John Waters is Exactly the Activist We Need

The outrageous auteur and Burger Boogaloo mainstay tells us what's missing from grassroots politics

Ever since his transgressive midnight-movie classic Pink Flamingos invaded cinemas in 1972, John Waters has been a messiah for outsiders, fabulous freaks and glorious weirdos of every stripe.

Over the course of his career Waters, with the help of his decidedly left-of-center collaborators and acolytes, has made the improbable leap from proudly profane filmmaker to mainstream(ish) national treasure on the strength of films like the 1990 Johnny Depp vehicle Crybaby and 1988’s Hairspray, which was adapted into a Tony-winning musical in 2003 and remade for the screen later that decade.

Waters hasn’t released a film since 2004’s A Dirty Shame, but he’s stayed plenty busy in the interim via his books, art, public events and relatively newfound status as an advice-dispensing elder statesman. The outspoken veteran of the Civil Rights and Stonewall eras hopes today’s activists will harness the “theatrical militancy” of Abbie Hoffman’s Yippies, who used counterculture absurdity to protest—and laugh at—the world’s injustices.

This weekend the 73-years-young Waters is hosting the Burger Boogaloo for the fifth consecutive year, and in May he released his seventh book of prose, Mr. Know-It-All: The Tarnished Wisdom of a Filth Elder, a tome filled lessons gleaned from his remarkable time on this earth (including a section on civil disobedience entitled “Act Bad” that we ran in our Spring issue). In the spirit of acting bad, we spoke with the Playboy subscriber of 40 years—“Clearly," he tells us, "I’m one of those people who read the articles”—about his influence on this generation of activists, the Yippies, the Democratic candidates for president, taking LSD after 70, whether Divine was camp or punk, political correctness and a lot more.
I’m wondering if you’re aware of the influence you’ve had on this generation of activists. The modern protest scene is very queer; I’ve seen Divine tattoos on black bloc members of antifa, for instance.
What was great was during Occupy Baltimore—they built a version of Mortville, the town of outcasts from Desperate Living. And Occupy Baltimore really was kind of like Mortville, so it was really flattering to see the younger generation of activists referencing something from one of my movies.

When Milo Yiannopoulos was peddling his “Dangerous Faggot” schtick, I saw a protest sign that had a picture of you rolling your eyes. In glitter it said, “An actually dangerous faggot.”
Oh, that is just lovely. I wish I’d seen that. He is extremely disagreeable—but I definitely think he should be allowed to speak. I’m against stopping anyone from speaking. Even when we have to put up with the worst extremes of freedom of speech, I think we have to. The same goes for the worst pornography—we have to put up with these extremes so that we can have freedom. But I don’t think he’s any gay Abbie Hoffman, believe me. Andrew Breitbart actually told me once he was inspired by the Yippies and their tactics; he was just using them for the other side. The people that took over after him don’t have the same panache though. They’re just assholes.

You’ve talked about the need to reach the Trump supporters with laughter and acceptance.
You can’t continue to just make the enemy feel stupid. You have to make them feel smart enough that they would consider changing their ideas. You don’t change people’s minds by making them feel inferior. And look, I think I’m politically correct. People gag when I say that, but I actually do. At the same time though, the most extreme political correctness just makes people vote for Trump. It makes them feel stupid and it makes them feel angry at things that are not really the most important things in the world now. A lot of it is too much—I’m not talking about something like #MeToo here—but you read some of this stuff you wonder if it’s The Onion

I thought it was so funny when PETA said you can’t say “There’s more than one way to skin a cat” anymore. There’s all these terms they’re saying you can’t say anymore because they’re cruel to animals. I found that hilarious and that doesn’t bother me. But other people read it and really take it at face value and it makes them so angry that they become reactionary.
Look, I think I’m politically correct. People gag when I say that, but I actually do.
I grew up in the South, and there are people I don’t agree with but am close to. You can’t lecture them if they don’t know——
Well it’s just different, what they know. I’m friendly with people I don’t agree with. When did that stop?

Is it the internet? Is it Trump?
Well yes, but sometimes liberals can be fascist, too, if they only think you can think one way. They sometimes never even imagine someone might think differently.

I’ve had artsy people tell me the country would be so much better without conservatives and it’s like, What? If we were a country of only poets we’d get invaded tomorrow.
Yeah! I don’t hate all the rich people—they back movies and buy art. [laughs]

What do you see that’s working? You talk in the book about the joy the Yippies brought to being radical.
I mention in the book that I don’t understand why anyone’s in school studying and why they aren’t out marching. It was so great when all the honor roll kids walked out last year—because it used to be only the bad kids—but why did they stop? Back in the day it was the bad kids that walked out for protests and nobody cared. It seems to me like we should use the Yippies example like they did in London for the Anti-Pope March and Baby Trump blimp, and the big Trump Rat in NYC. That kind of theatrical militancy works, and I feel that this is the perfect time for it—and we better get busy, because I’m very pessimistic about this election.
None of the Democratic candidates do it for you?
Well Biden, he’s like voting for Hubert Humphrey. I’d vote for any of them over Trump obviously—but I mean, he'd [Biden] pat Anita Hill on the fanny! [laughs] I’m afraid he’ll make more mistakes as we go along. I think they all have weaknesses though. I wish they’d have a meeting now and decide on only three or four of them running, because they’re going to ruin each other by debating ridiculous things like "Should the Boston bomber be allowed to vote?" I mean, come on. That kind of stuff is just going to make people vote Trump. I do think parolees should all be allowed to vote, however. That’s why I’m against Kamala Harris, because she was very, very anti-prisoners’ rights. But I’d still vote for her over Trump of course. Even though he had Kim Kardashian getting him to let certain drug conviction people out, which I think is good. 

What a strange thing.
Who would have ever thought that Kim Kardashian would do prison reform work? I actually know somebody in the prison she visited and they said she was lovely. Dressed appropriately and everything. 

One of the more talked about sections of the book is bound to be your LSD trip at 70-plus years. What do you think of the prevalence of microdosing? I’m of the belief that you shouldn’t be allowed to microdose until you’ve macrodosed. 
Yes! Well to me, microdosing is the pussy way out. The thing is, I didn’t do it to perk up my creativity at work; I did it to see what an experience that was always good for me when I was young—I’ve never had a drug problem and was always an enthusiast, but I just sort of stopped—would be like now that I’m older. It’s like my version of The Big Chill or a high school reunion. I have no interest in going to my high school reunion, but I do have interest in taking LSD with someone that I did it with 50 years ago. And Mink [Stole] was the perfect candidate—which was good because she was the only friend my age who said yes. We also involved a younger friend, because tripping with just two people is weird.

I have no interest in going to my high school reunion, but I do have interest in taking LSD with someone that I did it with 50 years ago.
It’s good to have at least a third.
You need a third, yes, in case somebody has to get the straitjacket out or something. And it was a great experience, but I’m not sure I’d ever do it again. It was like hitchhiking across the country: I did it, I was a bit amazed I did it and proud, but I don’t necessarily have to do it again. To be honest, I think it was better than it had ever been before though, but I think it might have been the acid. I took eight months to make sure the source was as close to Timothy Leary’s fingertips as possible. 

How was the experience?
Oh, I was full-on tripping. This wasn’t some small microdose. I wasn’t seeing little trails and that was it. It was full tilt, pictures spinning, flowers moving and getting bigger, little mice running around talking—but they were cute mice, like Cinderella

Oh good—they were benevolent, non-threatening psychedelic mice you hallucinated.
Yes, they were non-threatening mice for sure. It was like Gus Gus had appeared to help Cinderella prepare for the ball. [laughs]

You’ve long been an icon for societal outcasts and seem to have a real desire to connect with them via your writing and events. Is that part of what you dig about Burger Boogaloo?
Well punk has always been down-low gay anyway—Darby Crash’s closet is still felt. I’ve always liked and felt safe within the punk rock world. I actually always felt that was more my world than many other of the minority movements because it was mixed; it wasn’t separatist in any way. And Burger Boogaloo absolutely has that spirit—I mean there’s people from 14 to 70 pogo dancing. There’s grandmothers there and some of these older people are stage diving and being held up by people in the audience who were born decades after punk started. I love it.
I never thought Divine was camp. Divine was punk.
Is that sense of inclusivity what draws you to Burger Boogaloo and punk in general? You write in the book about other social movements in the 1960s and ’70s being very macho and unaccepting of queer folk.
There were always gay punks and it was easier because the punk scene was really transgressive—even women that were traditionally beautiful were trying to make themselves ugly, which I loved. It was the like Clairol Chart in reverse: the entire idea of beauty backwards, which is what we tried to do in the early movies. And people talk about camp, but I never thought Divine was camp. Divine was punk. 

Divine would be right at home at Burger Boogaloo.
Yes. And punk never really died; look at Burger’s success. But camp did, because camp was innocent and it’s not innocent anymore. Camp was something that was so bad it was good and didn’t know it. Now if you’re camp you try to be, which negates it in my book. 

I love that you’ve branched beyond film work so ably in recent years, but what do you see happening with indie film?
I still get paid to write movies. They paid me three different times recently; they just didn’t make them because of financing. And if you read what’s going on in independent film today, thank god I have many different ways to tell stories because that business ain’t what it used to be. People still watch movies; they just watch them in a different way. And people will figure out how to get their films out. They thought TV was going to put them out of business, they thought video was going to put them out of business, so we’ll see. The internet might! [laughs]

Something that rings true for me that you talk about is that if you’re going to be a creative person, you have to be a lifer.
Oh, you do. Because as soon as you take a break someone comes in and steals your place. You have to be serious as an artist, no matter what you do. You need to think “I have to do this.” It takes a long time and it’s often a life of rejection, but you can do it. That’s really what I’m sharing with the book: I’m just trying to tell you how I figured out how to do it. And I failed a lot too, as far as businesses and being around some assholes—but still, I ended up okay. That’s part of growing older too: you learn to avoid assholes.

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