December Rot Spot Run Down
For weeks, I've been reflecting on what to write in this year's final newsletter. For some reason, I always place special significance on the beginning and end of things, and as 2024 comes to a close, I've been seeking the perfect words to share. In my personal life, as well as on a larger scale politically and globally, there have been many ups and downs throughout the past year. However, one constant that I keep coming back to throughout it all has been hope. Recently, I saw a quote that said, "I'm too stubborn not to have hope," and I deeply relate to this sentiment.
Sometimes, my unwavering hope surprises me, especially because I am someone who tends to catastrophize. In a lot of ways, it feels like anxiety is my default, and it can be easy to let fear overwhelm everything else, and the truth is there is a lot to be afraid of. I can't help but think that when I write my newsletter next month, Donald Trump will be back in office. Alongside that, there is an immeasurable amount of concerns, from the fear of losing LGBTQ+ rights to disintegrating public health and the worry of a potential bird flu pandemic looming to the threat of mass deportations and so much more. On a personal level, I know that this coming year is going to bring the loss of my terminally ill father, and the closer we inch toward that, the more devastated I become.
However, I'm making the conscious choice in the face of fear and grief to hold tightly to hope and the fact that despite seeing the worst in humanity broadcast in the news, I still have an unwavering belief in the goodness of people. One of my favorite lines of poetry is from New York Poem (For Polly) by Florence Welch. It reads, 'ever reaching, high as hope.' Almost every day in 2024, I recited the poem to myself as part of my morning routine, and throughout 2025, 'ever reaching, high as hope' will be my mantra for whatever comes my way.
I also want to take this moment of reflection to thank each and every person reading this. I feel so fortunate and grateful to have people who genuinely want to read what I have to say, from my monthly musings in my newsletter to LGBTQ+ history pieces and queer artist features. This Substack has grown far beyond my wildest imagination. This publication began simply because a piece I had been asked to write for a big publication didn't end up getting run, and I wanted to publish it somewhere. I didn't know what I was doing or what I even wanted The Rot Spot to be, but it has now become a project that I am deeply proud of. There are lots of exciting plans in store for The Rot Spot in 2025, and I am so thankful to have you alongside me on this journey.
There are a few Rot Spot Magazines available for purchase. In the spring a new edition will be coming out so pick up your copy of the 2023 magazine today before they’re no longer available!
The Mess by Anaïs and the Hoops
Hymn to Virgil by Hozier
Born To Be Alive by Bea and her Business
Delta by Mumford & Sons
Third Eye by Florence + The Machine
Dawns by Zach Bryan and Maggie Rogers
No Complaints by Noah Kahan
Falling - BBC Proms at the Royal Albert Hall by Florence + The Machine
Click here to listen to the full Rot Spot On Repeat playlist from 2024 :)
In the new year, I have an article coming out in a zine by my roommate, Ava Williams, who runs one of my favorite Substacks, 'From My Search Bar.' The piece explores music, especially the power of LGBTQ+ music, which we often celebrate on this Substack, given the many incredible musicians with whom I've had the opportunity to chat. As a little teaser for the full-length story, I wanted this month's queer history lesson to focus on LGBTQ+ music.
In the United States right now, it can be scary to be LGBTQ+, especially for trans folks. In states where legislation has been passed or is trying to be passed to limit queer rights, music is one way to connect, and in the face of struggle, it's a way to celebrate queer joy. Even if someone is in a tiny conservative town and doesn't know any other LGBTQ+ people, the moment they turn on queer music, they know they aren't alone.
LGBTQ+ music isn't a new phenomenon—though eras past had to be more subtle about their queer references. One such song is the 1963 song, Dina and Petrina, by Barbara Lynn—this sapphic song is about the couple, Dina and Petrina. As the song says, "Where there's one there's the other." However, "they'll go no further." In 1958, Jimmie Rodgers released Secretly, which has the lyrics, "Wish we didn't have to meet secretly/Wish we didn't have to kiss secretly/Wish we didn't have to be afraid/To show the world that we're in love/Till we have the right to meet openly/Till we have the right to kiss openly/We'll just have to be content to be in love secretly." These are just two examples of many in a rich history of LGBTQ+ music.
Today and throughout history, LGBTQ+ music has the ability to unite people through generations. Regardless of location, it's a way to celebrate queer joy and a way to unite together in the face of struggle.
When the Feds Are Still Watching
Alabama profits off prisoners who work at McDonald’s but deems them too dangerous for parole
America’s Bird-Flu Luck Has Officially Run Out
Musk’s conflicts of interest as Trump adviser could benefit him, experts warn
“I’ve had Brita filters longer than their engagement.”
“I don’t think you had a goal in mind when you started talking.”
“I wish I could sleep from the ceiling like a bat.”
“We need to manifest that there is snow this winter.”
The New York World, New York, March 8 1898
