Matthew 'Call Me Swishmale' Greenfield

Gone Fishing is probably the most tender song in my entire catalog. I wrote it with only love and respect in my heart. I strongly identified with the drag queens and kings of Paris Is Burning because I too was abandoned at a very young age and found my way through in flamboyant dress, immersing myself in an underground music scene alongside a chosen family of fellow misfits. Together we created a world. Some of us flourished. Some of us did not. It is purposely not a dance track. To me that would have felt like too much of a commercial grab for such a sincere tribute. Those who now try to turn this tenderness against me do not understand how much I cared then, and how much I still care about these people. The truth is that in today’s climate many of these wonderful performers and artists, who started life with the odds stacked against them, would have fared even worse. Many would have been drugged and operated on at a young age and left without the energy and vitality necessary to leave the miraculous and transcendent mark on history that they did. Now, as then, I refuse to take the easy route of pandering to anyone or anything for the sake of my career. My principles give me clear sight, and when I see a wrong I call it. Perhaps years of fighting can twist people. So can the arrival of those who had no part in creating what was transcendent, yet entered hungry for it, with nothing but a sense of entitlement and grievance to give. It may well be a bit of both. Either way, it is a tragedy to witness, and I am a witness. It is true that many of my fellow TERFs have little sensitivity to the roots of the scene that likely spawned the very thing they now fight. I wish that were not so. I would urge them all to watch Paris Is Burning with an open heart and mind. Over the years I have welcomed everyone to my shows with a tender open heart. Until recently I never imagined any fan would expect me to bend under pressure to subjugate my own ethics. I will not accept that, nor will I welcome it. That does not mean I have no empathy. I do. I carry a great sadness for the missing ones, most of whom are not inherently bad people. But I can only give love to those capable of returning it in kind, and who do not wish to control or coerce me. I do think they have thrown away a real one: an artist who will never fake it or pretend in order to take their money. With me it will always be tender and sincere. I will still be here if they ever miss that, and if they ever come to value artistry that refuses insincerity and lies.