Rough Notes: Warning, It's Dildo-Gate
And how to squeeze some collective joy out of what seems to be a growing disaster.
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At the time of writing this, which is evening on Wednesday, August 6th, there have been 5 dildos discovered within WNBA arenas over the last 8 days, including 3 successfully thrown on-court mid-game. News related to the identity and motivation of those dildo throwers is accumulating more quickly, and what I’m reading really bums me out: indications that dildo-gate is fueled by crypto currency and sports gambling trends, launched by young men seeking viral-induced cash.
But the truth is, when I’ve thought and talked and texted about the dildos over the past week (without knowing anything about its connections to the creepy crypto boy shit), I’ve often done so with what I can only describe as… joy.
And to be clear: I think it’s super inappropriate and scary to interrupt people trying to do their jobs with a flying object that could injure them. And I think the rash of dildo-throwing could spiral, or rather seems to already be spiraling, in a number of unsavory ways, including as a form of sexual harassment.
But like all things, there are multiple ways to hold the shocking presence of a lime green dildo in the middle of a WNBA game up to the light. And that requires thinking about not only the literal flying object, but the sheer experience of our collective reactions.
Let’s get back to that first dildo. When it happened, I was in downtown Oakland co-hosting a watch party with a mighty & grassroots group of queer women’s basketball organizers that we jokingly refer to as “the Avengers.” We’d gathered this gorgeous group of people from mostly the East Bay together, from diehard fans to total newbies, and it was electric.
Plus, the Valkyries and Dream were tied at 75 with less than a minute to go, and we were all rapt. Then suddenly, the game stopped (not for the first time, this game was somehow littered with stoppages.) But this time, the reason was unclear. We couldn’t hear the broadcasters over the rumble of our excitement. And so we had no idea what was happening. And then a female police officer went running across the court? And everyone kept fervently chatting? And Renee Montgomery got up out of her seat? Then, bam…
As soon as the camera caught the dildo’s lime green shape on the floor, we erupted. In this squeal-meets-scream oh my god moment of unraveling. A new shock of delight. A hint of post-All-Star weekend’s horniness, sparked anew. A kind of wonderment for the world of WNBA fandom: so queer, so chaotic, so 2025. And it delivered a transcendent feeling of shared absurdity… which is the stuff of romance, okay?
This feeling, I think, comes directly from another, more basic experience: the rush of having loved something so un-cool for so long, and still reveling in the existence of other people who finally want to talk about it. Or as Emma Carmichael wrote in her recent essay Something To Play For:
“At a dinner party one night, I found myself monologuing to a friend I’d never known to follow the WNBA about potential contract drama for the upcoming season, and then looking around self-consciously when I realized everyone else at the table had paused their side conversations to listen in on ours: Was this okay? Or was I boring everyone? On the contrary, they knew exactly what I was talking about, and wanted to know more. These were relatively mundane differences, sure. But after years of learning to expect repudiation or disinterest, they still hit like a walloping breath of fresh air.”
To me, that breath of fresh air Emma describes is a love story. Especially when it becomes collective. I mean, what’s cuter than caring so much about the same thing that it feels like you’re trapped on some terrifyingly rickety roller coaster ride, surrounded by friends? Like: strap in, you know?
So I guess I want to offer an alternative: instead of throwing more dildos or giving our energy to young crypto traders or focusing on expanding measures of punitive security at WNBA games, dear community, let’s get creative. I suggest (to no one’s surprise)… a group writing exercise! Because we may never experience a time where how we’re feeling about women’s basketball is exactly this absurd.
Queering The Dildo: An Invitation
This is an invitation to write, as a commmmmunittttttty, a totally reimagined version of the dildo-throwing origin story. Remember that art exercise, the exquisite corpse? It’s a surrealist drawing game, a writing experiment and a method of group collaboration. Why not try it together on dildo-gate?
In this case, one person will write a paragraph, and then someone else will add another paragraph, then the next person, then the next. (I’ll be facilitating the handoffs!) Each time, you’ll only be able to see the last sentence of what the person before you wrote, not the full story so far. And in this way, we will spin a winding, absurd piece of fiction that may or may not make any sense. The only rules are: 1) this exercise is rooted in joy and make-believe, 2) here at Rough Notes, we love and celebrate queerness because 3) it’s all for the culture, baby.
Dildo Theories: A Series of Writing Prompts
To get the momentum going, I wanted to share some fodder —alternative theories as to what inspired dildo-gate. Feel free to run with any of these, in any combination, or any parts and pieces… or to come up with your own:
It’s all the result of a wholesale dildo entity in Atlanta overstocking on a particular lime green color and desperate to increase sales,
Or actually lovers quarreling at said wholesale dildo entity used the lime green dildo, until one chucked it as a public proclamation during their most recent breakup,
Unknowingly tapping into an underground network of lime green dildo promoters, made up of secret cells in cities across the country, you get tapped Carmen Sandiego style —
The agenda of the dildo-throwing-underground-Carmen-Sandiego-inspired network is to force the WNBA to launch dildos from the cannons instead of t-shirts as part of a theory around queer sex-positive financial accessibility,
Actually the underground queer network is run by Sydney Colson,
Actually green dildos are thinking sentient beings all named “Mean Green” who worship Sydney Colson and are somehow hypnotizing their “owners” to throw them in order for Syd to deliver messages of love and light to all humans
… and so that eventually, the WNBA adopts a policy of normalizing dildos already on the court (no need to throw them), including halftime entertainment featuring the lost art of dildo juggling, performed by queer people with free lessons for season ticket holders after the game
How To Participate In The Dildo-Gate Exquisite Corpse
Okay, so our story is titled: “Why You Can’t Take Mean Green From Us.” Want to contribute? Here’s how:
Step one: Shoot me an email or a direct message
Step two: Receive your assignment in the next week
Step three: Complete your 1-2 paragraph section within 24 hours of assignment (this is quick, this is flash fiction!)
Step four: Read, revel & enjoy.
This is the best thing I’ve read about dildo-gate 🙏
Can you trust people who don’t know where a dildo goes?