(**Some photos in this post are NSFW**)

To celebrate Marimacho’s Souvenir Collection, we took a trip to the beach.

Interview by: Alia Stavrand Woolf
Photos by: Sugi Salazar

Marimacho’s own Alia Stavrand Woolf and Sugi Salazar spent the day at Riis Beach in the Far Rockaways in Queens, New York to hear from folks about their experiences queering the beach. Gloria, Diane, Krystal, Dez, Heightz, Suri Bites, and Goldie Peacock break down with wit and insight how fashion and identity come together for them when they’re at the beach.

Gloria and Diane

 Photo: Sugi Salazar

What brings you to Riis?
Gloria: It’s my birthday weekend. Riis is welcoming. Being around my people, it makes me happy.

Tell me about what you’re wearing.
Diane: I like the colors, they’re bright. I like to make a statement.
Gloria: Diane picked my outfit. I’m picky. I like to be comfortable, as an androgynous female – I like to feel relaxed.

What is your shopping process like?
Gloria: I go in, grab what I like. I shop online. American Eagle. I shop wherever.

How does your gender shape your dress?
Diane: I like to feel comfortable, I want to be making a statement.
Gloria: I like to just be me.

What are the considerations you keep in mind putting a beach outfit together?
Gloria: She puts together my beach outfit. As long as we’re comfortable, other people don’t care here. That makes it cool. I remember being called marimacho by close-minded people in the DR. If you weren’t wearing a dress they’d call you a marimacho. Now I’m cool with who I am.

How does your approach to dressing for the beach differ from dressing for the street?
Gloria: I’m a fitted clothing/Converse kinda girl, down to earth.

How do you dress for Riis/queer beach space versus straight beach space?
Diane: I dress the same.
Gloria: I dress the same.

Tell me about your beach outfits over the last 10 years.
Gloria: It’s always been the same.
Diane: It’s varied a lot, depending on my weight.

If you could design any beach outfit for yourself, what would it be?
Gloria: The same as I’m wearing now.
Diane: Colorful, crazy, trendy. I’d like to stand out.

Dez and Krystal

 Photo: Sugi Salazar

What brings you to Riis?
Dez: It’s queer. I feel more comfortable.
Krystal: The community feels comfortable.

Tell me about what you’re wearing.
Krystal: I’m wearing the bottom half of an American Eagle 2-piece.
Dez: $10 Old Navy board shorts.

What is your shopping process like?
Krystal: I want quality but affordable that makes me feel comfortable. I consider myself femme – feminine but not constricting. I’m a Latina, family and society gendered me as feminine, though it doesn’t always make sense for me. I used to be high femme. It’s about finding, how do I feel comfortable?
Dez: I’m looking for stuff that’s gonna last but not leave a hole in my wallet, comfortable clothes.It should last so I can wear it again. I don’t like to show skin, I like to be covered. Blues and grays are good. I buy the same shirt in different colors.

How does your gender shape your dress?
Dez: I wear men’s clothes. I like them to be big but not too big – kinda fitted, like people to see my booty, kinda baggy – like Goldilocks, has to be just right.
Krystal: Fit. Like loose things. Mix tighter with looser. I don’t shop at Victoria’s Secret, they use prison labor and they discriminate. I try to have my politics match my shopping. American Eagle is having issues with trans workers. You can’t always do it but when you can you should.

What are the considerations you keep in mind putting a beach outfit together?
Krystal: It’s hot. I want to be as close to naked as possible. It’s so liberating – you want to free your whole body, not be constricted.
Dez: Masculine. Jeans, tshirts, usually I wear a bikini at the beach. I feel comfortable. I like to be cruised, but not catcalled or endangered.

How do you dress for Riis/queer beach space versus straight beach space?
Dez: I wouldn’t be topless at a straight beach. It depends on who I’m with. At Coney Island I’d keep my tank top on. I’d be more aware of who’d be around us. Being at Riis, surrounded by my community, I don’t feel judged. There is no anger or violence being directed at me. I like being around people who look different from me, and also people who look the same. I love to people watch and see the different shades, styles, and sizes. You don’t see people throwing shade here, it’s nice to get a break from that. It’s great to see people being themselves. It’s really comfortable. I wouldn’t be talking to a stranger at a regular beach without wearing a shirt.

Tell me about your beach outfits over the last 10 years.
Krystal: Traditionally – I’ve only been at Riis for three years – I would be more conservative, flip-flops, shorts, dresses, covering more skin. It hasn’t changed, but my comfort in my body has increased. I wear things here I couldn’t wear other places. This is a liberating experience.
Dez: Been at Riis for two or three years. I went from a one piece to a bikini. I’m from Massachusetts. Ten years ago I wasn’t out. Coming out, I was more honest about myself, now I’m not trying to fit any mold or archetype. It comes from being comfortable with myself, I can redefine things, wear bikinis and Timbs – not in the same outfit. I can bend what gender norms are – I can feel feminine in Nikes or a bikini.

If you could design any beach outfit for yourself, what would it be?
Krystal: Fantastic beach outfit would have lots of strings and buttons. It would be a swimsuit and a cover-up, go from bikini to board shorts.
Dez: So you want the Inspector Gadget of bathing suits?
Krystal: [Laughs.]
Dez: I’m looking for tight little shorts. I’m looking for a top that’s secure, like a sports bra’s security but shows skin like a bikini. I need security.
Krystal: Comfortability on the beach. We’re so policed to be a certain way – it wasn’t acceptable for me to shop for boys’ clothes. It would be great to see bathing suits to meet people’s needs whose gender isn’t how they were born or raised.

Heightz

Photo: Sugi Salazar

What brings you to Riis?
Heightz: This is my third time here. They called it a gay beach, so I came. I didn’t know it was a naked beach till I got here – I love it. I got no shame in my game.

Tell me about what you’re wearing.
Heightz: I’m only wearing boxers. I said why not, I’m already half naked. I love shades. I rock ‘em when I go out.

What is your shopping process like?
Heightz: I went to Modell’s. It was cheap and easy. That’s how I work.

How does your gender shape your dress?
Heightz: I love myself. I don’t care what people think. I know people thinking, what’s this AG doing with her shirt off? But I’m cool. I love purple, whatever I see in purple, I take it. I wanna look cute and sexy, as long as I have a shaper, jeans, a button-down, boots or sneakers. Going to the club I wear a tie, I gotta dress nice.

What are the considerations you keep in mind putting a beach outfit together?
Heightz: I can’t wait to go party, I gotta be ready.

How do you dress for Riis/queer beach space versus straight beach space?
Heightz: Same way. Straight beach, you’re not gonna change who I am. If you don’t like what you see, don’t look.

Tell me about your beach outfits over the last 10 years.
Heightz: I was dressing girly – now I wear trunks and a sports bra. Changing was so me. My mom was buying my clothes. Then I dressed up as a guy for Halloween in 2005. I was like, YES. From long hair to short hair, no tattoos to tattoos. I was quiet. Now I’m more open, I get involved with people, now I make them laugh.

If you could design any beach outfit for yourself, what would it be?
Heightz: I would be naked – but gayish, basically.

Goldie Peacock and Suri Bites

Photo: Suri Bites

What brings you to Riis?
Suri: I’ve been coming to Riis for 15 years. It’s a really cool queer space. You can wear what you want, no one bothers you. It’s become more queer. It used to be more gay. You can wear what you are.

What is your shopping process like?
Suri: Minimalism.
Goldie: I’m looking for legality.

How does your gender shape your dress?
Suri: For fun, if we had a kinky date, I might wear pink.
Goldie: I think our clothes are gender neutral.

What are the considerations you keep in mind putting a beach outfit together?
Suri: I want genderfuck beachwear.

How does your approach to dressing for the beach differ from dressing for the street?
Goldie: On the street I go for pockets and layers.
Suri: I don’t do bags.

How do you dress for Riis/queer beach space versus straight beach space?
Suri: I would wear a top to a straight beach.
Goldie: Same.

Tell me about your beach outfits over the last 10 years.
Goldie: I wear a black low slung gold lame bootyshorts, half-ass bootyshorts, black eyeliner, solar shields, a cowboy hat.
Suri: Just boyshorts. P-Style.

If you could design any beach outfit for yourself, what would it be?
Suri: It’s hard to find stuff that fits smaller people like me. I would want a vest.
Goldie: I want an unrestrictive waistband. And lots of pockets.

(The third entry into our Queering the Beach series, Julie from Manhattan, NY shares her experiences with bathing suits, femininity, and being young at the pool.)

I haven’t owned a bathing suit since I was thirteen years old.

When I was in middle school, we had swimming lessons. They started in the fourth grade, skipped a year, and ended in the sixth. I had loved swimming as a child, and loved being in a pool as much as I possibly could. The highlight of visiting my aunt in Florida was using her small pool every single day, floating in it as everyone else sweltered on the sidelines. I thought swimming lessons would be fun, but soon, I was dreading them.

We were marched up to the Asphalt Green every Tuesday and Friday, and, there, I mastered the art of changing out of my uniform and into my bathing suit without ever being even half naked. School shorts and underwear off under skirt, lower half of bathing suit on. Skirt off. Pull upper half of bathing suit up under shirt. Bring arms into shirt, pull up straps. Remove shirt. Presto.

Being eleven, twelve, thirteen and being a girl isn’t easy, especially when femininity doesn’t come naturally to you. I was only just beginning to feel uncomfortable with assertions of what fine young ladies we were growing up to be, and sitting so scantily clad on the side of a pool with fifty other young bodies was so strange to me. We were girls of every shape, color and size, yet I somehow felt like I was the only one who wanted to run away and hide.

I was a loner as a child. I had no siblings, and my closest cousin lived on another continent. I had few friends. When you swim alone, you have no one to compare yourself to. You can’t tell how wrong you are. I was in the absolute beginner’s class. I felt in every way an absolute beginner.

Out of uniform, in our individual bathing suits of all colors, suddenly we were individual people. I couldn’t help but start to feel every bit of my difference. I couldn’t hide amongst the uniforms.

I was never a feminine child. I liked to run after dogs and play with transforming action figures and build things. I liked computer games, and the closest thing I got to playing with makeup was washing and shampooing my stuffed dogs. I didn’t know what it meant to feel like a girl, and I could hide this behind my uniform skirt. I had to wear it. I was the same as all of my peers. I had to choose what to wear to swimming lessons.

The last time I wore a bathing suit was just before my thirteenth birthday. My cousin’s girlfriend took me swimming and shopping for the day. I idolized her—she was beautiful, with pale skin, dark hair, and blue eyes. She was skinny but wore huge, black leather boots that looked like they each weighed five pounds. When I told her I felt uncomfortable with myself she told me that I just had some puppy fat, that I’d grow out of it by the time I was as old as her, at the ripe old age of sixteen. I must have gotten rid of my last bathing suit, a threadbare black one piece shortly after that.

At almost twenty-two, I still have my ‘puppy fat.’ It’s only been in the last year or so that I’ve really begun to feel comfortable in myself. I left my uniformed high school and entered into college, floundering for two years with the prospect of dressing myself differently every day. After thirteen years of skirts, I steered away from dresses. The sight of me wearing anything feminine would draw comments from my friends.

I don’t feel any more feminine than I used to. I don’t know if I’ve ever felt feminine. But I’ve relearned to like dresses, and am relearning how to like skirts. I bought my first pair of shorts last summer, and bought a shorter pair this summer.

But the bathing suit question? It’s still a big thing for me. I still don’t think I’d feel comfortable wearing one. I envy my swimming friends, how at ease they are with their bodies and what they wear. I’m learning how to do it, but I still have miles to go.

(The second entry into our Queering the Beach series, Joy from Brooklyn, NY shares her thoughts on body acceptance, queer identity, and heteronormativity)

Let me just put it out there: I find it very, very difficult to be completely comfortable with my body. For one thing, I’m only five feet tall, and for another, I have double D’s. Although I read body acceptance literature religiously, there’s still a disconnect between the positive messages I understand and the negative ones I continue to absorb. And it’s not that I’m clueless as to the source of my discomfort—I know very well where it lies: my mother.

To begin with, my mother is naturally thin and fit. And, like me, she is also five feet and big-breasted. Although at 120 odd pounds I would not be considered overweight or unhealthy, I still feel an unsettling sense of inadequacy and ugliness due to my mother’s slimness. It’s difficult to reconcile my image of myself with the urge to be similarly thin and fit. This insecurity speaks to a bigger problem: on an average day, I would rather lose thirty pounds than happily accept myself as larger than a naturally thin person. And as a queer woman, self-acceptance is hugely important.

And yet, no matter how vehemently I fight for my right to be comfortable and beautiful at any size, my mother’s thinness provides an incessant reminder that I could be better—a better person, a better woman—if I only worked out or stopped eating bread or… the list goes on. It takes work to remember that fat isn’t a bad word; I often feel like a hideous giant when we stand together in a room. Of course, part of my insecurity is unfounded and internal. And part of it is a direct result of the snide comments and disapproving looks my mother gives me whenever we buy clothes or eat meals together. My mother’s body policing—both subtle and conspicuous, verbal and gestural—threatens to define my relationship with my own body and drags me further from my goal of self-acceptance. I suppose the root of my insecurity lies in ambivalence about more than just my weight; my inability to reconcile my feminist agenda with my body issues speaks of unresolved discomfort with my own queerness.

To be queer, for me, is to be political. Queerness is the conscious and deliberate rejection of heteronormativity, which includes, among other things, destructive standards that equate health and beauty with a slim physique. These standards are perpetuated by the media, which for the most part places a woman’s worth in her docile, obvious femininity, beginning from a young age. As someone who is neither feminine nor straight, I find it ridiculous and harmful to subscribe to heteronormativity. And yet, like so many others, I have been conditioned and socialized to view normality in terms of being straight and in fitting the code of ethics, conduct, and aesthetics that straightness assumes. I don’t want to exhaust myself by working to dismantle this code entirely; I just want to be accepted in a better world. I am radical in that I believe heteronormativity is socially constructed and that labels like gay and straight are redundant and exist solely because of homophobia, but I do not want my “radical” politics to become my main characteristic.

And yet, I’m also queer. In a heteronormative society where queer is seen as an insult, rather than an invitation, identifying in this manner requires a constant effort. If I want my sexual, spiritual, and gender identity to be recognized and taken seriously, I have to fight for that visibility and respect. Ideally, I would love for queer to be as assumed an identity as straight. Until then, I have to practice the politics of queerness beyond my interactions with partners.

I believe that part of being queer is being deliberate in your presentation, in carving out space where you can be entirely you. And that includes being unapologetic in your fatness, in choosing a bathing suit that proves you are a worthwhile human being no matter how big your stomach is—in fact, because of it.

Of course, rejecting established notions of normal behavior and dress for the sake of self-validation and queer politics is not easy. Nor is appearing on the beach in a fat body. And yet, they are inextricably linked. I feel most like myself when I wear a revealing bathing suit, despite my usually masculine street ware. If I can dare to be comfortable, even happy, in a two-piece, I will do it; that sense of unabashed pride is something I have acquired from being queer. It’s a consciousness that guides everything I do—when I make the radical decision to love my body, when I am forcefully and happily present on the beach, when I put on a pair of baggy men’s shorts over my swimsuit, I am empowered and I am beautiful, and not even my mother can tell me differently.

Marimacho sat down with Enrique Urueta, the award-winning comedic playwright bringing important and heated topics to the stage with tact, humor, and a queer perspective. In our exclusive video interview, we ask Urueta questions like “What does “queer fashion” mean to you?” and “What do you feel most comfortable in at the beach?”

The politics of ethnic and sexual identity are played with in Urueta’s “LEARN TO BE LATINA,” winner of the first national Great Gay Play Contest. Mercilessly off-color, the show offers a comedic take on cultural appropriation—and what makes a pop culture star.

Promotional shot from LEARN TO BE LATINA

Enrique Urueta is Marimacho’s third featured artist in our “Artists We Love” blog series at www.marimachobk.com

(The first entry into our Queering the Beach series, eve from Virginia Beach, Virginia shares her thoughts on beach bodies, family pressures, and the battle over body hair)

This summer will be the first summer I will keep my body hair. But not after sitting through my mother’s attempts to shame me back into a hairless body, sitting on the lounger by the pool on mother’s day while she pulled at the leg hairs by my ankle as if trying to rip them out, one by one, with her fingernails: “Oh come onnnn, doesn’t it hurt?” (No, well, not as much as you’re hurting my feelings.) It will also be the second summer I will have failed to resist the urge to restrict my eating for the sake of looking a certain way in my bathing suit, despite the amount of fat-positivity I reblog on Tumblr. I heard somewhere that Virginia Beach boasts the second highest rate of plastic surgery in the united states, and I’ve internalized its body ideals pretty well. Whether or not it’s true about our plastic surgery rates, you can get a pretty good idea of the kinds of pressure we all felt to control our bodies in certain ways, especially during beach season, and most especially in a town where locals put a premium on distancing themselves from unfashionable baggy-bathingsuited, water-shod tourists, sporting either an embarrassing amount of sunscreen or an even more embarrassing sunburn. Amateurs.

I’d let my leg hair grow over the winter in high school, more due to a mix of laziness and teenage punk rebellion than to any kind of feminist consciousness, and shorts season was never unaccompanied by the return of the razor. A few years of college feminism extended this cycle to my underarm hair as well, although it, too, fell victim to the razor come summertime, always preceded by the shameful wearing of cardigans, especially around family, to conceal my body hair from them. Even this year, when I’m determined not to compromise nearly a year’s worth of regrowth, facing family still requires sleeves.

Last summer, the first summer I was out as queer, my biggest challenge was figuring out a way to google bathing suits for dykes. The next biggest challenge was trying to get rid of my tan lines, and deciding whether or not to tweeze my bikini line after I had already given in to shaving. I settled that year for black boyshorts-style bikini bottoms that I could match with any top my tiny tits could fill, in theory, but I ended up just borrowing my sister’s skimpy bikinis all summer anyway, which fixed the problem of tan lines and also made the decision to tweeze an “inevitable” yes.

This is the year I will not give in to my mother’s fat-shaming and body hair bullying, not even for Camilla’s wedding god dammit. But to make up for this transgression, I feel extra pressure to at least force myself into a body that doesn’t bulge out of my bikini, although I see nothing wrong with it when it’s naked.

Hopefully next summer, it will be easier to be fat, hairy, queer and happy.

Our Super Boi Swim Brief has arrived to rescue you from gender conforming bathing bottoms. The Coney Island and Fire Island Swim Tops were designed with your desire for masculine style and coverage in mind. Our Aqua Boi Swim Brief will splash color into your summer. Perfectly fitted yet still relaxed, the Waikiki and Cabana Boi Vacation Shirts complete your summer look.

Marimacho’s Souvenir Collection is the first seasonal line to provide an alternative silhouette in bathing and beach wear for masculine identified individuals. Combating unflattering and baggy swim options, Marimacho continues to focus on fit in this six-piece collection. Pre-orders are now being received from our shop at www.marimachobk.com, and we are proud to announce size options ranging from XS to XXL.

Marimacho is looking for motivated, creative, self-sufficient, passionate, and stylish individuals to help us grow Marimacho’s social media presence, brand, and audience. Ideal candidates will be able to think quickly on their feet, produce content for our blogs and social media platforms, and take initiative without being overly directed. The small size of our company and non-hierarchical structure will allow you to participate in every aspect of our work, from filling orders off the web-site to helping at a pop-up store or runway show. This is an un-paid internship, but we will provide any information or help necessary in the process of receiving college credit.

Requirements:

• Must live in the NYC area and be willing and able to travel to Brooklyn (Bushwick/Bed-Stuy area)
• Available a minimum of 5 hours/week for in-office work, additional 5 hours/week for work independent of a Marimacho staff member = total 10 hours/week
• Must own a computer or a laptop and be comfortable using the social media platforms Facebook, Tumblr, Twitter, and Pinterest
• Strong writing and communication skills
• Available for July & August. Internship could be extended depending on intern’s fall schedule
• A command of Photoshop, Illustrator, or other design platforms a huge plus

Queer, trans*, intersex, gender non-conforming, two-spirit, lesbian, gay, bisexual People of Color are strongly encouraged to apply.

To apply:

1. E-mail laura@marimachobk.com with the subject line “YOUR NAME ‘s Internship Application”
2. Include your resume/CV and a cover letter in the BODY of the e-mail (NO ATTACHMENTS PLEASE)

Love,

the Marimacho team

Fifteen couples who have taken the plunge and legally tied the knot are profiled in this series, embodying what “courage, commitment and love are all about.”

Crystal and Ivette are the youngest couple to be featured! Check out all the fabulous couples and Crystal and Ivette’s profile at GOmag.com

My name is i n d e e (some people call me SirLady??) and I’m a gender-fucking-non-conforming-Queer-ass-faggy-motherfucking performing artist interested in creating original works about gender, identity and all things gay. I mostly do experimental dance and theater, but also dabble spoken word, storytelling, drag, costuming and other strange things. I hope to one day be cool enough to travel with a circus and/or make lots of beautiful dancing puppets. I see my performance as an act of activism, as a means to build community. I believe in the power of being true to your Self, the power of sharing and documenting our personal histories. I believe in freedom of expression. I believe in liberation. Most of all: “I have come to believe over and over again that what is most important to me must be verbalized and shared even at the expense of having it abused or misunderstood” -A. Lorde.

• What does “queer fashion” mean to you?

Queer fashion is innovation. It’s all about the transcendence of norms through wearing the clothes that look good on you, the clothes that make you feel most like you. It’s playful and creative and different for every Queer. It can’t be “bad,” only more original and unique.

• How would you describe your personal style?

My personal style is versatile to compliment the fluidity of my gender. Yet I can never go wrong with the three B’s: Belly Shirts, Bootie Shorts and Bowties.

• On average, how much thought do you put into getting dressed before public appearances?

Not too much thought, I mostly just wear what I feel like wearing at any given moment on any given day. The issue is that I sometimes have those days where I change my mind and end up getting (re)dressed like 6 times throughout the day. Luckily those days are rare.

• What do you feel most comfortable in at the beach?

Bootie Shorts and Bare feet. Maybe some sunglasses with my hair tied up in a hankie?

• What is the best compliment you’ve ever received?

A few weeks ago our car was acting funny while driving through some bumfuck town in Florida or Mississippi, so we stopped to get a mechanic to check it out. Right as we were about to get back into the car and leave, these two girls in matchy matchy pajama sets pull over and ask to take a picture with me because they had never seen anyone dressed like me in their town before. I was all hot and grumpy but after they went out of their way just to say hi and take take a picture I couldn’t say no.. so I just flicked off the camera instead.

• Do you have a fashion moment in your past that you would like to forget?

Oh. I have soo many. I used to really be into wearing bootcut and flared jeans that were a couple of sizes too small for me and that hung so low that my ass crack was constantly hanging out. I also went through a phase where I wore neon colored fishnets in shirt, stocking, and glove form, sometimes all three at once.

• Marimacho is… allowing your outside to reflect all the beauty that’s within.

______

Find indee & videos of them performing on FACEBOOK || VIMEO || TUMBLR

We’re doing some research for the upcoming Souvenir Collection and we want to hear from you about your DREAM BINDER. The Souvenir Collection includes BATHING SUITS and our goal is to offer a built-in binder option. We really need your input to make it happen!

Help us meet your needs- e-mail us your thoughts/gripes/hopes/dreams around bathing suits (mail to: laura@marimachobk.com)

What would your ideal binder do for you? What fabric would it be made out of?

email: laura@marimachobk.com