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the home of Christine McConnell is a metaphorical safe space for queer people deemed too odd for the ‘normal’ world outside.
The Curious Creations of Christine McConnell invites a queer reading for its rhetoric of self-made and chosen families. The show reminds us that biology does not determine a family any more than family determines biology – anything and everything can be reimagined, redesigned, or recreated (including tropes of motherhood itself). Indeed, whether an old sofa or a dead cat, resurrection is McConnell’s speciality; as her name implies, Christine is a Christ-like figure, but with none of the fire and brimstone that queer people constantly have to look over their shoulder for.
I can’t tell who is a woman or who is a man anymore.
Just as a sidenote; it WOULD be actually pretty difficult to distinquish women from men and vice versa, if people didn't DELIBERATELY exaggarate their bodily qualities
In the end, all this begs the question; why should that matter, really?