My Ex-Girlfriend

June 29, 2021

Maddy Court (a.k.a. Xena Worrier Princess) is widely known for creating and sharing “niche lēsbian content” to hundreds of thousands of followers on Instagram. However — like a modern-day Carrie Bradshaw who favors Doc Martens over Jimmy Choo’s — the self-proclaimed ‘meme artist’ doubles as a queer advice columnist.

While she’s been sharing personal insight through a series of newsletters and zines for a few years now, her new book “The Ex-Girlfriend of My Ex-Girlfriend Is My Girlfriend” was released last month. Illustrated by comics artist Kelsey Wroten, the “new go-to queer relationship handbook” tackles everything from love and friendship to coming out and heartbreak.

In response to anonymous queries from lesbian, bisexual, and queer women and people of marginalized genders, the sometimes silly yet always sincere guidance reflects individual tales of dating dilemmas and tips for navigating the ever-evolving LGBTQ+ journey.

Interview by Megan Hein
Illustrations courtesy of Kelsey Wroten

So if you’re feeling lost and need some direction or simply looking for a laugh, lend an afternoon to “The Ex-Girlfriend of My Ex-Girlfriend Is My Girlfriend.” Read our exclusive interview with Court and Wroten below.

Check out more of Maddy Court and the book here.

Can you tell us a little about your backstory? How did you two meet?

Maddy — We met on Instagram, where else? We became friends in the DMs and then Kelsey ended up illustrating a story I wrote. Cannonball is one of my favorite graphic novels and I tell everyone to read it. We had lots of small overlaps, but we've only met in person a handful of times.

Kesley — Maddy basically covered this one. I think becoming mutuals online is the first step to friendship/any relationship these days. A few years ago, saying something like ‘we've only met in person a few times’ might mean you don't know someone. But there are lots of fully electronic interactions, especially in the last year, that shouldn't be judged as less-than — especially when you consider how small communities can be or how many people do long-distance relationships and friendships. Human connection is hard! See *entire book*. Also, I'm shy! So I have a vested interest in digital interaction.

What was the process like while creating this book? Did you two always agree on the advice given? How does that dynamic work?

Maddy — Kelsey made all the artwork and I wrote all the text. We aren't the most active collaborators, though we did choose the guest experts together. We also went through all the question submissions in one long, 5-hour phone call. It was really helpful to have Kelsey as a sounding board, though she chose a lot of questions because they sounded fun to illustrate. When I'm picking questions, I look for questions that are genuine and interesting to read. I need the situation to congeal and make sense. Kelsey just likes dyke drama.

Kesley — I totally trust Maddy's chops when she gives advice. She's top-notch at it. No comment on me loving drama that doesn't involve me. We ended up choosing questions that were crucial, and/or repeated. We had several hundred submissions, and in addition to finding questions that got to the core of a quintessential issue, we gravitated towards those that were asked a lot of times in a lot of different ways. Everyone is trying to tapdance in a minefield of other people's expectations. Maddy was always great at getting to the core of what was really going on.

Why do you feel it was crucial to make a “queer relationship handbook” for women and people of marginalized genders in 2021?

Maddy — Crucial is a heavy word for my work. I want the things I make to be human and joyful. My dream for ‘Ex-Girlfriend’ was for it to be a book that would sit with you and keep you company, as corny as that sounds.

Kesley — I agree with Maddy here. Our goal was to make something fun and sincere and heartwarming. A warm blanket book, and one that can be shared with friends. A friend of mine said they brought a copy with them to the beach and everyone took turns reading from it. Lots of enjoyable commiserating and tales of regrettable exes were shared. This was how I experienced Maddy's zine for the first time too. At a friend's house, leisurely reading aloud one afternoon.

What was important to consider while capturing the distinct yet widely diverse lesbian aesthetic through your illustrations?

Kesley — I love the idea of me capturing a "lesbian aesthetic." Contrary to that one episode of ‘The L Word’ where they scope out Lara the 'soup chef' for Dana, there isn't one way to look like a lesbian. Lesbians are diverse, so I wanted to reflect that in my drawings. Though I did want to include some tongue-in-cheek references to lesbian paraphernalia, especially in the doodles on the cover. Docs, mullets, chapstick. I also included some references to Maddy's memes — most notably her ‘old sea dyke’ possum and Himalayan salt lamps. To play devil's advocate with myself, there can be a component of sartorial signaling in the way queer people dress, so I don't want to completely dismiss ‘lesbian aesthetic’ as being a very important thing that does exist and will continue to exist and evolve. An interesting opinion piece in the NYT I came across a while back talked about the difficulty of parsing signals in fashion right now. It was called something like ‘Hipsters Broke My Gaydar’ with a great little illustration by Sophia Foster-Dimino, another queer illustrator whose work has influenced me a lot.

As a self-proclaimed ‘meme artist’ with an Instagram account dedicated to niche lēsbian content, how have you seen social media impact the way queer people interact and express themselves?

Maddy — Social media is an accessible and easy way to share parts of yourself. I believe the internet enables real community building and love. At the same time, there's also a lot of censorship and shadowbanning that particularly affects people of color, sex workers, and activists. I'm often depressed by how people treat each other online. Social media is bleak, but there are some rays of light.

Growing up, what did you look to for queer female representation?

Maddy — Growing up, I liked Tamora Pierce books and Tegan and Sara. I wasn't actively looking for queer representation, though. I didn't identify as gay in high school, I'm not even sure I knew what a lesbian was. I didn't have my own computer and this was before smartphones, so I was pretty limited in my research. There was a boy at my high school — I'm not sure if he was openly gay or not, but he was definitely flamboyant and I remember feeling so afraid for him all the time. I was really isolated from queerness and the world until I went away to college.

Kesley — Like Maddy, I came out ‘late’ a few months after I graduated high school. I am also from the Midwest, so it simply wasn't talked about. There were a few kids I grew up with that were gossiped about as she mentioned. But that was it. Years later, while having drinks with a couple of popular kids from high school who came out post-grad, I found out I was one of those kids! Which I found extremely flattering, though if I had known at the time, I probably would have been mortified. I'm so glad times have changed in this regard. Also, it's interesting how subtly vibes register because I wasn't even aware. Then, one fateful day, I rented ‘Chicago’ with my cousin. BOOM! Life-altering. As far as media I sought out in my late teens when I was starting to suspect I might be gay, I turned to none other than ‘Xena’ and ‘Buffy.’ Both of which I make required viewing for anyone to date me. Which makes me… single. Oh! And a movie I used to watch almost every night before bed — and thus fell asleep to its DVD menu music — was ‘D.E.B.S’ directed and written by Angela Robinson. She directed/wrote/produced several episodes. of ‘The L Word’ as well.

What other media have you been into lately? Have you been watching ‘The L Word’ reboot?

Maddy — Is there a new season? It's weird that you asked this. A few nights ago I couldn't sleep because I was thinking about the scene where Shane describes the baby's heartbeat as horses running across the beach. It's such an inexplicable, confusing thing to say and everyone acts like it's so beautiful and profound. Also, the scene when Alice loses her mind and becomes verbally abusive at a staff meeting because Kamala Harris turned down a spot on her show. I just finished ‘Hacks’ on HBO and rewatched the first episode immediately. I love Desiree Akhavan's work. I read a lot of fiction and I loved ‘Detransition, Baby’ by Torrey Peters and ‘Real Life’ by Brandon Taylor. My friend Carrot Quinn has a memoir coming out called ‘The Sunset Route’ and I read it in two sittings.

Kesley — I watched the first season of the reboot, but I fell off. However, I'm an avid watcher of any movie in which a lesbian has at least one line. I have a list on Letterboxed if you want it. It's about 377 movies long, all of which I've seen. Some are great, most are absolute garbage. I'd call it a hobby, but I think it crossed that line a long time ago.

My girlfriend read your zine a few years ago and said that you helped her ‘realize that lesbians weren’t actually extinct.’ What do you have to say to young/newer lesbians who may now be discovering themselves through your work?

Maddy — That's so wonderful to hear. Cheers to your girlfriend! My best advice is to stay away from people who are uncomfortable with your joy and evolution. Same with people who want to pigeonhole you into one role. Always keep ‘em guessing. Also, you don't have to relate to anyone on ‘The L Word.’ Oh and don't fight with people online! It's never worth it.

Kesley — Haha, yeah, I think what that can be interpreted as is the word evolving. And how we choose to relate to it. Lesbian is a living word. It is growing and changing and becoming all the time. For instance, recently I've been exploring my gender identity and how I want to express it. I feel most comfortable with the pronouns they/she, and am fluid in my identification/expression of them depending on the day. So either, as a general rule, works for me. In the past not being in a strict 'woman+woman' relationship exempted you from using the word lesbian. That's just dumb and not true anymore. Obviously, lesbian means ‘from Lesbos’ if we use the most strict definition. Lots of people like ‘sapphic’ too with the same origin narrative. This is all to say, it's a symbolic 'from Lesbos' so it was always about applied meaning more than its literal interpretation. I really like the word personally, but I won't dump on anyone who doesn't.

Culture

Mowalola x Miss Sixty Launch with H. Lorenzo

I swing my legs over the ropes that guard the VIP entrance. Always over (I’m 5’10), never under. I’m late to the H. Lorenzo x Mowalola event, and the line is wrapped around the block. I don’t want to be an asshole, but I hate waiting in lines; it just ruins everything.

“Hey, my friend is DJing right now. My name should be down,” I say.

The youngish security guard looks me up and down. I have made an adventurous choice for this type of crowd. Neon pink hoodie, bright orange vest, my Raimundo jeans, and Jeremy Scott animal print sneakers. I let him take me in and look over his shoulder. Hmmm… I will be swathed in darkness when he lets me in. Dark night, dark clothes, dark makeup, furs, hoods, leather accessories, and sunglasses. I don’t recognize anyone, but it’s hard to tell who anyone is because I can’t see after 8 pm without my glasses. Night blindness. I can still catch a vibe though.

“She’s in the bathroom,” Mr. Guard says, interrupting my squinting.

“Who?,” I ask.

“The woman in charge of the list.”

That’s a drag. I want to dance. Lately, I am going out in the name of music.

“So…can I go in?” I ask.

“Just wait for her to get back.”

That sounded fine. I wait. The outdoor smoking area is packed. I imagine the inside to be a mirror of this, hopefully with people dancing instead of blowing smoke in each other’s eyes.

“You got instagram?” The guard asks me after about ten minutes of flirting.

“Can I go in?” I said.

He laughs. He lets me in the event without a wristband.

Inside, I understand why the other guard was gone for so long. I made a mental note to not drink too much liquid, the bathroom line is almost as long as the line outside. The party is popping, far from a flop.

I push through the crowd solo, following the speakers to the DJ booth. The immersive visuals provided me with enough light to make out Mowalola in a gold bikini and her low rise denim. My pulse races like the horse printed on the front of her coochie. That’s the point of the collection, obviously.

My hips swing around before I head towards the open bar. I smile to myself, noting that it’s a mezcal forward menu. I see a drink that disgusts me so I order it without hesitation. It’s a mezcal coffee concoction. My heart ’s ran through already, why not go all in? I head back to dance when I hear Shigecki’s set start. I’m jumping around, sweating, and when I pause for a beat I let out a yelp. There are strippers working poles opposite and behind the DJ booth. Good. Events should be sexy.

I end the night smoking my friend’s Korean strawberry cigarettes taking in the air of cool- when a man comes up to me wild-eyed exclaiming that we look just like one another. I look at him- no, not at all. I turn slowly, remembering what I should be doing: listening to DJ G2G’s set. Back inside, she is playing reggaeton type beats with lasers beaming out of her headphones (I want these). A rave in it of herself.

Too bad all the events end at 2 am in LA.

Culture

Vans Pipe Masters 2024

On the first night, Steve Van Doren and the Vans team hosted the heat draw for the competitors at a casual backyard barbecue. The son of Vans’ co-founder Paul Van Doren, Steve has worked in the family business for decades, and is now known as the Ambassador of Fun. Wearing a Hawaiian shirt and a cowboy hat made out of old shoes, he was definitely dressed for the part. The surfers, along with family and friends gathered in a relaxed setting as 40 men’s and 20 women’s names were drawn from a shoebox. The competition would run in 3 rounds, the top 4 men and 4 women with the highest scores moving onto the finals. When asked about their strategies, most gave answers along the lines of “get waves.” Refreshingly simple.

After waiting a few days for favorable conditions, the first day of competition kicked off with Women’s Round 1. It was finally time to see Pipeline in action. Banzai Pipeline is known as one of the most dangerous places to surf due to the powerful waves breaking over shallow and sharp reefs. With the potential to crash into the rocky edges or have leashes caught in caves, it takes a ton of skill–-and even more courage–to surf here. No stranger to these risks, the first heat included favorites Caity Simmers and “Queen of Pipeline” Moana Jones Wong, who showed off exactly why they’d been successful here in the past. Midway through the heats, Mother Nature decided to throw in another element as a light drizzle turned into a proper downpour. Rain or shine, the athletes went out unfazed, focused on getting their first points on the board.

After another short day’s break, the competition continued with the women’s second round and the men’s first. The beach was filled with spectators, locals and tourists alike, as the competition was free for all to attend. While fans rooted equally for the women and men, the most popular were the local Hawaiian athletes, which made up about half the competition. The women started off the day again, hyping up the crowd with incredible rides. One ride by Bettylou Sakura Johnson earned the first Bag of Cash of the day– a cash prize (of undisclosed amount) awarded in a brown paper bag to any surfer that pulls off a wow moment, excites the crowd, and pulls off something spectacular regardless of what the conditions might look like.

Winds picked up as the men’s competition began and two strategies quickly emerged: an aggressive approach, targeting any decent waves to build small scores; and a patient approach, waiting for the perfect wave to chase a high single score. Even the waves that were unrideable were a spectacle in itself. The sheer size, illustrated by the length of surfboards riding up and over, and the following crash of white water spray was hypnotizing. Then imagining having to experience it out on the water, duck diving under or being lifted over, brought a renewed respect for the surfers.

After watching these early rounds, it was time for office to head back to the cold. With the competition officially spanning from December 8-20, it seemed the forecast was gearing up for some massive waves— and it didn’t disappoint. Following from afar through Vans’ Instagram and live updates, we saw the full extent of what it means to surf at Pipeline. After a series of electrifying and daring surfs, the 2024 winners were crowned: Erin Brooks and Nathan Florence.

The thrill of watching top athletes compete at the highest level of their sport, even remotely, never fails to inspire. Few sports surrender so completely to the forces of nature as surfing does. And at its core, surfing is all about having a deep respect for the ocean—its unpredictable whims, its immense power, and its ever-changing moods.

Culture

The Cost of Queendom

December 17, 2024

One summer afternoon in New York, a few days after their New York premiere of the acclaimed documentary Queendom, office met up with documentary filmmaker Agniia Galdanova and producer Igor Myakotin at a tattoo parlor on the west side of Manhattan. While Agniia received a tattoo of the portmanteau “DOCU CUNT” across her fists, she — unfazed by the needle on her knuckles — answered our questions alongside Igor about the making of the stirring story that has traveled around the world.

One of the opening scenes of Queendom depicts a ritual many of us are all too familiar with in the 21st century. Jenna Marvin, the documentary film’s central subject, takes her friend along with her to take photos for Instagram. When she finds a suitable backdrop, she poses, poses, poses, and then reviews the photos. Dissatisfied, she gives her notes, and then returns to pose, pose, pose again.

By Brook Aster
Photos by Liv Solomon

The ritual may be familiar, but nothing else about the scene — from its setting to its stakes — is ordinary. The backdrop behind Jenna is a sweeping expanse of ice and snow in a small Russian port town called Magadan. Jenna is dressed in drag, but not drag of the Rupaul’s Drag Race variety; her drag has been referred to as “creature drag.” Her signature white face paint, platform heels and surrealist costumes, with their exaggerated sculptural proportions and use of duct tape and repurposed items, catches the ire of her neighbors and the love of online admirers alike. Jenna eventually accrued a following on social media for her public and technically illegal drag performances, which often involved little more than her walking or being in public spaces but nevertheless were often met with abuse and threats of imprisonment.

But when Agniia first encountered Jenna, she hadn’t yet reached the level of virality that would eventually come in the years to follow. The filmmaker was researching different drag performers in Russia for her sophomore project, which she thought would be a docuseries, when she heard from a friend about a young drag queen from Magadan. “I was like, this is impossible. I have to meet this person,” Agniia remembers. “And I could not actually go meet her because I was in Moscow and she was in Saint Petersburg, so I sent a friend of mine with whom I’d been studying with in film school, and she went and filmed the sample.” The simple video, showing Jenna and her friend getting dressed up for a party, struck something in Agniia. The drag was an earlier, more prototypical version of the style Jenna is now known for; less duct tape and ornamentation, but still that signature striking makeup. “Something sparked. I knew I just had to stick to this feeling,” Agniia says. She decided to turn the docuseries into a documentary solely focused on Jenna.

Around that time, the entire world came to a grinding halt: the onset of COVID-19 pandemic had just led to lockdowns around the globe. With only a couple thousand followers on social media at that point in time, Jenna had tried to branch out and connect with other drag artists in Moscow and Saint Petersburg, but faced rejection; her drag was extremely unconventional, and not even other drag artists quite understood it. “I think we found each other at the right moment, because nobody knew what to do, how to cope with all this,” Agniia says. “Jenna was saying that she was lost, and she also didn't know how to develop her art next.”

Unlike some of the other artists Agniia had initially researched, Jenna didn’t need much convincing to allow the camera into her life. “[Especially] after COVID came, there wasn't really [any] drag in my life,” Jenna recounts when I speak to her later over Zoom. “I realized that what drag is for me is not just a costume, a dress, something that you leave, that you take off and then in the dead of the night you put back on. Later, I understood that this is who I am, that I am art and I am drag, and that this is way bigger and more important than just clothing or costume.”

[LEFT TO RIGHT: Agniia Galdanova, Jenna Marvin, Igor Myakotin]

When it came time to move into production stages, Agniia sent a clip to Igor, who had been referred to her by a past colleague. When Igor saw the footage, he was similarly struck by Jenna — and even more struck to find out she shared his small hometown of Magadan. “It was just so fateful to know that I also come from this town, and I've never seen it through this cinematic lens, through the vision that Agniia has,” he says. “I was mesmerized by the footage, mesmerized by Jenna. I thought to myself, I have to do everything I can [for us] to work together, whatever the collaboration is gonna be.”

The two followed Jenna for over three years; Agniia first relocated to St. Petersburg, where Jenna had taken up residence after leaving her grandparents’ home in Magadan, and later Jenna moved in with Agniia in her home in Moscow. All the while, Igor and his team worked remotely from the United States to meet Agniia’s production needs. Inevitably, with all their time spent together, Agniia and Jenna became close.

“There is an unspoken rule in documentary filmmaking that you have to keep this line, and you can’t overcome certain boundaries,” Agniia explains. “In my first film, it was not an easy subject [to do this with] as well. I was following a family for seven months, and [we became] close, but I always was trying to keep my distance, and was constantly thinking about it. How much should I say? How much should I give?” But as she got to know Jenna, it became clear that this time, that distance wouldn’t be possible. “With Jenna almost from the very beginning, I was like, fuck it. That’s not going to work with this one. I'm going to break this rule 100%. I never regretted it, because that's actually what built up the trust that is there.”

As Jenna's public performances continued and began to garner more public attention, her online audience multiplied. Among her virtual admirers was French fashion maven Michèle Lamy, who would eventually sign onto Queendom as an executive producer. Lamy's discovery of Jenna led to an invitation to walk in the Rick Owens show in Paris — her first time modeling, and her first time leaving Russia in her life. Of course, Agniia and her camera followed. But most of their excursions were not so glamorous; many of Jenna's performances shown in the documentary were undertaken at a real risk to her physical safety, and by extension, to the safety of Agniia. But neither of them were daunted.

I remember who I am. And this is what carries me through this life.

After all, Jenna was used to both taking risks and documenting them well before she was the subject of a film; she and her friends long filmed the often impassioned, sometimes violent reactions of strangers and policemen to their mere existence in public spaces in drag. And after a protest performance in which she wrapped herself in the Russian flag, Jenna was kicked out of beauty school, her last attempt at a practical route before pursuing her drag as a full time venture.

The only time Agniia tried to dissuade her was on Paratrooper’s Day, a Russian military holiday often characterized by the drunk soldiers roaming the streets. The risk for violence was especially high. “On Paratroopers Day, people say you can't come out in skinny jeans or with nail polish,” Jenna describes. “[I think] you should do the opposite. You should really make a statement and come out wearing what you want to wear. I think that clothes, what we wear, is really at some point beyond our psyche, our mind, our understanding. It is as if it's a certain kind of spice that is enticing you and you follow the scent of that spice and you don't see anything else except that scent and you follow it. That's how I see it.”

“I was like, ‘girl, maybe we should not do that,’” Agniia says. “Igor was stressing out and she told us, ‘well, you don't need to follow me. I'm gonna go and do it. I don't care if you're coming or not.’” In the end, Jenna ventured out for her performance anyway, protesting the then-recent invasion of Ukraine. Agniia followed. Not shown in the film is that the two were arrested, and managed to talk the police out of their arrest.

Not too long after, she would have to leave Russia again, this time moving for Paris for good; the film follows her struggles to get a visa in time to leave the country after the onset of the war. “It's already been three years that I've been in France, and it is important for me to understand and remember who I am, and to remember that pain, those moments when we were back in Russia doing drag, fighting with the police and law enforcement,” Jenna says. “It is important that this resistance continues and that those voices are not being silenced. Yes, here there’s much more freedom, there are pride parades and queer people can get married, but this is an illusion because there are also places where you cannot get married and you cannot enjoy the same freedoms. I cling to who I am, who I was from the very beginning. I remember who I am. And this is what carries me through this life.”

“Meeting Jenna gave me hope for the future of the country, because governments come and go, people in power come and go, but the generations change at the same time,” Igor says. “So it warms my heart to see that someone like her came from somewhere like that. If I saw her back then at a similar age, it would be even more personal. I think I would’ve accepted myself as gay quicker, and I wouldn't be nervous or closed and not open to the world or myself… Working with this project also meant that we were amplifying the voices of many, many people who couldn't speak like Jenna could.”

For Agniia, the honor of telling Jenna's story is only paralleled by the honor of having her in her life. “We found each other,” Agniia says. “And what I learned from Jenna is so precious; about life, about art, about surviving. And I appreciate it a lot. This film grew so much larger than just a documentary, because I have a family now, a working family.”

Queendom is now available to stream on Apple TV.