Who’s Suze? Anticipating The Memoir’s Re-Release

by A/E Welcome

As of writing this, the Kickstarter for the re-release of Holly’s mom’s memoir Suze (1977) is in its final days. Since before I was born, the story of Suze Randall’s trailblazing career as the first female staff photographer for Playboy and Hustler has been inaccessible to the public. Ending on December 17th, the new Kickstarter campaign (spearheaded by successful mainstream photographer Allan Amato) has more than quadrupled its goal of $40,000, thus guaranteeing a limited return of the memoir which has been out of print for decades. Even more exciting (at least to me, someone who manages to love books while despising the act of reading) is the release of an audiobook edition and gorgeous never-before-seen collection of Suze’s legendary photography. Oh, how I wish I had the funds to pledge enough for the photo book before the campaign ends! I can’t help myself from fantasizing about that big glossy collection outshining the vintage trans fashion magazines on my coffee table. Alas! At least you, dear reader, might still have a chance to procure this gem (and I can content myself with the $6 audiobook).

To help promote the campaign, Holly invited her mother (Suze herself) and Allan onto a special live episode of the show on November 29th. Although I didn’t have the pleasure of catching the stream in the moment, I knew I couldn’t miss any sneak-peeks the team would be giving into Suze’s story. I’d seen Holly’s mom chat with her before, but that was back in 2019 (on the very first episode of Holly’s show, in fact), so I wasn’t fully prepared for Suze’s uniquely endearing presence. I’d even forgotten her British accent!

Suze has the resilient, no-nonsense attitude acquired by so many women who’ve lived controversially sexual lives. As I listened to her comment on decades old exploits in the Playboy Mansion, her crudely unflinching embrace of sexuality somehow managed to surprise me. Despite my knowledge of her famously raunchy existence, I suppose my subconscious ageism and internalized misogyny (not to mention whatever Julie Andrews stereotype dominates my perception of older British women) made me imagine she’d “mellowed out” over the years. This couldn’t be further from the case. Although her memory’s not at its peak, if anything, her gaps in recollection add to her impressively devil-may-care attitude. There’s a delightful humor in her matter-of-fact discussions of swingers parties or sucking off Hugh Heffner with a group of other girls. Yet, beyond the shock value and silliness, there’s something else.

Like so many openly sexual women to this day, Suze’s life hasn’t been easy. Beyond social stigma and everyday sexism, choosing to live a sexually liberated life means accepting potentially increased risk of harm, exploitation, and assault: violence that becomes “your fault” in the judgmental eye of much of the public. Although the current post-MeToo-era consciousness makes less room for victim blaming, listening to Suze discuss her experiences has a different tone, familiar to anyone who spends their time listening to stories from older generations of proudly sexual women. It’s not self-blaming victimhood or even mournful recovery. Like the legendary Betty Dodson before her, Suze’s attitude towards sexual violence lies firmly in the realm of stubborn matter-of-fact pragmatism. She knew girls got raped at sex parties. She knew it would be likely to happen to her, especially if she got too drunk. Her solution? LSD. No, really. She made a habit of microdosing LSD before Playboy Mansion parties because, in her experience, it helped her keep her wits about her. Now, I don’t personally endorse this strategy. Psychedelic drugs, in my opinion, are far from a cure for drunkenness and feel more likely to amplify the threat of assault than ward it off, at least for most people. But for Suze, the plan seems to have mostly worked. She’s casually proud of the time she spent at Playboy, and never strikes a tone of indignant or haunted pain at the skeevy environment so many in my generation wince at the thought of.

In fact, while one might assume Suze would prefer the more blandly “sex positive” landscape of attitudes in 2023, that’s not the case. “Now sex is too acceptable, it’s really annoying” she bluntly states in the live podcast episode “It’s better when things are banned and not allowed.” I wish she’d expanded on this more, although the subject quickly turned to answering viewer’s questions. Although this subject is nuanced and I don’t personally hold that precise view, it’s one that resonates with me. Her sentiment reminded me strongly of the words of one of my idols, infamous film director John Waters, who semi-frequently goes on record expressing nostalgia for a seedier, more underground sexual world full of gay men hiding from their families to cruise in bathrooms. “I liked when we [queer people] were outlaws” he said in one interview “...we have to remember that we once were outlaws and how exciting that was.” I can relate! I never had the pleasure of living through the sexual underground of the 1970s and 80s, but I find myself mourning the loss of massive redlight underbellies like the Times Square of that period. Although that era was far from safe and comfortable, it managed to escape the cleansing, normalizing forces that plague sexuality today. I want a world of raunchy unhinged orgies (albeit one with much more consent and safety than those Suze experienced), boundary pushing porn and semi-public perversion, not cleansed and partitioned squeaky-clean sex. 

All and all, I can’t wait to receive my audiobook copy of Suze (1977). Even if I couldn’t personally access it, Suze’s life story deserves to be heard. As much as my women’s studies professors may have tacitly assumed that the landscape of porn production has always, until recently, exclusively privileged the male gaze, women like Suze prove this wrong. The sex industry of the 70s and 80s may have been sleazy and far from safe, but Suze and women like her were there, not only as models and performers, but photographers and directors too. It’s unfortunate that the first female staff photographer for Playboy and Hustler’s story was inaccessible for decades. I couldn’t be more grateful for the Randalls and Allan Amato (plus all the generous pledgers) for finally working to set that right.