for what's happening now." 

Fragments of broken windows pop up in other cities too. The 
Department of Justice found that Ferguson, Missouri, where a 
cop killed teenager Michael Brown in 2014, collected more than 
$2.4 million in fines in 2013, largely tied to minor infractions 
such as parking and housing-code violations. The city issued more 
than 9,000 arrest warrants for unresolved fines in 2013 alone. 

Former South Bend mayor and presidential hopeful Pete 
Buttigieg, an alumnus of consulting firm McKinsey & Company, 
has been criticized for his 1,000 Houses in 1,000 Days program, 


which forced the rehab or demolition 
of more than 1,000 homes in the city. 
The city dispatched code-enforcement 
officers, and the amount of fines jumped 
25 percent, with more than $500,000 col- 
lected in a single year. 

The program hit black and Latinx res- 
idents hard. Many came to own their 
homes through inheritance or investing 
in low-income neighborhoods. Some had 
been trapped in zombie mortgages. When 
the city assessed fines, some residents 
walked away. 

South Bend, where about 45 percent of 
residents are in minority groups, has one 
of the highest eviction rates in the coun- 
try. The city has yet to study the impact 
of the program on black, Latinx or low- 
income communities, but Buttigieg, in 
his political memoir, Shortest Way Home: 
One Mayor's Challenge and a Model for 
America's Future, writes that “Ше most 
important impact of the effort was un- 
quantifiable. Hitting such an ambitious 
goal made it easier for residents to believe 
we could do very difficult things as a city, 
at a time when civic confidence had been 
in short supply for decades." 

Hussle's voice booms from cars stopped 
at Crenshaw and Slauson. His face is on 
T-shirts worn by the men and boys walk- 
ing the streets. On another corner, his 
face stares at traffic from a mural on the 
wall of a bank. In the global rap world, 
Kendrick Lamar may be king of L.A., but 
even in death, Hussle rules over Crenshaw. 

The Marathon store was the face card 
in a broader business plan, which now in- 
cludes a co-working space, a business in- 
cubator and a STEM lab. “If [South L.A.] 
is to ever be in the condition it deserves— 
if our people are to ever be treated the 
way they deserve to be treated—we have 
to own and build it for ourselves," said 
Marqueece Harris-Dawson, who repre- 
sents Crenshaw on the Los Angeles City 
Council, after Hussle's death. 

Hussle's business partner, David Gross, 
declined to be interviewed for this story, 
but he has publicized his fight against the 
city on social media. His plans forthe Mar- 
athon Clothing store location: a mixed-use 
project called Nipsey Hussle Tower. This 
permanent memorial will serve as both a 
tribute to the neighborhood and a send-up 
of outside forces vying for control. Those 
forces may prevail, Jones says, “but the 
question is, are we going to allow it to hap- 
pen, or are we going to fight?" 

As Hussle would say, "The marathon 
continues." E 


PLAYBOY 163 


\ 
sterling for all 


PHOTOGRAPHY BY AARON FEAVER 


PLAYBOY 165 


166 STYLE 


Тһе trajectory of 
Sterling K. Brown 
has us on the 
edge of our seat, 
which is right 
where he wants us 


ey ANITA LITTLE 


The first time I meet Sterling K. Brown the smoke is liter- 
ally clearing around him. Yes, a crew member has just turned 
off a hazer as production pauses for Brown to swap into an- 
other look, but the metaphor is undeniable. The actor, de- 
spite almost two decades of well-regarded work on television, 
has only recently become a household name, thanks to his 
Emmy-winning performance across four seasons of NBC's 
This Is Us. Unlike Randall Pearson— 
the straitlaced, civically engaged and 
mathematician-smart patriarch he 
plays on the show—Brown has nat- 
ural swag and commands the room 
with a rich, resonant voice trained at 
Stanford and in regional theater na- 
tionwide. Decked out in a visual trib- 
ute to casual cool —rolled-up trousers, 
a gold medallion and a half-buttoned 
graphic-print shirt—he asks, “Сап 
we get some more Drizzy?” He shifts 
from posing to dancing as Drake's 
“Controlla” fills the studio. 

When І ask Brown how success and 
pop-culture notoriety have changed 
him, he responds quickly. 

“Ги a total dick now,” he tells me. “Т have narrowed my 
peripheral vision.” 

Some might say this means he's more goal-oriented. Others 
might add that it feels like a moment of profound clarity. 

In 2018 Brown launched Indian Meadows Productions, which 
gave him the power not just to change the narrative but to cre- 
ate it. The production company's namesake is the St. Louis 
neighborhood where Brown grew up. His mom still owns a house 
there, and his brothers and sisters are among the city's resi- 
dents. The mission of Indian Meadows Productions is to cham- 
pion racial inclusion in Hollywood, both in front of the cameras 
and behind them. Brown has already closed a deal with Hulu for 
his company to produce an adaptation of Esi Edugyan's best- 
selling book Washington Black. 

“Т wanted to have some sort of control over what stories could 
be put out to the world and take advantage of an opportunity to 
be one of the storytellers,” Brown says. “If you don't have enough 
bells and whistles in terms of the right writers, the right show- 
runners, the right directors, the best piece of material can fall 
on deaf ears." 

By owning the means of production, so to speak, Brown 
will also be able to reshape one of the most formidable bar- 
riers for black-led media: marketing. Oftentimes, films and 


TV programs featuring predominantly 
black casts are promoted only to black 
audiences, which can drastically re- 
duce a project's impact. (The packaging 
of works by Tyler Perry, who made his- 
tory in October as the first black person 
to independently own a studio lot, comes 
to mind.) Recent films such as Jordan 
Peele's Us and Ryan Coogler's Black 
Panther—in which Brown plays father to 
Michael B. Jordan's Killmonger—have 
benefited from crossover appeal, both 
critically and at the box office, but they 
remain the exception. Nevertheless, the 
tide is shifting. The 2019 study “Inclu- 
sion in the Director's Chair," by the USC 
Annenberg Inclusion Initiative, features 
an "intersectional analysis" of 1,335 di- 
rectors attached to top-grossing films 
between 2007 and 2018. The study deter- 
mined that “16 of the directors of the top 
100 movies [in 2018] were black—this 
historically high figure is nearly three 
times greater than the six black directors 
working in 2017 and twice as many as the 
eight black directors working in 2007." 

Says Brown, “If you have a black movie, 
we need to stop selling it as if it's only for 
a black audience. A movie about black 
people can appeal to anyone. All human 
stories have a universal appeal when 
told well." One practice he has come up 
against in Hollywood is the casting of 
leading men of color opposite non-black 
actresses in an attempt to end-run the 
marketing of a film as a “black movie." 
Saying he "frowns upon" black actors 
who have typically worked opposite white 
or Latina leading ladies, Brown is careful 
when choosing projects. 

“Will Smith has the strength to pair 
himself with whomever he wants and 
sell that movie globally," he says. “Не 
can provide an opportunity to a sister to 
shine in a way they may not be able to if it 
weren't a Will Smith movie." 

When projects with black casts reach 


өө 


A movie about black people can 
appeal to anyone. All human 
stories nave a universal appeal 
wien told well." 


a broader audience, that of course results in more big breaks 
for black actors, directors and writers. Brown's success is 
proof: His command on the mainstream This Is Us and the 
Ryan Murphy-produced American Crime Story, both of which 
feature relatively diverse casts, led to a lot of televised accep- 
tance speeches. In addition to his two Emmy wins, he is the 
first African American to win a Golden Globe for best actor on 
a television drama and the first African American male actor 
to win a Screen Actors Guild Award for a drama series. Outside 
of This Is Us and Indian Meadows, Brown added A24's Novem- 
ber release Waves to his film résumé, nabbed a part in Disney's 
colossal Frozen sequel and will appear on the next season of 
Amazon Prime's flagship comedy The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel. 

I ask Brown if, as a leader in an industry that suffers from a 
scarcity of opportunities for actors of color, he feels pressure to 
embody the punishing standard of #BlackExcellence. He tents 
his fingers, leans back and ventures a joke. ^We got to keep it 
together, because they got Mekhi Phifer or Omar Epps on call, 
waiting to come in and replace your boy,” he says. “You spend 
so long feeling replaceable that it's hard to shake that feeling." 

His television fame is concurrent with something else, some- 
thing he's learned to be unabashed about but never expected: 
his emergence as a sex symbol. Randall Pearson wasn't scripted 
to be sexy, but thirst isn't predictable. On Google “Sterling К. 
Brown shirtless" returns more than 1 million results. Some of 
the most over-the-top headlines include STERLING K. BROWN'S 
SEXY ABS SHATTER INSTAGRAM and GIVE THE PEOPLE STERLING 
K. BROWN'S BOOTY! 

"Sneaky fit" is the term Brown uses to describe his physique. 
"I'm not popping out of my clothes per se, but if I ever take my 
shirt off, you'd be like, Oh snap, I didn't see that one coming." 
He quickly adds, “I don't think I’ve ever gotten a job because of 
the way I was built. People have seen me as being a good actor, 
and they hire me for things in which they need a good actor." 

The hypersexuality assigned to black men has some grisly his- 
torical underpinnings that are glazed over in horny internet 
chatter—"It's a slippery slope, and it’s one that is dangerous,” he 
says—but Brown recognizes that "it's nice to have your sexuality 
celebrated, as long as you're being celebrated in total, as a whole 
human being and not fetishized as one particular thing." 

In other words, “sex symbol" is not a terrible title when it's 
your least impressive achievement. After years of laying the 
groundwork, Brown seems to have found the freedom to tran- 
scend being one thing and to embrace many personas: the total 
dick, the leading man, the producer, the trailblazer, even the 
sex symbol. No wonder audiences are mesmerized. 


170 STYLE 


АМОЫР 


4 


5 
Ë 


RUSH 


PHOTOGRAPHY BY 


ALI MITTON 


МАКСН РЕАУМАТЕ 


PLAYBOY 1/3 


The Journey from Laos to the United 


States 18 not so 


far with March 


Playmate and lifelone explorer Anita 
Pathammavong as your guide 


Marigolds fill the pool, and I breathe in the verdant aroma as 
the florists trim their stems. In front of the lens I can move, 
flow and express myself completely. 

І am naked; all around me, the energy is strong. 

The confidence I feel today is the result of an ever-evolving 
journey of exploration and self-acceptance. Coming from a 
multicultural background—I was six years old when my fam- 
ily moved from Laos to the Virginia suburbs—I've always had 
a kaleidoscopic view of beauty standards, societal expectations 
and my own identity. 

My dad first relocated to northern Virginia during the Viet- 
nam war, and my mother went to an all-girls Catholic school 
in Thailand before she moved to Washington, D.C. at 17. I was 
raised with pretty traditional views surrounding femininity 
and sexuality. 

The American school system wasn't much help, and my ге- 
lationship to my body was mostly informed by what I saw on 
television. It took years of curiosity and community building 
to get to a place where І felt grounded and comfortable in my 
own skin. Even now, at the age of 23, I'm still learning new 
things about my body! 

After high school I went to New York and immediately fell 


174 


іп love и the rhythm and intensity of the city. But when I 
started modeling, I had to compete in an industry that pri- 
oritized skinny bodies and European features. I've struggled 
against those biases for most of my career. 

It's definitely shifted—but I don't want companies to be in- 
clusive merely because it's a trend. I want people to lean into 
these conversations even though they can be uncomfortable; 
that's how perspectives change. People should be able to open 
up magazines and see models of all shapes, sizes and races. 
They should be able to see images of women they can relate to. 

I believe that empathy is the first step toward equality. We 
simply cannot let discrimination be indulged and privilege 
weaponized to divide people. We need to take the time to listen 
and educate instead of coming from a place of pain and anger. 

That's why one of my dreams is to invest in land in Laos. 
My father and I have a plan to open an orphanage and recruit 
teachers, because the educational system stops around middle 
school. And I want to start a nonprofit that will raise money to 
remove the leftover land mines still planted along the border 
of Laos and Vietnam. 

I am a model with curves, a woman with Southeast Asian, 
Native American and European roots. I'm just proud to be me. 


===: (27 
: т خر‎ \ 


y M / 
eMe 


Хал e 
xz 11), 

^ CK 
hs ie 
с 24 


DATA SHEET 


BIRTHPLACE: Nong Khai, Thailand CURRENT CITY: New York City, New York 


ON PARENT TRAPS 


My parents separated when we moved 
to the States, and my mother raised 
me, my older sister and my younger 
brother as a single mom. When | was 
in high school my parents actually got 
back together. It was a real Parent Trap 
situation (sans twin-swapping), and 
they've been together ever since. 


ON DESTINY 


| was working with my dear friend 
Patricia Meier-Veit, who showed me 
her May 1993 Playmate pictorial in 
PLAYBOY Germany. | decided then, "I'm 
going to do ptaysoy.” A few months 
later | was talking to my friend Fo 
Porter, the April 2019 Playmate, and 
she asked me how | would feel about 
posing for PLAYBOY. | told her, “I fucking 
love PLAvBov! It would be a dream.” Next 
thing 1 know, | have an interview with 
the casting director, and two weeks 
later I'm locked in. | honestly feel like 
| spoke it into existence. 


ON STAYING ALOFT 


| recently heard a bit of good advice: 
You cant fly like an eagle if you hang 
around with turkeys. 


ON STAYING GROUNDED 


In New York you're constantly absorb- 
ing different people's energies. It can 
become too intense if you dont re- 
move yourself from it. | like meditating, 
dancing around my room and going 
upstate to get out of the city. 


ON GUILTY PLEASURES 


Cheesy romantic movies. The Sex and 
the City movie, Pretty Woman, How to 
Lose a Guy in 10 Days—l love them all. 
Eat Pray Love is fucking great. 


ON SPRINGING FORWARD 


Spring is one of my favorite seasons 
because it's when things become new. 
Flowers bloom, the weather starts 


warming up.... It's a transformative time 
when you can finally step out of your 
cocoon. Spread those wings! 


ON PET PEEVES 


People who litter. | usually give them 
a really dirty look and pick up what- 
ever they've thrown on the ground. It's 
somewhere between passive aggres- 
sive and fully aggressive. 


ON GIVING BACK 


The issues | raise awareness for are 
protecting indigenous people and their 
land, preserving the Amazon, fighting 
for racial justice and womens rights, 
and helping the environment. | look 
up to strong women who advocate for 
these causes—including Channapha 
Khamvongsa, the founder and execu- 
tive director of Legacies of War, an 
organization that seeks to address the 
problem of unexploded ordnance in my 
home country of Laos. 


PLAYBOY 18/ 


31VWAV'Id 0207 ночуи 


at 


v» 4 


Ж PLAYBOY'S 


THIS ISSUE'S BATCH 
COURTESY OF 


party 


SOMETIMES т feel like 


we're really making 


188 


COMEDIAN AND 
TELEVISION WRITER 
DEMI ADEJUYIGBE 
AND FRIENDS 


progress toward equal- 
ity. Then I remem- 
ber there are dogs on 
Instagram that make 
more money than most 
black  people.—Edgar 
Momplaisir 


TWO women walk into 

a bar. One of them sits 

down and immediately 
apologizes to the other: 

"Were you going to sit here?" 

“Мо, I'm sorry, no!" says the other. “1 want 
to stand." 

The first apologizes for being in her way. 
The second apologizes for being so flustered. 
This continues into infinity or until one of 
them gets elected president in 2044.—Tawny 
Newsome 


THERE'S no better sign that we need equal 
representation. than my getting called 
Kumar in YouTube comments. Guys, that 
movie came out in 2004. If you're going to be 
racist, at least be topical.—Rekha Shankar 


| didn't want to believe gentrification could 
happen to me, but the guy next door screams 
our neighborhood's walkability score every 
time he orgasms.— Brittani Nichols 


jokes 


А standout float in the Straight Pride Parade is the one with a bunch 
of guys lounging around, each one forcing his girlfriend to watch 
Bloodsport while she texts another dude.—7: N. 


WHEN black people talk about supporting black-led films, someone 
always complains, “Оһ, but it would be racist if I went and supported 
white-led films!” That wouldn't be racist, just expensive and time- 
consuming.—Demi Adejuyigbe 


| didn't have a pen, so I signed a check with eyeliner from the bottom 
of my bag. That's 11th-wave radical feminism.—Ayo Ейебіті 


THE worst thing you can call a black person is the N word, but the 
worst thing you can call a 

white person is "cracker," 

which is a delicious salty 

treat you serve with a vari- ЖЕ 

ety of cheeses at parties. I 
think that says all you need 
to know about equality in 
this country.—B.N. 


| wish I had the confidence 
of a ginger telling me, ^We 
too have faced oppression 
for our appearance.”—R.S. 


THE school-to-prison pipe- 
line is so bad that when The 
Shawshank Redemption’s 
Andy Dufresne escaped, 
he ended up back in the 
eighth grade.—Carl Tart 


IT'S not fair when someone says white people have always had it easy. 
Imagine how tough it was for them to talk about music the year that 
“Niggas in Paris” was big.—D.A. 


IF a woman accepts a promotion, she is legally required to renounce 
the formal job title and instead be called a badass.—R.S. 


WHICH is worse, being African American in Hollywood and getting 
mistaken for someone in Black Panther or getting no calls even to do 
background work in Black Panther?—D.A. 


HOW do you know when a relationship is serious? When the woman 
takes you home to meet her vibrator.—A.E. 


MEN should have as much control over women's bodies as desire to 
see the Cats movie: none.— Lou Wilson 


THE PLAYBOY 


SYM 


POS 
11: 


Is Hollywood keeping ир with Ше changing тогев of 
contemporary sexuality? In a time of simultaneous 
sex positivity and panic, we wanted to investigate 

how moviemakers are handling our country's sexual 
reawakening—especially when it comes to female 
sexuality on the big screen. So we tapped Franklin 

Leonard—founder of the Black List, Hollywood's 
heralded community of screenwriters and script 
buyers—for some help. What follows is a titillating 
survey of sex, cinema and the female gaze by the 
Black List's director of community, Kate Hagen. 
Accompanying Hagen's words: three never-before- 
published illustrations by artists exploring the act of 
sex, hand-selected by digital gallerist Love Watts. 


мокоѕ ви KATE HAGEN arr curareo sy LOVE WATTS 


PLAYBOY 139 


Нои were you first seduced Бу cinema? 

My relationship with film began long before I could name Ше 
mesmeric desire I felt every time I turned myself over to 100 
minutes of flickering passion on the screen. It wasn't until ado- 
lescence, when I started to actively seek out any movie on cable 
with a STRONG SEXUAL CONTENT warning, that my nascent af- 
fection for film blossomed into an eternal obsession. And once 
I was finally left alone to watch what І wanted, I became а 
cinematic-sex sleuth. 

I sought movies such as Looking for Mr. Goodbar, Bound, 
Wild at Heart, The Last Seduction and Crash (David Cronen- 
berg's version, of course) solely for the sex. І became entranced 
not only with thrillingly new perspectives on romance, rela- 
tionships and intimacy but with the complex emotional narra- 
tives around them. I became addicted to the nervous fluttering 
in my belly when the camera pushed in on two faces I loved, 
their bodies clutched in electrified anticipation before a cli- 
mactic fuck. I perfected the art of searching TV Guide listings 
by actor to find the finest filth the Encore Romance channel 
could offer on a Saturday afternoon. (Remember Damage with 
Jeremy Irons and Juliette Binoche?) I spent hours of trigonom- 
etry class daydreaming about whichever actor beguiled me at 
the moment. That complete list is unfit to print in any medium, 
but I will admit I was hot for Alan Ruck long before Succession. 

Even now, nothing thrills me more than a great sex scene. The 
problem is, the steamiest sex I've seen in years, outside of porn, 
occurred in the sixth episode of HBO's Euphoria—not in a the- 
ater. With its tender, trembling Halloween tryst between the 
characters played by Barbie Ferreira and Austin Abrams, Eu- 
phoria gave me something I'd never seen before, even as a slut 
for cinematic smut: a fat woman receiving oral pleasure to the 
point of climax without it being a punch line or a punishment 
for her or her paramour. While I was thrilled to be consumed 
by a scene starring someone who looks like me, it reminded me 
how long it had been since I'd seen a film that made me feel even 
remotely the same way. 

A spectacular sex scene appeals to our lusting lizard brains, 
but everything that unfolds around the fucking is what invites 
audience members to invest and empathize with the charac- 
ters: the tight clasp of Linda Hamilton's and Michael Biehn's 
hands during their pivotal coupling in The Terminator, or the 
sobering POV shots as Jennifer Jason Leigh bids adieu to her 
virginity in Fast Times at Ridgemont High. Through sex, we're 
able to gaze at our most beloved stars during moments of excep- 
tional vulnerability, allowing deeper emotional connections— 
ones that can validate our own desires. 

My love for on-screen erotica made me open to a variety of 
sexual perspectives long before I could experience them in re- 
ality. Even so, it took me three decades to feel represented sexu- 
ally in film. If the most ubiquitous form of storytelling doesn't 
feature people to whom we can relate in their enjoyment of car- 
nal satisfaction, how could we ever feel worthy of such a thing in 
real life? How could we believe we should ask for it? 

I've been troubled by the state of sex in movies for the past 
few years. My fears are confirmed by data from IMDb: Only 
1.21 percent of the 148,012 feature-length films released since 


Opposite page: Senju, 
Seijo (Holy Woman), 
2019. Digital painting. 


190 SYMPOSIUM 


2010 contain depictions of sex. That percentage is the lowest 
since the 1960s. Sex in cinema peaked in the 1990s, the hey- 
day of the erotic thriller, with 1.79 percent of all films featur- 
ing sex scenes. That half-point decline is massive in relative 
terms, considering almost four times as many films have been 
released іп the 2010$ as in the 1990s. 

Studio releases simply aren't keeping up with the conver- 
sations about sex, gender and relationships that have been 
amplified by Generation Z's progressive attitudes and a 
#MeToo-driven cultural reckoning. Mainstream film surely 
isn't representative of the kinds of love and sex I experience in 
my life as a bisexual woman. We've only begun to flirt with re- 
spectful depictions of queer sex, kink and sex work on-screen, 
but those stories often live and die in the art houses. Countless 
nuanced perspectives remain unexplored by studios. 

As I investigated the state of sex in cinema, I became frus- 
trated with the attempts to assign blame for the slump. Scape- 
goats include the rise of streaming tube sites and smartphone 
dependence. But like the complexities of human attraction, 
the factors that led to the decline of sex in movies are inter- 
twined with our own media history—both as individual view- 
ers and as a collective audience that isn't getting laid as often 
as we did 20 years ago. 

According to a November 2017 article in Archives of Sexual 
Behavior, American adults had sex about nine fewer times per 
year in the early 2010s than adults in the late 1990s. A 2016 
LinkedIn study determined that entertainment is the top in- 
dustry for young workers, which suggests we may be seeing less 
sex at the movies because Hollywood is full of undersexed mil- 
lennials. (And why not blame another cultural catastrophe on 
millennials?) But that theory falls apart when you consider that 
the six major studios are run by baby boomers and Gen-Xers— 
who reportedly have more sex than the younger cohort. If indus- 
try gatekeepers are so sexually active, shouldn't there be more 
sex on release slates? 

Consider the most successful erotic thriller ever made: Adrian 
Lyne's Fatal Attraction, which grossed more than $155 mil- 
lion domestically and was nominated for six Academy Awards, 
including best picture, in 1987. With its chaotic sex, Oscar- 
nominated performance from Glenn Close (“1 won't be ignored, 
Dan" still haunts me) and controversial climax, Fatal Attraction 
gained the kind of cultural ubiquity now reserved for franchises 
and IP-driven tentpoles, not middle-budget adult dramas. 

To further contextualize Fatal Attraction's success, its ad- 
justed domestic box office is nearly $360 million. If released 
in 2019, it would be the year's sixth-highest-grossing domestic 
release, behind four Disney films and one Sony/Marvel/Disney 
crossover. There's simply no way a movie like Fatal Attraction, 
with its languorous erotic intrigue and troubling morality, 
could compete with a Marvel giant in our current landscape, 
nor gain the same awards heat. 

Beyond stories with explicit eroticism, five of the 100 all-time 
highest domestic grossers—Avatar, Titanic, Deadpool, Forrest 


dibus mnm 


Joyce Lee, Tiebreak, 2019. 


Watercolor and colored 


pencil on Kraft paper. 


192 SYMPOSIUM 


Gump, Skyfall and Twilight: Breaking Dawn-Part 2—feature 
depictions of sex. At five percent, this list over-indexes when 
compared with the percentage of sex scenes in all movies, but 
with alien sex, superhero sex and vampire sex, these movies 
are not representative of anyone's sexual experiences (I imag- 
ine). What's more, not a single female director is responsible 
for these titles. 

The exceptions to the major studios’ sex strike are the adap- 
tations of Fifty Shades of Grey, EL James's problematic fantasy 
about the luxury of heteronormative submission. The first Fifty 
Shades film—and the only one lensed by a woman, Sam Taylor- 
Johnson—grossed more than 10 times its $40 million budget. 
In total, all three films in the franchise made more than $1.3 
billion worldwide, without showing a single penis. 

Given the paucity of narratives about sexual fantasies cen- 
(егей on female desire, І can appreciate how the series pushed 
the envelope. But can the chemistry between Dakota Johnson 
and Jamie Dornan begin to compare with the incendiary attrac- 
tion between Close and Michael 
Douglas? Pushing even further, 
the last notable theatrical re- 
lease to receive ап ХС-17 rating 
was 2013's Blue Is the Warm- 
est Color. Scenes of graphic un- 
simulated sex, such as those in 
Anatomy of Hell and Nympho- 
maniac, remain the territory of 
auteurs and international film- 
makers who can leverage criti- 
cal clout to get into festivals. 
Such releases sometimes make 
it to streaming platforms (for 
example, Gaspar Noé's Love, 
now on Netflix), but they aren't 
the cinephilic fodder they were 
just a decade ago. 

As streaming platforms con- 
tinue to dominate, new possi- 
bilities for adult content are 
emerging. Amazon's Jennifer 
Salke has partnered with Nicole 
Kidman to create a new house 
brand of "sexy date night" mov- 
ies for Prime members. We have to consider that one of most 
plausible explanations for the cinematic-sex decline is the in- 
crease in sex on television. Should you ask your friends about 
their favorite recent depictions of sex, I imagine most will ref- 
erence the small screen. Sex has made shows such as Vida, 
Outlander, Euphoria and Pose must-see television. The dis- 
course around TV's steamiest moments—from bold thirst 
tweets to erotic GIFs—feels more pervasive than any cultural 
conversation about sex in film. 

If we're living in the era of peak TV, shouldn't that suggest 
peak TV sex? Despite the earlier examples, not quite. Since 
2000, sex scenes on television have tripled—to 0.06 percent. 
From 2010 to 2019, the percentage of movies with sex scenes 
was 20 times that of TV shows, at a time when television pro- 
duction outpaced film production by a ratio of about 13 to one. 
If we look back to the 1990s, the so-called peak decade for movie 
sex, data show that sex in film outpaced sex on TV by a stagger- 
ing rate of about 60 to one. 

While there may be more sex on TV today compared with 


To deny 
the essential 
role of sex 
In cinema is 
to deny a 
core truth. 


2000, the halcyon days of XXX late-night programming have 
come to an end. In 2018, HBO pulled Cathouse, Real Sex and 
other adult programming from its broadcast and streaming 
services. This summer, the world lost erotic pioneer Patricia 
Louisianna Knop, who, along with her life and business part- 
ner, Zalman King, produced a carousel of pay-cable carnal- 
ity throughout the 1980s and 1990s. Together they created the 
lushest sexual-fantasy films to hit the mainstream, including 
9% Weeks, Two Moon Junction and Wild Orchid, plus Red Shoe 
Diaries, which premiered on Showtime in 1992. 

Red Shoe Diaries focused on the complexities of desire in a 
patriarchal, post-AIDS world. Bounty hunters, architects and 
doctors narrated their own stories of “love, passion, and be- 
trayal” in letters sent to Red Shoes (played by David Ducho- 
vny), a wounded lothario who gets his kicks from their lurid 
tales. To kids of the 1990s, Red Shoe Diaries evokes sexy, 
synthwave role-play scenarios sponsored by Spencer's Gifts. 
But I would argue it had more progressive, thoughtful explora- 
tions of passion in its first sea- 
son than in any premium-cable 
series since. It wasn't surpris- 
ing, then, when I learned Ше 
show was produced in part by 
women, as was Real Sex. In the 
quarter-century since Knop 
and King's series debuted, we 
haven't come far in our de- 
pictions of non-heterosexual, 
non-vanilla sex іп popular 
entertainment—or, more spe- 
cifically, popular entertain- 
ment that isn't pornography. 

I will admit cinematic sex 
satisfied my voyeurism only 
until I discovered the work of 
adult maven Joanna Angel, a 
former sex-advice columnist 
for Spin. Angel's brand of alt- 
porn features goth babes of 
all sizes along with approach- 
able hunks such as Tommy Pis- 
tol. Through her Burning Angel 
banner, I realized that porn 
could be much more than vapid nymphets and hung studs, es- 
pecially with a woman in the director's chair. Porn has always 
occupied a different part of my imagination than movie sex; the 
adult industry has its own celebrities, awards circuit and cine- 
matic language that is both reflective of and totally unlike Hol- 
lywood. Equating the two industries undermines the talented 
performers in both worlds. 

Hollywood's influence, and its current failure to present di- 
verse perspectives on pleasure, is apparent on Adult Time, a 
paid subscription streaming service that bills itself as the Net- 
flix of porn. Featuring more than 100 curated channels and 
50,000 videos, Adult Time is the brainchild of Bree Mills, a 
queer female pornographer whose work includes everything 
from a lesbian-themed Miami Vice homage to a trans reimagin- 
ing of Thelma 62 Louise to a kinky parody of the musical Annie. 

Signing up for a trial of Adult Time this spring was the most 
revelatory experience I've had with porn since discovering 
Burning Angel. There, I watched real bodies—bodies with 
acne, cellulite and stretch marks; bodies historically valued 


as less than desirable іп mainstream storytelling of all kinds; 
bodies denied on-screen pleasure in Hollywood as well as adult 
films—experiencing real bliss. Scouring Adult Time's library, 
which includes thousands of scenes from porn's golden age, 
it's apparent there are more inclusive, feminine gazes in adult 
content than ever before. You just have to be willing to look 
beyond Pornhub. 

More than half the nominees for best director at the 2019 
XBIZ Awards were women, which represents far more gen- 
der diversity than any directing category during major awards 
season. Since the 1990s peak of cinematic sex, porn made for, 
by and about women (and trans, nonbinary and other gender- 
nonconforming folks) has unquestionably improved and di- 
versified. This was long overdue, and I wouldn't trade porn's 
progress for better Hollywood-produced erotica, but main- 
stream filmmakers could learn how to frame, block and light 
cinematic sex scenes from Adult Time. 

Depending on whom you ask, valuations of the global adult 
industry range from $5 billion to $97 billion. Pornhub reported 
33.5 billion global visits in 2018; if we compare this to 2018's 
global box office returns of $41.7 billion (assuming the aver- 
age movie ticket costs $10), we can estimate that about 4 billion 
movie tickets were sold in the same time frame. Adult indus- 
try aggregator MindGeek (which owns Pornhub, Redtube and 
YouPorn, among other sites) is currently mining millions of 
data points from users to craft new content by algorithm, just 
as Netflix did with Maniac and Black Mirror: Bandersnatch. 
Whether this optimized adult content resonates with viewers 
is yet to be seen, but for me, returning to the Wild West of free 
pornography after my Adult Time trial felt like eating Vienna 
sausage after two weeks of bingeing Wagyu beef. 

Innovations in the adult industry have also created new tech- 
nological concerns for any performer who appears nude or sim- 
ulates sex. A Pandora's box of deepfake videos and other nascent 
forms of digital manipulation popped open around 2017 and im- 
mediately became popular as a way to reimagine adult content. 
On Pornhub, a search for “deepfakes” yields no results, but on 
Redtube and YouPorn, a dozen videos, each buried deep within 
the uncanny valley, surface. They became harder to watch with 
each frame, but one clip in particular, starring a superheroine, 
shook me to my core. If I didn't know better, it would be difficult 
to believe it was fake. 

For now, the celebrity deepfake market seems focused on ex- 
ploiting women. When I searched through one such site, not 
a single video starred a male actor. Female nudity in film has 
plummeted since its peak of appearing in about six percent of 
all films in the 1990s to less than three percent of all films in 
the past 20 years. This still eclipses male nudity, rarely full- 
frontal, which appears in only 1.67 percent of all films since 
1950. The imbalance of gendered nude scenes was promoted 
in DeepNude, an app launched last summer that virtually un- 
dressed women using neural network technology from online 
nude photos. While DeepNude was taken down within a day, and 
measures such as California's proposed SB 564 (backed by the 
Screen Actors Guild) could prohibit the creation and sharing of 


Opposite page: Laura 
Berger, Flower, 2019. 


Acrylic on canvas. 


194 SYMPOSIUM 


digitally rendered sex scenes without the performers' consent, 
no single federal law protects against deepfake pornography. 

The war over how our most intimate moments are digitally 
disseminated will be waged in our lifetime, with private cit- 
izens soon to face the same concerns as celebrities when it 
comes to how they're represented online. In the meantime, 
Hollywood has responded to performers' concerns about film- 
ing sex scenes with the creation of a new crew position: the in- 
timacy coordinator. Just as stunt coordinators ensure that a 
balletic action sequence won't injure actors, an intimacy co- 
ordinator ensures that actors feel safe and comfortable while 
filming intimate scenes. 

Alicia Rodis, co-founder of Intimacy Directors International, 
is currently working with SAG-AFTRA to create guidelines for 
shooting sex scenes while overseeing the sets of shows like The 
Deuce. Euphoria's intimacy coordinator, Amanda Blumenthal, 
no doubt had a hand in creating the scene between Ferreira and 
Abrams that had me scouring Tumblr like it was 2007. With the 
of-age actors playing high school juniors, the scene could have 
read as exploitative or gratuitous. Instead—thanks to Blumen- 
thal's presence, I imagine—their coupling felt raw and relat- 
able. It thrilled me on a visceral level. 

When I was the age of Ferreira's character on Euphoria, I 
was terrified someone would find out about my film-sex fas- 
cination. I didn't want to be the stereotypical hypersexual fat 
woman, who'd been revealed to me in films like Road Trip as 
the only option for my sexuality. As I've grown more comfort- 
able with my sexuality (and seen it reflected in Shrill, My Mad 
Fat Diary and other media), I feel grateful for my early erotic 
adventures across the cinematic canon. Through all sorts of 
viewing I learned to appreciate every subtle gesture of affection 
between two actors pretending to be in love, and I came to crave 
the tactile, electrifying intimacy captured by films such as The 
Piano and Morvern Callar. 

The feelings-first fervor from my adolescence never fully dis- 
sipated. I still seek sex scenes that challenge what I think I want 
from romance, especially as my own sexual spectrum continues 
to expand. Hollywood may be failing when it comes to depict- 
ing the many facets of contemporary sexuality, but we have also 
moved beyond the regressive sexual politics of Manhattan and 
Disclosure (think Tangerine, The Miseducation of Cameron 
Post and Professor Marston and the Wonder Women). As more 
women step behind the camera, we could soon see sex scenes 
from radical new perspectives that will shift how we think 
about sex at the movies forever—as long as Hollywood is willing 
to showcase them. 

When we talk about diverse and inclusive storytelling, it 
must include depictions of our sexual lives and desires. To 
deny the essential role of sex in cinema is to deny a core truth 
about why we watch in the first place: desire. Desire to live a 
more thrilling life. Desire to experience something that fas- 
cinates us but is too frightening to touch in the real world. 
Whether we admit it or not, this is what keeps us coming back 
to the cinema. Great sex scenes project the secret, unspoken 
desires hiding in a viewer's heart onto a screen in front of 
them. Sex at the cinema has taught me more about my own de- 
sires than I could ever have imagined. I can't wait to be sur- 
prised and shocked by the next era. El 


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с ри «12. COSE 
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PHOTOGRAPHY BY 


NADIA LEE COHEN 


In 2020, the notion of sex positivity has 
found new enthusiasm among young 
women who believe true bodily autonomy 
means having the right to enjoy and par- 
ticipate in what was once written off as ob- 
jectification. The present-day pinup is less 
concerned with how she appears before 
the male gaze than how she feels about her- 
self. She no longer needs photographers 
and publications; she can direct her own 
shoots and post them on Instagram. Her 
modeling may be a rewarding hobby or a 
means of amassing an empire. 

This raises a question: What does this mean 
for РЕАУВОУ and its most famous franchise? 

“Once a Playmate, always a Playmate” goes 
the motto of the nearly 800 women who have 
held the title. But what is a Playmate anyway? 
Who is she? And who has she been all along? 

Not to be confused with Playboy Bunnies 
(for more on the Playboy Club staffers, turn 
to page 209) or other women who’ve posed 
for the magazine, the honorific is short for 
Playmate of the Month, the designation be- 
stowed on those who appear in the maga- 
zine’s preeminent pictorial. It debuted in 
PLAYBOY S first issue—as “Sweetheart of the 
Month"—in 1953 and featured a 23-year- 
old Marilyn Monroe on red velvet, her perky 
breasts jutting out and her hips twisted to 
obscure her pubic area. Then came the Data 
Sheet, which in the past listed Playmates’ 
"turn-ons," "turnoffs" and measurements— 
the last, | suppose, in case fans wanted to 
make them a fancy dress. 

Depending on the eye of the beholder, 
these women were/are either unwitting 
agents of patriarchy, selling their bodies 
for fame and fortune (and the adoration 
of the men typically necessary for secur- 
ing those things), or liberated trailblazers in 
ways some members of their gender could 
never imagine. Describing their origin, this 
magazine's founder said, "The innovation of 
our Playmate pictorials was to humanize the 
pinup concept." 

But why should pinups require human- 
izing in the first place? Is it because men, 
the intended market for these images, don't 
typically see hot naked chicks as anything 


BY 
JAMILAH LEMIEUX 


згуй лута V SAVMIV 


but a sum of measurements? Ог was it а mat- 
ter of removing women from pinup settings to 
make the fantasy more real? 

Playmate pictorials have exhibited ev- 
erything from camp to romance to self- 
awareness, sometimes all together. The 
shoots found women romping in mansions 
or on beaches or draped on top of fancy cars. 
Playmates always seemed to be winking at 
the camera, literally and figuratively, and de- 
lighting in their nakedness. Can you really 
take issue with pretty pictures of happy girls 
having fun? Is it really objectification if the 
object in question appears so deeply satis- 
fied? Even objectification must be viewed, 
well, objectively. Yes, many men have en- 
joyed reducing us women to sexual fanta- 
sies or subjecting us to brief, lusty glares, 
but those men can't parlay fantasies and 
glares into fame and fortune, can they? 


Throughout history, Playmates have also come to represent a type of 
beauty. Personally, I took little interest in the superstar models of the 
19908, during my childhood. Their bodies were not the ones I thought of 
while staring at my pudgy 13-year-old body in the mirror before vomit- 
ing whatever I'd eaten last, and they were not top of mind when І started 
working out a decade later. І did love Anna Nicole Smith, though, and I've 
always found the relative autonomy Playmates enjoy to be enviable. Imag- 
ine having not just a physique so universally accepted you could bare it on 
the pages of this magazine but the courage to do so—and be paid to do so! 
There's something fascinating about the gamble of a woman who could have 
accessed the relative protection and spoils of beauty elsewhere. It's a gam- 
ble that might have catapulted her into her dreams or cost her everything— 
just for daring to be that kind of sexual. 

Alas, sexy is more complicated than beautiful and historically causes 


division among feminists. Some still con- 
sider sex work, stripping and pinup modeling 
to be irredeemable and misogynistic, posit- 
ing that the male gaze is inextricable from 
these institutions even if they are women- 
owned. Others feel the ability for us to exist 
in those spaces is essential—or, at the very 
least, a necessary option. 

To be allowed a space to identify as beau- 
tiful without rebuttal from your community 
and popular culture is a civil right granted 
to only a small percentage of people in this 
country. So when it comes to beauty stan- 
dards, we must do more to expand than 


destroy. Instead of dismissing the “girl next door” as antiquated, Ше most 
progressive of us must reshape norms to include all complexions, all ages, 
all sexual identities and all body types. 

That's why this shoot is so important. We see these Playmates under two 
scopes: as a response to the progressiveness that demands evolution but 
also as godmothers to the autonomous and diverse pinups of today. One 
could make the case that without women like Victoria Valentino (Septem- 
ber 1963 Playmate), Candace Collins Jordan (December 1979 Playmate), 
Reneé Tenison (November 1989 Playmate and first African American 
Playmate of the Year, in 1990), Brande Roderick (April 2000 Playmate 
and 2001 PMOY) and Raquel Pomplun (April 2012 Playmate and the 
first Mexican American PMOY, in 2013) we might not have autonomous 
bodies—whether tattooed, stretch-marked, pierced and/or postpartum— 
filling Instagram feeds. 

These Playmates remind us that all bodies are worthy of public rever- 
ence, but Valentino, at the age of 77, makes the point most compellingly. 
Valentino's presence is powerful because in 2014 she came forward after 
more than 40 years of silence to allege sexual abuse against Bill Cosby. 
“Why did they wait so long?” is a constant challenge to the 60-plus Cosby 


accusers. Women who've put their sexual- 
ity on display struggle to be recognized as 
legitimate victims of sexual violence. But 
Valentino expresses gratitude for having 
been “given this platform so I might use my 
voice for social good.” She's a different sort of 
beautiful, perhaps more alluring than the av- 
erage pert 20-something could hope to be. 

Once a Playmate, always a Playmate. 

That motto could variously refer to these 
models’ sisterhood or their fans’ adoration, 
which continues long after newsstand dates. 
Inadvertently, it also brings to mind how a 
woman's past is always considered, regardless 
of her present. Many Playmates have achieved 
mainstream success allthe same. Valentino is 
а women's rights activist, Jordan is a colum- 
nist, Tenison owns two clothing stores, Rod- 
erick is a Realtor and Pomplun is a comedian. 


PLAYBOY 201 


“I feel зежег іп my 405 than I did іп my 
2os,” Roderick says, “and I worry about the 
young women who think they can't be power- 
ful if nudity is involved.” For Pomplun, that's 
why this shoot represents “a rebellion in the 
face of criticism and judgment.” Adds Jordan, 
“I want to show women that beauty and sexu- 
ality have no limits.” 

Women publicly taking pleasure in their 
bodies and sexuality is still a radical act, and 
it becomes more radical as we age. By return- 
ing to the pages of PLAYBOY, these women do 
more than prove they've "still got it." Per- 
haps here is where they truly *humanize" the 
pinup, reminding the world that our beauty 
doesn't fade with the years; it simply changes 
shape. Our sexuality does not deplete with 
age; it evolves. 

We've made it to a time when a richer expe- 
rience of womanhood has found its place in a 
world once built on youth and the perceived ab- 
sence of physical flaws. There may not be a con- 
sensus over what that means, but it certainly 
feels like progress. 


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PLAYBOY 2 


Diamond Days 


Previous page: The first Playboy 
Club opened in Chicago in 1960, 
introducing to the world the 
boldness of the Bunny. This page: 
Budapest-born Marika Lukacs 

at the Chicago club. Opposite 
page: Announcing the musical 
entertainment at the Detroit club, 
which opened in December 1963. 


То celebrate Ше 
60th anniversary of 
the iconic Playboy 
Bunny, we asked 
more than a dozen 
Bunnies—and one 
Rabbit—to take a 
hop with us down 
memory lane 


On February 29, 1960 the first 
Playboy Club opened its doors, and 
into pop culture bounded the Bunny. 
With her satin ears, sheer stockings, 
boned corset and white tail (the cuffs 
and collars came later), she has re- 
sided in our collective imagination 


Then as now, it took guts and grit to be a 
Bunny. 

On the occasion of the Виппу 5 diamond ап- 
niversary, we reached out to 17 former Bun- 
nies and one Rabbit—among their ranks a 
doctor, two rock singers, a film editor, an at- 
torney and a social worker—and asked them 


ever since. Like the indelible Playboy 

Rabbit Head, the Bunny symbolizes 

the ideal of sophisticated pleasure. 
But unlike the inanimate logo, the Bunnies had the hard work 
of actually bringing that ideal to life. 

It was agood job—if you could get it. Hundreds of Bunny hope- 
fuls typically applied at each new club, some company-owned 
and others franchise-operated. Bunnies could be found work- 
ing in 25 states and seven countries and, after Playboy's private 
DC-9 airplane took off in the early 1970s, in the sky as well. 
From Jamaica to New Jersey, London to Lansing and Omaha 
to Osaka, the Playboy hotels, casinos and resorts offered end- 
less amenities and activities—horseback riding, scuba diving, 
skeet shooting, skiing, roulette. The bushy-tailed Bunny was 
the ever-present standard bearer (and still is: Visit our Playboy 
Club in London). 

Bunny training was rigorous, and standards were high. The 
so-called Bunny Mothers were managers who enforced rules laid 
out in the intimidatingly thick Bunny Manual, but for the Bun- 
nies, tips and other perks including tuition assistance and appear- 
ance fees made the difficult job worthwhile. In the early 1980$, for 
example, Bunnies hired to appear at events approved by Playboy 
earned $17.50 an hour—more than five times the minimum wage. 

The clubs were showplaces for comedians, jazz musicians and 
other performers, but it was the Bunnies, with their practiced- 
to-perfection perch, stance and dip, who were the steady draw. 
For a short while in the mid-1980s, Rabbits—male servers who 
were Bunny counterparts—had their time in the New York hutch; 
more than 1,500 men applied for 25 positions. 

It would be a mistake to look at the Bunny and see only a wait- 
ress; she was so much more. When the Bunny first arrived on the 
scene 60 years ago, the world was still adjusting to the idea of 
women who unapologetically owned their attractiveness or lev- 
eraged it as part of their job. Criticism came from various cor- 
ners, including undercover Bunny Gloria Steinem's two-part 
1963 story in Show magazine. But where some saw sexism, most 
Bunnies saw opportunity. (As one told The New York Times in 
1976, “We're exploiting men; they're not exploiting us. After all, 
those poor slobs just want to come in here and see us.") Many for- 
mer Bunnies credit their time working at the clubs as formative 
to the women they became. 

“1 really owe my Ph.D.—my first one—to Hugh Hefner and 
Playboy, says Elisabeth Clark, a psychologist and psychoan- 
alyst who was known in the original New York club as Bunny 
Dana. “Playboy paid for two college courses every semester. My 
graduate-level classes at New York University were in the day- 
time, and I could still work at night. It was perfect." 


about their time wearing the ears. Read on for 
their memories. 


BUILDING CHARACTER— 
AND BANK ACCOUNTS 
Offering excellent pay, flexible hours and tu- 
ition aid, working as a Bunny was often seen 
as the best gig in town 


Gloria Hendry, New York club, 1965-1972 
(actor, singer, model, legal secretary): 1 be- 
came a Bunny because of the money. Some- 
times I made up to $2,000 a week. I was 
dabbling in acting, and I could never have 
afforded classes if I hadn't been a Bunny. 
Thanks to the hours, I was able to go out on 
auditions, and I got my first Screen Actors 
Guild movie role, in For Love of Ivy, with Sid- 
ney Poitier and Abbey Lincoln. 

Sabrina Scharf Schiller, New York and Ba- 
hamas clubs, 1962-1963 (attorney): I thought 
if I worked very hard and saved diligently, it 
would give me the serious start I needed for my 
education. And that's exactly what happened. I 


PLAYBOY 71 


There was a 
total shift in 
social mores, 
amc Bunnies 
were on the 
front lines of 
клас change. 


worked the first 60 days for the club without a day off, in three-inch 
heels, often doing double shifts. With tips, I was taking home the 
unheard-of amount of $100 per day. Mid-level career men weren't 
earning that much then, let alone young women. 

Marilyn Cole, London club, 1971-1974 (journalist, 1973 
Playmate of the Year): Playboy made us financially independent, 
a rare thing for 21-year-old girls. We could travel, buy our own 
cocktails and the latest fashions—even have mortgages and build 
our own lives. That was powerful. 

Kathryn Leigh Scott, New York club, 1963-1966 (actor, 
author—we’re partial to her 1998 book, The Bunny Years): I was a 
scholarship student at the American Academy of Dramatic Arts, 
working at Bloomingdale's part time, when I saw the ad: “Girls, 
step into the spotlight, become a Playboy Bunny!" It sounded like 
fun, glamor, good pay and perfect hours for my class schedule. 
Lauren Hutton and I met in the long line to audition, and Keith 
Hefner hired both of us. 

Debbie Harry, New York club, 1968 (lead singer and songwriter 
for Blondie): It’s not a job or career choice for everyone; however, 
it was a good education for me, and the Playboy clubs always had a 
high regard for the women who worked there. Being a Bunny was 
the right decision for me, as I have always liked the naughty and 
nice sides of a story. 


AT THE VANGUARD 
As the sexual revolution got under wa in the 1960s, influenced in 
no small part by PLAYBOY, other social changes were transform- 
ing the cultural landscape 


Sabrina Scharf Schiller: Women's lives were changing drasti- 
cally. The advent of the pill brought about more control over our 
bodies and our choices. There was a total shift in social mores, 
and Bunnies were on the front lines of that change. We were the 


212 HERITAGE 


innocent representation of the concept that 
sex is fun. Only the appearance was naughty. 

Angelyn Chester, Chicago club, 1972-1984 
(journalist, 1974 International Bunny of the 
Year): The very first woman who won Inter- 
national Bunny of the Year, Gina Byrams, was 
a woman of color. You have to remember the 
times; race relations were strained. In 1974 I 
won my local Bunny competition, and some 
people said, "Just go to L.A. and have a good 
time. They're not going to pick a woman of 
color after another woman of color” I didn't 
believe that. I thought I had just as good a 
chance as anybody. And I went on to win. 

Jennifer Jackson, Chicago club, 1964 (so- 
cial worker, March 1965 Playmate): Тһе 1960s 
were an amazing period, you know? The 
Black Movement, Vietnam, the hippies, the 
Beatles, Motown. There hasn't been a more 
exciting time since. 

Francesca Emerson, New York and Los 
Angeles clubs, 1963-1968 (film editor): The 
Playboy Club was known for hiring minorities 
even in the early 1960s, when some places were 
still segregated. I was ablackunmarried mother 
living in New York City, and Playboy gave me 
confidence, independence, financial security, 
adventure and opportunities that would never 
have come to me had I still been working the 
counters at Bloomingdale's or serving coffee 
and donuts in some uptown takeout joint. 

Gloria Hendry: The club was wonderful. If 
somebody grabbed my tail or said something 
derogatory to me, like “I don't want that black 
Bunny waiting on ше, the room director would 
walk over and say, “May I have your Playboy 
key, please? Now get out and never come back.” 
What can I say? They protected us, they took 
care of us, and that’s my experience. 


GETTING THE GIG 
Every Bunny—or Rabbit—forged their own 
path to the Playboy Club 


Gwen Wong Wayne, Los Angeles club and 
Big Bunny airplane, 1965-1975 (interior de- 
signer, April 1967 Playmate): My aunt was a 
Bunny in Miami and New York, and she had 
some great stories to tell; I think she was the 
catalyst for my career with Playboy. I showed 
some pictures to Keith Hefner, and he imme- 
diately asked if I could work at the Miami club. 
I couldn't leave my two children, but Keith 
promised that when the L.A. club opened I 
would be one of the first to get a Bunny suit. 
When the club was interviewing hundreds of 
girls, I thought Keith had probably forgotten 
me. He had not. He was a man of his word, and 
I was in—yeah! Later I became a Jet Bunny on 
Playboy’s plane. 

Connie Mason Kasten, Miami and Chicago 
clubs, 1961-1962 (actor, June 1963 Playmate): 


Right: Jet Bunnies take time о from 
their flight attendant duties on the Big 
Bunny to enjoy the sights in Venice, 
Italy in 1970. Below: Front Desk 
Bunnies at the Detroit club update the 
welcome board. 


It was a much coveted job, like being chosen to be in the Miss 
America pageant. Tony Roma had suggested to my dad that I 
apply since the Bunnies made such good tips. During my Bunny- 
hopping years I gained tremendous self-confidence, and I was 
able to support my two little ones as a single mother. 

Jeff Rector, New York Empire Club, 1985-1986 (actor, writer): 
When word went out that Playboy was looking for waiters, every 
Chippendale thought he would get the job. But Playboy didn't 
want a bunch of beefcakes who just strolled around looking pretty. 
You had to do your job and do it well. It's the only job I've ever had 
where I couldn't wait to go to work. 

Dale Bozzio, Boston club, 1973-1976 (musician, lead singer 

Jor Missing Persons): I was 18 years old when I became a Playboy 
Bunny in Boston. Out of 250 girls, they hired four, and I was one of 
them. Training lasted weeks. I learned how to use my beauty in a 
kind, precious manner. I became the best Bunny I possibly could. 


BARRACUDAS AND TOUGH MOTHERS 
The Bunny gig came with some exacting standards (sometimes 
too exacting) and demanding tasks 


Angelyn Chester: It was not a hairnet type of job. We had weeks 
of grueling training. You had to learn howto high-carry a tray with 


two heavy telephone books and how to carry 
the tray at your waist. You had to be strong to 
high-carry, to walk in those heels, to serve. 
And you had to be fast. Once I got my tray, it 
was like a badge of honor. You got your tray, 
your flashlight and your name tag. It was like a 
flight attendant getting her wings. 

Pat Lacey, Los Angeles and Jamaica clubs 
and Big Bunny, 1965-1978 (Playboy Promo- 
tions specialist, writer): We did a weigh-in 
every month; you had to stay within five 
pounds of your original weight. Being a Bunny 
was a workout: You developed strong arms 
from all the lifting and Bunny-dipping. The 
night manager called us experienced Bunnies 
barracudas because you had to be tough to 
make it. When I was a Bunny Mother and we 
needed five girls, we'd get 10 to start. Not all of 
them would make it. Girls would get demerits 
for lateness, for shoes that weren't polished. 
But they were smart and knew how to get by 
my inspections. 

Sabrina Scharf Schiller: I did not like the 
weekly weigh-in to ensure a trim Bunny fig- 
ure was kept under control. Those costumes 
were tight, and we knew when we'd had one 
dessert too many. 


IN THEWARREN 
Myriad positions were available at the clubs: 
Door Bunnies, Floor Bunnies, Pool Bunnies, 
Cabaret Bunnies and more 


Sharron Long, Kansas City and Jamaica 
clubs, 1966-1968 (businesswoman): І took 
over the pool table shortly after starting. It 
was perfect for me. I loved it, and it taught 
me alotabout being an entrepreneur, though 
I wasn't aware of it at the time. I learned how 
to take chances, how to trust my judgment 
and, most important, how to step out of the 
mold that had been created for women at 
that time. 

Joyce Nizzari, Chicago, Miami and New 
Orleans clubs, 1960 (Playboy Mansion exec- 
utive assistant, December 1958 Playmate): 
I worked at the original Chicago club dur- 
ing the first week it opened as a Door Bunny, 
checking key numbers. I wore the Bunny 


PLAYBOY 213 


Like many aspects of 
Playboy history, the Bunny 
suit owes much of its suc- 
cess to women—and not 
just those who wear it. 
Founder Hugh Hefner 
originally wanted silky 
negligees as the club uni- 
form but was talked out of 
the impractical idea by Vic- 
tor Lownes, the promotions 
manager who was instru- 
mental in the development of the clubs. Instead Lownes 
brought Hef a better idea—one Lownes got from his 
girlfriend, actress Ilsa Taurins (whose name is spelled 
variously as Ilze and Ilse). As former Bunny Kath- 
ryn Leigh Scott reports in The Bunny Years, Taurins 
suggested the costume be rabbit-based, a play on the 


214 HERITAGE 


magazine's emblem. Although Hefner had already con- 
sidered and spurned the idea as too masculine, Taurins 
created a one-piece design with an attached tail and 
separate ears, according to Scott. Taurins's seamstress 
mother then assembled the prototype, which Lownes 
showed to Hef. The costume wasn't quite daring enough 
for Hefner's vision, but with minor alterations it formed 
the basis for the world-famous outfit that debuted at the 
Chicago Playboy Club in 1960. 

Quality of craftsmanship in addition to the risk- 
taking fashion surely also helped the costume's legacy. 
According to New York University director of costume 
studies Nancy Deihl, the clubs commissioned talented 
women to custom-build the suits, including Zelda 
Wynn Valdes, who fabricated them for the New York 
club that opened in December 1962. 

"The Bunny costume has withstood the test of time 
because of its simplicity," says Kristi Beck, a Playboy 


costume with по соПаг ог cuffs because they 
hadn't been added to the uniform yet. The 
lines to get in were so long that Ше doors were 
almost never fully closed; I remember getting 
snow on my costume. 

Gloria Hendry: I wound up starting as a 
Cigarette Bunny, saying, "Cigars, cigarettes, 
Tiparillos, Playboy lighters? One dollar and 
five cents." I'll never forget those lines. And 
men used to come by and give me a $100 or 
$50 tip. 

Pat Lacey: After six weeks of training in In- 
diana in an enormous hangar, and in Florida 
for water-evacuation training, and in Wiscon- 
sin atthe Lake Geneva club, where the Playboy 
chef taught us how to prepare gourmet meals, 
I became a Jet Bunny. Normally a flight would 
have just one preflight FAA inspector. But 
on the Big Bunny there were always multiple 
inspectors—they wanted to see Hef's plane 
and the Jet Bunnies! 

Carol Cleveland, London club, 1966 
(comedian, writer and Monty Python cast 
member): I started off in the Cabaret Room. 
Once I took people's orders and the show 
started, I could watch the cabaret. Dave Allen 
was a well-known comedian here in England, 
and he was the star when I first started. I was 
a great fan and happy as could be watching 
him perform every night. 


LIFE LESSONS FROM THE 
DRESSING ROOM 
Co-workers became friends who became fam- 
ily within the special society of Bunnydom 


Marilyn Cole: The Bunny room was the most 
liberating place—there was swearing, nudity, 
camaraderie and pluralism. I learned about 
politics, social justice and religious diversity. A 
Bunny roommate had been born in Aden as a Zo- 
roastrian; she called it the oldest religion in the 
world. She would burn incense and pray every 
night, even wear a religious garment around her 
waist underneath her Bunny costume. 

Kathryn Leigh Scott: I was a farm kid from 
the Midwest mixing with 110 other young 
women in every size and shape, from every 
religious, ethnic, cultural, economic and ra- 
cial background, from all over the world. The 
Bunny dressing room circa 1963 was more 
diverse than a college campus even 20 years 
later. A single mother from a Harlem project 
donned the same jewel-colored costume as 
an heiress, an East German refugee whod es- 
caped the Berlin Wall, the daughter of a Chi- 
nese diplomat, a gap-toothed tomboy who be- 
came a supermodel; I interviewed them all for 
The Bunny Years. 

Candace Collins Jordan, St. Louis and Chi- 
cago clubs, 1973-1977 (columnist, December 


Opposite page, top left and right: 
Each Bunny's garment is custom-fit to 
her needs by an experienced seamstress. 
Opposite page, lower left: Scottie Scott 
of the New Orleans club works as a Pool 
Bunny. Below: Cynthia Maddox models 
an early collarless, cuffless version of the 
Bunny suit (architectural model of the 
Chicago club in the background). 


senior manager and part of a group responsible for 
overseeing Bunny selection and training. 

Small changes to the hare-raising getup have been 
made over the decades: the addition of the tuxedo col- 
lar and cuffs and a name-tag rosette, a tweak to the 
high-cut leg, a slight redesign of the ears, more accom- 
modating cup sizes—but the Bunny remains as recog- 
nizable as ever. 

By the time the suit turned 20, various versions were 
in use alongside the solid-color satin classic: suits with 
psychedelic patterns inspired by Emilio Pucci, a VIP 
suit in velvet, a lacy (and short-lived) cabaret version 
and a fur-trimmed green or red Christmas look. And 
not all Bunnies wore the famous suit; season, location 
and responsibility also dictated their attire, with non- 
corset-based outfits for Ski Bunnies, Croupier Bun- 
nies, Beach Bunnies and others. 

Today Playboy Club servers wear suits that were 


updated in 2005 with accessories by designer Roberto 
Cavalli. In 2018 Bunnies at the Coachella music fest 
wore a new green-leaf-patterned suit, but the original 
1960 silhouette remains intact. 

Since its appearance six decades ago, the Bunny suit 
has woven its way into the fabric of American culture, 
donned by everyone from Dolly Parton to Flip Wilson 
to Kate Moss. It was the first service uniform ever reg- 
istered with the U.S. Patent and Trademark Office, 
and a complete Bunny costume can be found in the col- 
lection of the Smithsonian. Like other cultural main- 
stays, how it's seen often depends on who's looking at 
it, including the Bunnies themselves. 

“Bunnies like wearing it for different reasons,” 
says Beck, who sometimes fits new Bunnies into their 
suits. “Some see it as playful and nostalgic; others see 
it as badass empowerment. We don't need to define it 
for them." 


PLAYBOY 


215 


wa ا‎ 


1979 Playmate): Тһе Bunnies were Ше 
sisters I never had. It was а unique soror- 
ity and a joy for me. 

Francesca Emerson: We bonded like 
glue. Playboy was like a gigantic family 
of different people of different back- 
grounds and different cultures, all work- 
ing hard to improve themselves. When 
we weren't working, we'd meet at each 
other's houses and have lunches and 
dinners together, participate in each 
other's kids' birthday parties, even take 
vacations together. Half a century later, I 
still have close friendships from the New 
York and L.A. clubs. 


MISCONCEPTIONS 
Donning the ears could come with some 


baggage 


Marilyn Cole: I am shocked that I still 
sometimes have to defend myself for 
having been а Bunny and a Playmate. 
It was a woman who interviewed me. It 
was a woman who trained me. It was a 
woman who did PR at the club. PLAYBOY 
magazine's photo editor was a woman. 
The first woman gaming inspector in the 
U.K. casino industry had been a Playboy 
Croupier Bunny. I wish people knew 
that. Who would have thought we would 
have such an impact on social history? 
The Bunnies were pioneers. We stood for 
freedom. 

Candace Collins Jordan: I wish peo- 
ple understood what a wonderful op- 
portunity this was for women like me 
instead of thinking we were exploited. It 
was our choice to be Bunnies. We made 
great money and great friends and had 
wonderful opportunities that are now 
lasting memories. It was a priceless and 
life-changing experience for me and 
made me who I am today. 

Jennifer Jackson: In the 1960s and 
1970$, no one thought black people were 
pretty. And then people saw me as a 
black woman, and that black is beauti- 
ful, in all different shades. That was one 
of the things that we promoted. 

Kathryn Leigh Scott: Former Bunnies 
include entrepreneurs, lawyers, judges, 
CEOs, professors, architects, restau- 
rateurs, scientists and a few actors and 


Opposite page: At Playboy's Lake Geneva resort 
guests could partake in various seasonal activities, 
‚from skiing to swimming to horseback riding, with 
friendly assistance from Bunnies (Playmate and 
Bunny Gwen Wong Wayne at far right). Right: 
Sandy Lawrence at the New York club, circa 1963. 


writers—none of us turning in our satin 
ears to collect Social Security! 

Angelyn Chester: Hefner sent a memo 
to corporate explaining that if it were not 
for the women, the Playmates and the 
Bunnies in particular, that the company 
would not exist, so they are to be respected 
and not harassed. He was ahead of his 
time when it came to policies like that. 


GOOD TIMES, GREAT MEMORIES 
From celebrity customers to softball star- 
dom, the Bunnies and Rabbits led unfor- 
gettable lives 


Pat Lacey: In Jamaica they had goat 
racing on the beach for guests to watch. 
Guys would climb the trees and grab 
fresh coconuts right off the palms. Dur- 
ing the day, before six Р.М., we wore a two-piece bikini, ears and 
tail, with flip-flops, and in the evenings the standard Bunny 
costume. I overstayed my visa and got booted from the country! 

Elisabeth Clark, New York and Montreal clubs, 1965-1975 
(psychologist and psychoanalyst): 1 was working the Playmate 
Bar one night, and this guy was at my station all by himself, 
wearing a hat and a raincoat. I took his order, scotch and water 
or something, and I served it to him. The bartender said, “Do 
you know who you're waiting on?" I said, "No, why?" And he 
says, “That's Paul Newman” I said, “Who's Paul Newman?" 

Jeff Rector: Wherever we went, people were like, ^Oh my 
God, it's the Bunnies and Rabbits from the Playboy Club” We 
could get into any club, anytime. We could get reservations at 
any restaurant. We really were treated like celebrities. 

Francesca Emerson: Playing on the Bunny softball team is 
one of my favorite memories. It started as a charity event in 
the Chicago club and was so successful it spread throughout 
the clubs. The New York club's team was so competitive. Every 
Thursday at noon, the Dream Team, as we were known, played 
in Gentral Park; we wore black tights and orange sweaters with 
the Bunny logo on the front. 


THE TAIL END 
A parting thought from a beloved Bunny 


Dale Bozzio: I'm the proudest Bunny. Everything I learned as 
a Playboy Bunny brought me to today. I'm 64 years old; I go on 
stage every month, maybe four times a month. I learned to be 
courageous and to be a proud woman and to know how beauti- 
ful I am. I learned to love myself. And that's where I'm coming 
from; that's how I write all my music. That's how I live my life, 
and that's how I've raised my sons. 


Reporting by Tori Lynn Adams, Cat Auer, Andie Eisen and 
Michele Sleighel. 


PLAYBOY 217 


HERITAGE SPOTLIGHT 


Ме ігаіп 

our lens оп 

the magazine's 
founding photo 
editor for some 
long overdue 


Few jobs are as ready-made 
to inspire envy among lov- 
ers of women than that of 
PLAYBOY photo director. 
Yet little has been writ- 


exposure ten about the magazine's 
founding "picture editor," 
ву CAT АЦЕВ Vincent Т. Tajiri, who for 


15 stratospheric years 

oversaw our photo depart- 

ment. During his tenure 
Tajiri watched the print run top 7 million, thanks in large part 
to the teeming photographer and stringer ecosystem he 4еуе]- 
oped. Praised as a gentleman and a deep thinker by his former 
employees (and called a cocksucker by Hunter S. Thompson; 
more on that later), he remained an elusive figure among the 
many outsize personalities of PLAYBOY's early years. So who 
was Vince Tajiri? 
Born in southern California in 1919, Tajiri was a teenager when 
his older brother Larry, who went on to be a distinguished jour- 
nalist, brought home a 35-mm SLR camera from a reporting trip 
to Asia. Vince, who'd been priming himself to be a writer, fell 
in love with the medium. “I knew very little about photography 
then,” he told Popular Photography in 1968, “but I shot promis- 
cuously and uninhibitedly.” At the same time he was developing 
his photography skills, he wrote prolifically for English-language 
papers that served the Japanese American community. 

At the age of 18 he moved to San Francisco to work for one 
such daily, Nichibei Shinbun. The previous year һе had created 
Rigmarole, an intermittent Nichibei column that variously cov- 
ered the nisei (Americans who, like Tajiri, were born to immi- 
grant parents from Japan), sports stats, movies and any other 
topic that caught Tajiri's attention. 

In February 1941 Tajiri was drafted into the Army. He was 
at Camp Bonneville in Washington state on December 7 of 
that year when Japan attacked Pearl Harbor. The next day the 
United States entered World War II, and less than three months 
later the government ordered nearly 120,000 Japanese Amer- 
icans living on the West Coast—the vast majority of them 
U.S.-born citizens—out of their homes and into incarceration 
camps. Among them were Tajiri's mother and younger siblings, 
who were sent to the camp in Poston, Arizona with only what 
they could carry. They lost everything else, including the home 
they owned in San Diego. 

Tajiri was a sergeant in the 442nd Regimental Combat 
Team—the famed unit composed of nisei soldiers that became 
the military's most decorated—when he married his girlfriend, 
Rose Hayashi, in Hattiesburg, Mississippi in August 1943, 
ahead of his expected deployment. Poor health ultimately kept 
Tajiri out of overseas duty. Three of his brothers volunteered to 
serve. One, who joined the Army out of Poston in 1943, was later 
awarded a Purple Heart. 

The inequity between the Tajiris' service and the govern- 
ment's bigotry is almost too obvious to state, but Vince gave it 
eloquent expression in a September 1942 letter to the Fresno 
Bee: "Except for minor differences in pigment we are just like 


you." Not only did the Army have Japanese American officers, 
he reminded readers, but "another 16,000 are serving in the 
ranks.... America's battle is our battle, and America's enemies 
are our enemies." 

After the war, Vince and Rose moved to Chicago, where they 
started a family. Vince took on freelance photo assignments 
and soon enough was working concurrently as editorial direc- 
tor of three photo-based titles: Guns Magazine, Art Photogra- 
phy and Figure Quarterly, the first two of which were titles of 
Publishers' Development Corp. While at PDC, Tajiri met Hugh 
Hefner, who worked in the circulation department by day and, 
later, in his kitchen on his nascent magazine by night. Both Art 
Photography and Figure Quarterly featured pinup and nude 
photography, and it's likely Tajiri's experience with such mate- 
rial helped Hefner see him as an attractive recruit. 

In 1956 Tajiri signed on to be PLAYBOY'S first photo editor, 
making him Hefner's “third important hire," according to Hef- 
ner biographer Steven Watts—presumably after art director 
Art Paul, who designed the Rabbit Head, and A.C. Spectorsky, 
a key editor. Shel Silverstein, in his 1964 three-part history of 
PLAYBOY, wryly imagined Hef's hiring process: “Here's how it 
will be...Spec is the associate publisher, so he gets $700 a week... 
Vic is promotion director, so he gets $500 a week...John is pro- 
duction manager, so he gets $400 a week...and Tajiri, you'll be 
photographing the girls, so you pay us $100 a week!" 

“When I arrived, the photo department was me, one file cabi- 
net, a secretary and two desks,” Tajiri once said. A decade later, 
he was managing a staff of dozens and a country wide network of 
stringers. The photo facilities he developed at 919 North Michi- 
gan Avenue in Chicago included studio spaces, processing labs, 
a library and a full kitchen, where film was kept in the freez- 
ers. By 1968 the in-house lab was developing about 5,000 rolls 
of film on-site annually, with thousands more sent elsewhere. 

In addition to producing images for the magazine, Tajiri over- 
saw the photo needs of the clubs, which numbered more than a 
dozen by 1965, and supervised the photography in VIP, the club 
magazine. Playboy's many other departments often required 
original shoots, including for advertising and mail-order prod- 
ucts, the Playboy Press and Playboy's modeling agency. Eventu- 
ally Tajiri was responsible for Playboy's three full-time studios 
in Chicago, New York and Los Angeles. 

Naturally Tajiri's influence went beyond the images: In 
1959, Hefner wanted to run a black-and-white photo taken at 
a nude-dancing establishment. “There's pubic hair evident in 
the picture. It's more than a shadow,” Tajiri told Rolling Stone 
in 1973. But Hefner didn't want to retouch it, instead print- 
ing it very small. Tajiri was nervous about running afoul of 
obscenity laws—this was four years before the city of Chicago 
took Hefner to court for publishing photos of a nude Jayne 
Mansfield—and so, іп Tajiri's words, he “shaped up the trian- 
gle where it was a little ragged. Made it look like a G-string." 
Tajiri even created a fake contact sheet. When the FBI came to 
investigate, they closely inspected the doctored duplicates but 
found nothing amiss. 

His role at the magazine afforded him proximity to celeb- 
rities, including Peter Sellers, with whom he played poker at 


PLAYBOY 219 


Opening page: Tajiri and his staff photographers pose in a pajama- 
Pepsi-pipe tribute to Hefner, circa 1968, taken by Bill Arsenault. 
Clockwise from Tajiri: Mario Casilli, Pompeo Posar, Alexas Urba, 
Larry Gordon, J. Barry O'Rourke and Jerry Yulsman. Above: A June 


1958 Playbill image of the dapper photo director. 


Above: Tajiri and associate picture editor 


Bev Chamberlain at a 1962 magazine meeting 


inthe original Playboy Mansion in Chicago. 


Playboy's London casino, and John Cassavetes, who became 
a good friend, according to Tajiri's daughter, Rea Tajiri, a 
filmmaker. But not all high-profile interactions were so warm. 
In 1969 Hunter S. Thompson was working on a PLAYBOY story 
about French ski champ Jean-Claude Killy and his promotional 
tour for Chevrolet. Thompson and a member of the Chevy PR 
team were out drinking in Chicago when Tajiri swung by to ask 
the flak to bring Killy to the Mansion that evening for a photo 
shoot. The invite did not extend to Thompson. “Тһе cocksucker 
told me to get lost," Thompson groused after the magazine 
killed his article. 

By the early 1970s, Tajiri had begun to doubt the direction the 
magazine was headed. Penthouse, a raunchy imitator, was gain- 
ing popularity and pushing PLAYBOY into new territory. Hefner 
decided to print a photo revealing a peek of Playmate pubic hair 
in the January 1971 issue. 

“I was very, very unhappy about it. I felt we were chasing an 
upstart," Tajiri later told British writer Russell Miller. Hefner 
eventually agreed, saying the magazine had temporarily *lost 
[its] compass,” but by then Tajiri had left the company. Back on 
the West Coast, he contributed technical discussions and com- 
mentary sections to books by photographic heavyweights in- 
cluding Annie Leibovitz, Mary Ellen Mark, Will McBride and 
Bert Stern. In 1977 he wrote a thorough and entertaining biogra- 
phy of silent-screen star Rudolph Valentino for Bantam Books. 

Life іп Los Angeles helped Tajiri reconnect with his roots. “It 
was kind of like a homecoming for him," says Rea Tajiri. “Не 
started working more in the Japanese American community." 
Among other collaborative projects, Vince edited the 1990 pub- 
lication Through Innocent Eyes, a compilation of art, poetry 
and essays created by children incarcerated at the Poston camp. 

Despite running the photography department of a magazine 
renowned for its imagery, Tajiri's name is not as well known as 
Hefner's or Paul's. Some of his former employees attribute that 
relative obscurity to his quiet nature and indifference to the 
spotlight. His grandson Vince Schleitwiler, a professor of eth- 
nic studies at the University of Washington, sees cultural fac- 
tors at play. 

"The fact that he was kind of invisible but really influential 
is very much like a lot of other high-achieving Japanese Ameri- 
cans after the war—people who did really significant things in 
design and architecture, in the sciences and other professional 
fields," says Schleitwiler. "But they were not inclined to call at- 
tention to themselves, having experienced what having atten- 
tion called to you was like." 

Granddaughter Midori Tajiri, who lived in the Tajiri family 
house in L.A. in the late 1980s and early 1990s and is today a 
New Orleans artist, remembers how supportive Vince was of 
family and community. ^He loved watching In Living Color be- 
cause there was a Japanese hip-hop dancer. Every time they 
would come on, he would point her out,” Midori says. “It was а 
big deal, because Japanese didn't always have a role in media 
and society when he was growing up." 

Of course, it all comes back to the pictures. Tajiri died in 
1993, but you can still glimpse his quiet brilliance on thousands 
of PLAYBOY pages—and in a remark he made to Popular Photog- 
raphy in 1968. “Тһе most important thing in a photograph of a 
woman is her eyes,” he said. “If a woman's eyes are not sharp, 
if they don't say anything, the picture doesn't run in PLAYBOY." 

In the same interview, he also said, “Without photography, there 
would be no PLAYBOY." To which we might add—without Vince 
Tajiri, one can only wonder what PLAYBOY would have been. 


Playboy's Rearview 


Over 66 years and 761 issues, we've 
covered plenty of ground. From mari- 
juana policy to Mideast mediation to 
feminist porn, here аге a handful of 
contributions worth a second look 


TONES 


History unfolded in the March 1956 PLAYBOY 
with the three-page photo of nightie-clad 
Marian Stafford—the magazine's first literal 
Centerfold. Although Stafford captivates as 
a Playmate (below left), the talent behind the 
lens is equally notable: Ruth Sondak (left), 
who had been a World War Il photojournal- 
ist. After the war Sondak became an agency 
photographer and later a freelancer, shoot- 
ing portraits of such luminaries as Winston 
Churchill and Eleanor Roosevelt, among 
other assignments, across a decades-long 
career. Sondak's photos of antiwar protest- 
ers swarming the Pentagon in 1967 are per- 
haps her best known—excluding, of course, 
her pictorial of Stafford. 


Frequent pLaysoy contributor Alex Haley 
(below) phoned George Lincoln Rockwell, 
leader of the American Nazi Party, and asked 
him to sit for the April 1966 Playboy Interview. 
“After assuring himself that | wasnt Jew- 
ish, he guardedly agreed,” Haley reported. "I 
didn't tell him | was a Negro.” Upon Haley's 
arrival to the interview in Arlington, Virginia, 
Rockwell produced a pearl-handled re- 
volver, displaying it on the arm of his chair. He 
needed it for protection from assassins, he 
insisted. Haley tolerated Rockwell's hostility 
with backbone and humor ("уе been called 
‘nigger’ many times, Commander, but this is 
the first time I’m being paid for it,” Haley said) 
to get his story—a fascinating and nearly 
12,000-word conversation. Haley went on to 
pen the groundbreaking book Roots in 1976; 
Rockwell, it turns out, did need protection— 
an American Nazi shot him to death in 1967. 


DEAR PLAYBOY 


E ЫЛЕ теу MAGAZINE + төзген шін, FI н. есик SAE, оны, и миз SIHTI 


19) 0) 


MELTING РОТ 
Ше емнен w м 


ний Eie, Feet. kas re 


Іп January 1970, Ше Dear Playboy section 
was ablaze in reaction to the article that 
had sparked the рглүвоү cover line A MEDICAL 
AUTHORITY CALLS FOR THE LEGALIZATION OF РОТ. Dr. 
Joel Fort had argued just that in Pot: A Ratio- 
nal Approach, setting in motion a deluge of 
letters from across the country. Reader re- 
sponse to the then controversial idea came 
from medical doctors, the assistant secre- 
tary of the Department of Health and even 
a former U.S. narcotics commissioner. Three 
members of the U.S. House of Represen- 
tatives also wrote in—all supporting loos- 
ened drug laws. Fifty years later, most states 
allow some degree of usage, but marijuana 


remains illegal at the federal level. 


Porn and feminism are not mutually exclu- 
sive, argued Nadine Strossen in the Feb- 
ruary 1995 Forum. Strossen (left)—the 
youngest president and first female leader 
ofthe American Civil Liberties Union and au- 
thor of Defending Pornography—discussed 
censorship, sexuality and more with as- 
sistant editor Dorothy Atcheson. "If my so- 
called equality doesnt include freedom 
of expression, how am | equal?" Stros- 
sen asked. “Апа, if freedom of expres- 
sion doesnt include the right to talk about 
sex, to look at pornography, to pose for it, 
to perform in it, to defend it, how do I have 
free speech?" Strossen, who led the ACLU 
for 17 years, is now a New York Law School 
professor; her work paved the way for to- 
day's sex-positive feminists. 


Dick Gregory (left) is best known as a 
comedian—he got his big break at the Chi- 
cago Playboy Club in 1961—but he was also a 
committed activist, often using hunger strikes 
to draw attention to issues such as tribal rights, 
police brutality and apartheid. In 1980 he trav- 
eled to Iran, where the shah had recently been 
overthrown and 52 Americans had been cap- 
tured, to "fast and pray for the safe resolution 
of the hostage crisis” Gregory, a convert to 
Islam, got an unexpected introduction to the 
Ayatollah Khomeini and even met with some 
of the revolutionaries who were holding the 
captives, presenting a three-stage plan under 
which he thought they could be freed. Nothing 
came of the proposal, but he walked away with 
an amazing tale he recounted in the Decem- 
ber 1980 PLAvgov feature Inside Khomeinis Iran 
(co-written with reporter Barbara Reynolds). 


Explore these pieces and more at iPlayboy.com. 


` CLASSIC 


0 


Just a minute, how come were always looking for a 
white whale?” 


1 
С° Кан] v TE 


“Frankly, Brother Dominick, your case appears to be 
"You got it. I'm only visiting ERA without precedent, but it is unlikely that you can 
states this year." remain a monk." 


222 HERITAGE 


CARTOONS 


TOON 
ЖЧ а) 


“This year, Um just giving fruitcake and vibrators.” “How about a little Germaine Greer for a change?” 


“Уои should be making as much as the pope!” “But I dont want to meet a tall dark man. 
How about a tall blonde woman?” 


PLAYBOY 223 


Ош-Ғергиагу 1982 Play 


conquering both sides 


226 НЕКПАСЕ 


¿photo that shows me іп midair, leaping into splits, my Playmate 
orial begins with this canny observation: "Anne Marie Fox is eager to 
get on with the business of being Anne Marie Fox." At 19, my ambition— 
and my impatience to make my own way in the world—was already ap- 
parent to my interviewer. Looking back, it's clear to me that PLAYBOY 
captured a turning point in my life. Although I didn't realize it at the 
time, my first experience in front of the camera catalyzed what would be- 
come my passion for working behind it. 

When I was 11, I moved with my mother to West Germany, where I at- 
tended Gymnasium—an academics-focused secondary school. The Ger- 
man educators were just as strict as the Catholic nuns I was used to, but 
my time in West Germany was formative. I absorbed and adopted valu- 
able aspects of the culture; discipline and a strict work ethic still shape 
my daily habits. Without my exposure to European culture, I doubt I 
would be as open-minded and liberal-thinking as I am today. Travel is 
truly the best educator. 

It was while I was abroad that I discovered my first PLAYBOY, hidden in 
my German-language tutor's bathroom. I remember thinking, I wish I 
had a body beautiful enough to be in PLAYBOY one day. Seven years later, 
after I had moved back to the States, my adolescent desire came true. 

I was a freshman at Mount Saint Mary's College in Los Angeles when 
I agreed one day to go shopping with my roommate, who drove us out 
to Sunset Boulevard. Her parallel-parking skills were iffy at best, so I 
stepped out and guided her into the only available spot. As I remember 
it, when we went to cross the street, a friendly young man approached 
us and asked if we would be interested in meeting with his boss— 
PLAYBOY's photo editor. We had happened to park directly outside her 
office window. My roommate and I glanced at each other, assuming it 
must be some sort of joke, then agreed to check it out as a dare. I ex- 
pected the photo editor to be interested in my beautiful roommate, so it 
was a shock when she asked if I would consider posing. Playing along, I 
said, “Sure, why not?” “Fantastic!” she replied, then led me through the 
corridors into a massive, sun-drenched photo studio. The next day I re- 
ceived a call at my dorm informing me that Hugh Hefner had approved 


w 


2 wo =e, м 
"ы ч "4 , 


This page and inset: “Twas 
photographed on the grounds 

of the Playboy Mansion, on the 
tennis court,” Fox says. "Tennis 
was and still is my favorite 
sport, so Im particularly fond of 
these semi-nude yet remarkably 
wholesome images.” 


This раде: “This photo of те 

is a favorite. It actually exudes 
some palpable sensuality—it's 
hard for me to sag that without 
laughing a bit.” Opening 


my Polaroid; I could begin Ше Playmate 
shoot as soon as my semester ended. 

My experience on set was incredible. I 
was treated so well—even spoiled a bit— 
and felt I was working in a creative envi- 
ronment with consummate professionals. 
Each day afforded me new insights on 
photography, lighting, production design, 
hair and makeup, and my own physical- 
ity. Modeling for PLAYBOY was my first op- 
portunity to experience both sides of the 
camera. I began to understand the sym- 
biosis between subject and photographer. 

The reality of being a Playmate didn't 
actually sink in until I saw my published 
pictorial for the first time. En route to a 
Playboy event, I picked up the magazine at 
an airport newsstand. As I flipped through 
the pages, I became distracted by a group 
of Japanese businessmen enthusiastically 
doing the very same. They spotted me and 
did a double-take at my Centerfold. We all 
shared a knowing smile. 

After my PLAYBOY pictorial came out, 
I dabbled in fashion modeling and com- 
mercial acting. I signed with a few agen- 
cies and moved to New York City to enroll 
at the Stella Adler Conservatory of Act- 
ing, but unfortunately the climate of 
the early 1980s was not ideal for Afri- 
can American actresses. The only jobs І 
managed to secure were mostly for back- 
ground talent and the occasional tele- 
vision commercial. This was hardly 
satisfying, so І began rethinking my op- 
tions as an artist. 

After four years honing my acting 
craft with Stella Adler, І attended Co- 
lumbia University, majoring in English 
literature and minoring in film studies. 
Post-graduation, І applied to the Inter- 
national Center of Photography and was 
accepted. I apprenticed under the legend- 
ary Brigitte Lacombe and Nan Goldin, 
who equipped me with the technique 
and self-esteem to pursue photography 


professionally. Partly thanks to Goldin's encouragement, I came 
to realize my degrees from Columbia could be parlayed into a 
fulfilling photography career. This was a huge epiphany! Based 
on her unwavering support, I relocated to Italy after graduating 
to work on developing my first portfolio. 

A few years later, I received an offer to head to London and bea 

photographer on the set of Mary Shelley's Frankenstein, directed 
by and co-starring Kenneth Branagh. My job was to capture the 
daily intensive prosthetics transformation of the lead actor, Rob- 
ert De Niro, whose metamorphosis from man into the monster 
was fascinating to witness and to photograph. As his charac- 
ter evolved, so did the prosthetics—an extra scar here, a wooden 
limb there. It was my first foray into set photography, and I found 
every aspect of the work energizing. Iremember asI stood gaping 
at the scale and authenticity of this period piece, a distinct sensa- 
tion washed over me. I was finally in my happy place: a creative 
environment surrounded by screenwriters, acclaimed actors and 
an über-talented director, all of whom I genuinely respected and 
admired, and me, camera in hand, given free rein to document 
this fleeting endeavor. 
I still have specific career goals as a photographer that, hopefully, 
are not beyond my reach, and I can also envision myself writing 
and directing. But after more than 20 years in the industry, my 
larger dream has become to uplift and inspire others through my 
work. Each assignment still feels so visceral; each project takes 
up a sacred space within my subconscious. I want to establish my- 
self as a dedicated image maker, storyteller and role model for 
all women and especially women of color. As much as my life has 
changed since becoming a Playmate, I continue to evolve as an 
artist. I’ll always be eager to get on with the business of being me. 


PLAYBOY 229 


Му happy place: а 
creative environment 
surrounded by people 
I respect and admire. 


REISE IAEA 


A > = —— AMT DR 
h -— ay er 
| / om 7 


230 HERITAGE 


Opposite page, бор left: 

‘Twas practicing my jumping 

splits poolside, and Phillip 

Dixon managed to capture 

me in midair. He was a 

wonderful photographer; he 

took almost all my pictorial 

photos. I'll admit I always had 

a little crush on Phillip." This 

page, following page and. 

Е remaining photos opposite 
page: More outtakes from Fox’s 
Playmate shoot. “My interest іт 
photography played a crucial 
part in my decision to explore 
working as a model. Гое always 
“hada keen interest in classical 
painting and the nude figure as 
well, so when the opportunity to 
become a nude model presented 
itself as serendipitously as it 
did, it was a no-brainer to pose 
‚for PLAYBOY." 


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CHICAGO, FEBRUARY 1972 ` 
Civil rights legends (from left) T.R.M. Howard, Thomas Todd, Je: 

Cecil Hale attend a PUSH event at the original Playboy Mansion. Jacksc 
People United to Serve Humanity, in 1971. 


234 HERITAGE 


Y 


CHRISTIANE AMANPOUR 
LOVE WAT TS ORVILLE PECK KATIE HILL 
DIANE GUERRERO PRINCESS NOKIA 
NADIA LEE COHEN KATE HAGEN 
RILEY TICOTINCHASITY SAMONE 
ANITA PATHAMMAVONG ELSA JEAN 
HANK WILLIS THOMAS JERRY SALTZ 
DEBBIE HARRY CLAIRE LOMBARDO 
CHARLOTTE RUTHERFORD ERIC ANDRE 
JR JIM CARREY HEATHER HAZZAN 
SHAN BOODRAM STERLING K. BROWN 
LEWIS TRONDHEIM LINDY WES!