Author: Lauren Purnell

Will St. Leger dubbed Butcher Queers #4, released in Winter 2010 and based in Dublin, “The People Issue.” From my first read-through, I could see this theme come through in the candidness of the photos and the clear writing from the contributors that encourage the reader of this zine to think beyond the status quo, and what is upheld ‘normal.’ And, as St Leger declared in the editor’s note, there are no advertisements for “clubs, bars, events and products.”

The zine itself is visually striking. Most images are printed in black and white, and the red of the text is the only element that breaks that.

Even images that don’t fit this pattern pull the viewer in, either in the way it’s edited, the way color is used as an overlay or as a balance to the black and white. 

In “Get A Room…”, David Babby points out how public displays of affection between two gay lovers is seen as radical, and examines several reasons why. He states: “PDA’s are blatant reminders of said ‘wrong’ sex, therefore gay sex is fetishized and shoved to the margins.” Using this logic, it becomes clear why homophobes become so hostile towards gay couples expressing love for each other in public spaces. Babby adds another layer of consideration by suggesting a coexistence between curiosity and disgust in the mind of a passive homophobe: 

Those who believe that being gay is immoral, ie. the religious, tend to have an unhealthy, if not rather understandable obsession with the exciting sex life of the homosexual. It wouldn’t matter whether or not they were walloped between the eyes with a Parisian erection or subjected to the sight of two men locking lips — they would be equally affronted (and curious).

This observation from Babby is a sort of sibling-concept to spectacle erasure, which refers to how marginalized groups are fetishized and looked upon with a sort of invasive curiosity, while the true, lived experience of marginalized groups are erased.

Babby ends his piece by suggesting that we move towards viewing PDA as what it is (a public display of affection) rather than an act of civil disobedience. While this won’t happen any time soon, the possibility of that future has been articulated, and the reader has absorbed it. The final line of this essay goes: “Now form an orderly queue. Who’s going to get his head kicked in to make things easier for the rest of us?”

“Super Nature” is an interview with a drag king called Pan-Demonium (also known as Sadie) and their mate, Sean, who is a queer trans man. I loved reading Sean’s interview because he articulates what it means to be trans beyond the gender binary. Sean’s identity as a trans boy doesn’t place him into this ultra-masculine box. He describes himself as “a mixture as masculine and feminine and either side of me would never let the other down.” Sean also had poignant advice for trans people who are transitioning or thinking about transitioning, saying that “No-one knows you better than you.” There’s a deep sense of knowing within a lot of us, and it’s often tampered by the notion that someone else (doctors, psychiatrists, other trans people, etc.) has to ‘approve’ your transness, which does little to help the trans community. 

My favorite part Sadie’s drag king alter-ego is its animalistic nature, which is something I have not seen before. While drag queens have become extremely popular in both the queer and straight worlds, drag kings have remained somewhat underground, thus limiting the public imagination of what a drag king can look like. Sadie describes the origin of the name Pan-Demonium:

He comes from ‘Pan’ (half man, half goat), the Greek God of shepherds and flocks, mountain wilds, hunting and rustic music, as well as the companion of nymphs. He’s famed for his sexual prowess and seduction of the Goddesses.

Sadie is not only creating a drag identity that extends beyond the gender binary, but also beyond the lines of human and animal. For Pan-Demonium, the ambiguity — from being mistaken as a guy to inhabiting an alter-ego that isn’t fully human or animal — is the point.

Emily Aoibheann’s essay “I performed and no one tried to take photographs” was relevant when this zine was first released, and it remains relevant as I write about it in 2025. Aoibheann examines the power of being able to perform for an audience of humans, rather than an audience of cellphones. She describes it as “different, more friendly, more communicative, safer.”

Aoibheann calls into question the idea that social media fosters deeper connection, because she feels more isolated from her audience when they seek to upload aspects of her performances online, calling a certain social networking site “seemingly necessary but highly questionable.” It’s also fascinating that she frames the constant presence of cameras and recording devices as a breach of consent. Toward the end of her essay, Aoibheann says that “voyeurism has been brought beyond the indulgence of watching, to that of an abuse of bodily integrity via technology.” Her claims are bold, providing readers of Butcher Queers with food for thought regarding the relationship between performers, social media, and the physical audience.

Aoibheann creates spectacular new meaning out of the story of Narcissus—and this is something that I can always appreciate, no matter what kind of media I’m looking at. She reframes Narcissus’s selfishness as self-recognition, and names it as “a necessary stage in our burgeoning ability to love others,” while contrasting it with the photographers who “seem only to think of themselves.”

Toward the end of her essay, Aoibheann says, “So obsessed are we with documentation that the impact of the live moment has largely become secondary to the retrospective life it accumulates online.” She made me realize why some art galleries and performance venues do not allow photographs to be taken.

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Lauren (they/them) is a summer 2025 QZAP intern. They are an undergraduate student at Emory University studying creative writing and gender studies. They are Haitian-American, queer, and from rural Maryland. In their free time, Lauren writes various things, reads, does crossword puzzles, and cooks.