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I’m (not) sorry, but can we hold up on celebrating every white straight cisgender man who does anything minimally non-homophobic/biphobic/transphobic? I appreciate these efforts. And, I recognize the work of some as anti-homophobic, anti-biphobic, and/or anti-transphobic activism (you know, because not being a bigot is not the same thing as being an ally or advocate). In my opinion, they should be doing this, and giving a cookie to every self-proclaimed ally reinforces the message that bigotry is just a few bad apples and justice can be achieved through a few noteworthy, but infrequent acts.
Beyond that, I find that queer people do not get enough credit for existing, daring to be visible, authentic, happy. Coming out. Refusing to hide. Refusing to conform. Refusing to resign themselves to a miserable, invisible, inauthentic existence. Refusing to tolerate the status quo. Refusing to be excluded from important social and political institutions. Who could ever imagine a day that lawsuits are filed in the country’s most conservative states to force them to get up to speed with federal recognition of same-gender couples? Even in the face of opposition that has demonized queer people as promiscuous, drug-abusers, pedophiles, non-monogamous, and perverts, queer people have demanded to have their relationships recognized and celebrated.
We’re here, we’re queer, get used to it. Straight, cisgender people, get used to it! That is some brave, bold shit.
Oh, but it takes a lot to be so brave. Individual queer people are worn out from the daily toll of being out (or not) or making that negotiation minute by minute. Our relationships are tested as we navigate another, unexpected layer of the closet: queer love and sex. Do we embark on the war with our intolerant families? How do we navigate our communities? How do we navigate the law and institutions? All while not really seeing ourselves, seeing others like us, in public and the media. All while, at best, being tolerated but never fully accepted.
Sometimes, the well runs dry. Sometimes, it is easier to give it up — accept our second-class citizenship. The opposition can be so fierce that you begin to wonder why you fight — maybe you are asking for too much, too soon. Maybe you are naive to hope for better. Maybe you are even greedy for wanting equality in an unequal world. Maybe you should concede to the world’s desire to make you disappear.
Fuck. That. Noise.
My activism is not radical unless staying alive is radical. It is radical if equality is radical. We have got to fight — all of the time — so we can stop fighting. When one of us gets weary, another one should step up to carry on, and another to support the both of them. By continuously fighting, we carry on the legacy of those who fought before us, and improve the opportunities for future generations. It is not a war we started, but it is one we will have to win in order to survive.
So, I am celebrating queer warriors — all of them. And, I am honoring the fallen. Fight on. Thanks to our heterosexual and cisgender supporters and allies; keep fighting on, but celebrate the victories for queer justice — not yourselves.
I have been thinking about Miley Cyrus a bit lately.
I never thought I would start off a post that way — particularly one about queer sexuality and queer people. She … I don’t even know what to call it… at MTV’s Video Music Awards a few weeks ago. And, became the talk of the town once more, this time swinging in nude on a wrecking ball. When I finally saw the video for that single, “Wrecking Ball,” I was so disappointed. Such a lovely, heartfelt song; in no way had I imagined seeing her naked, especially not sexually licking other construction equipment. It just seemed unnecessary. And, really, unnecessarily vulgar. Must every video be an opportunity to sell sex?
I depart there from the conversations about Miley Cyrus and her public and private sex lives. (I’m late, anyhow.) But, I am intrigued by the conversations that speak more broadly about sexuality, gender, and empowerment. Yes, Miley Cyrus is just one woman in our sexist, sex-obsessed, sex-negative society — even within the music and entertainment industry that suffers from those same characteristics. (Really, just look at Rihanna’s new video…) Good; let’s think sociologically!
But, what troubles me is we have not walked away from these conversations with any clear answers. Is Miley Cyrus a sexually-empowered feminist icon? Or, is she yet another pawn of the music industry? Apparently, the line between one’s sexual objectification and one’s sexual empowerment is too thin. Fuck. That is a really disturbing revelation.
Queer Sexual Empowerment
In deluding myself that there is a clear distinction, I am able to come up with clear examples of women’s sexual empowerment. It’s women who refuse to hide that they are sexual, want sex, and like sex. Right? It’s “girl groups” like Destiny’s Child, TLC, and Salt ‘n Pepa, right? It’s older women artists and actors who refuse to cave to the expectations that they should cover up, stop having sex, or just disappear completely, yes?
My thought process eventually turned to queer sexuality — including, but not limited to, gay men’s sexual empowerment. My mind drew a blank. What would queer sexual empowerment look like? In some ways, merely existing as queer people, especially as sexual and loving queer people, is a political act. Fuck you homophobia. We exist.
For some, that empowerment entails a more heightened expression of queer sexuality. Yes, gay pride regularly reflects the very public display of queer sexuality. We’re here, we’re queer, and we’re scantly clad. I have to remind the prude in me that homophobes and transphobes dismiss queer people whether we are dressed in gender normative ways or donning a rainbow boa, 6-inch-heels, and 5 o’clock shadow. So, while I do not personally embrace the joy of public queer sex and sexuality in this way, I refuse to rain on fellow queer folks’ parade.
But, I do grow tired of the conflation of gay with gay sex. I suppose the final straw was seeing yet another men’s sports team gone nude for a calendar to raise money for an LGBT-related cause. First, this story implies that all of the players are cisgender and heterosexual. It also ticks me off because — duh! — white muscular cis masculine men without disabilities are always sexy. The pervasive sexualization of these kinds of bodies in the context of queer pride has gotten to the point that it no longer registers as empowerment, at least in my opinion. These kinds of bodies are now used for more than sexual desire — ranging from political LGBT events, to businesses’ advertisements to LGBT communities, to any general nod that something is queer. That’s not empowerment.
Even if that was empowerment, when do queer people like me get to be sexually empowered? Why do brown queer bodies still serve the taboo sexual desires of white audiences? Why are fat queer bodies only celebrated in subcultures within LGBT communities, while otherwise invisible or used to repulse or for humor? And, what about gender expression — can I be sexy, sexually desired, and sexually empowered while defying society’s expectations for male-bodied individuals?
As an aside, I think that being sexual or having sex in public is only one way to be sexually empowered. Yes, I do believe queer people should have the freedom to be sexual beings in their public, everyday lives without worrying about threatening cis heterosexuals. But, not everyone wants that. Speaking for myself, I would feel more sexually empowered if I could be a loving, whole person in public. I hate being on guard during the few times my partner and I even hold hands in public. I hate having to monitor how I interact with other men — especially cis heterosexual men, especially other queer men. Even how I interact with people with whom I do not want to or actually have sex with is constrained because of the disempowering force of homophobia.
I suppose, like cis women’s sexual empowerment, the bounds of queer sexual empowerment are difficult to define. For queer people, it is their sexual relationships, behaviors, and desires that are the primary targets of homophobic and biphobic hatred. Sex is often used to evoke panic around trans* issues. To embrace one’s sexuality as a queer person in this homo-, bi-, and transphobic society is a political act. But, only to an extent, it seems. We have gained political ground by convincing the cis straight dominated society that we can be in loving, monogamous relationships, and thus deserve access to marriage and other important institutions. Don’t worry, all of that kinky public sexuality stuff is just a phase until we are ready to have real relationships.In a way, I worry the sexual empowerment of cis heterosexual women and of queer people is not 100% on their terms. A cis woman’s public expression of being a sexual person is valued if it gets heterosexual men off. The flip side of that is that women’s sexuality serves as a source of power — sometimes their sole source of power in this misogynistic society of ours. Queer people’s sexualities are acceptable to the extent that cis heterosexual people do not have to witness it. We gain power by presenting ourselves as “Good As You.”
Empowerment on the dominant group’s terms… that’s not empowerment. Ugh.
I won’t lie – I pride myself on my pro-feminist ideology, further extended and nuanced through a black queer lens through which to view the world. I spend a considerable amount of time agonizing over the privileges that have been bestowed upon me because of what is assumed to be between my legs and its extension into my self-presentation to the world. I am aware that, even with a genderqueer identity, my masculine gender expression, especially in terms of clothing and name, grants me an indefinite number of conveniences, leg-ups, head-starts, and other forms of unfairly distributed advantages that are denied to women and transpeople. But, no matter how hard I work to recognize and reject my male privilege, there will always be a block of privileges that are unknown to or unseen by me; hence, this is how privilege sustains itself – it is invisible to its beneficiaries, even those who fight to challenge inequality.
Again, another admission: I wish I could dress and behave in ways that more accurately express my genderqueer identity. But, I’m both too comfortable in boys’ clothing and too afraid/unmotivated to deal with the expected harassment, violence, outcasting, and discrimination that I would face if I were to stop dressing in masculine clothing. So, dressing in feminine or androgynous attire for Halloween is the next best thing. This year, I donned a feminized and sexualized army uniform. I supplemented the costume with my own blonde wig, leopard print bra (that I stuffed for additional bust), fishnet stockings, and men’s combat boots.
My goal was not to pass as a woman, so I didn’t shave my facial hair, legs, or chest – and all of these areas were exposed. If anything, I wanted to be a sexy expression of both masculinity (i.e., hair, boots, and failure to feminize my voice or behavior) and femininity. I would say that the numerous compliments from friends indicated a success!
But, from others at the local gay bar I attended for Halloween fun and dancing, I found that complimenting was not limited to pleasant appraisals of my outfit. In fact, the first two people that approached me decided to grab my breasts in order to measure their authenticity – both were men dressed as drag queens. Then came the man dress as a mail carrier who insisted on giving me a chance to select a free drink from his bag of random goodies. (To his disappointment, I pulled a note that said “happy Halloween!”, the same note I pulled a second time later. Eventually, he just pressed to buy me a drink and I caved so he’d leave me alone.)
Then, there was the heavily intoxicated woman, whose costume wasn’t much more than a ball gown, who decided to give me what seemed to be a mammogram because she was so fascinated by my breasts. (As an overweight male, yes, I have breasts, but I stuffed with a couple pairs of underwear in a way that pushed up the real breasts to achieve an authentic busty look.) There were long, shameless stares; an attempt to see if I had “tucked” my penis; a few anonymous grabs of my butt; two “motor boats” (essentially vibrating one’s head between a woman’s breasts); an attempted kiss by the cowboy friend of the mail carrier, to whom I was introduced as the mail carrier’s boyfriend; and a bit of following during the night (mainly by the cowboy and mail carrier).
I do not attempt here to suggest that I now know what it’s like to be a woman. This experience was limited to a few hours, which were otherwise fun. Most of my “admirers” were men, though there were a few drag queens, one drag king, and one woman. And, this happening in a gay bar rather than a predominantly-heterosexual bar makes this experience somewhat qualitatively different than a night a woman might experience. But, this experience, brought on my by appearance, is one that I do not otherwise have access to. Even if different, I was able to gain some insight into what it’s like to be stared at, felt up, given “free” drinks under the implicit expectation of sex in return, and followed. I could see that others, even if in masculine attire, who bore some skin were often the target of aggressive, sexual attention. In that women face greater pressure to wear very revealing clothing, this skin-as-invitation-for-harassment experience is faced to an enormously greater degree by women than by men.
And, I am certain that any complaints I would make about being harassed would be rebuked with, “well, what did you expect, coming dressed like that?” At one point, I felt it was implied when I did complain. I am well aware of the victim-blaming that is practiced when women are victimized by sexual assault, rape, and intimate partner violence, but I had no idea that victim-blaming was so pervasive, that to bare one’s skin is read as an explicit, intentional invitation to be gawked at, fondled, and propositioned. The double-bind is ever-apparent: wear sexy, revealing clothing in order to get attention, be desirable, and not to be dismissed as an inauthentic or unsuccessful woman; but, then, when you do bare some skin, be aware that you are essentially “asking for” any and everything that comes your way.
Back To Life, Back To Reality?
We now return you to your regularly scheduled programming. The drag is off and I’m back to my usual genderqueer-identified and masculine-expression self. Though inappropriate touching, staring, and commenting are always a possibility, the rate at which I experienced them last night will never be seen again unless I re-transform into my sexy GI Beyonce self. But, this unintended breaching experiment’s results will not disappear. I am debating, today, about whether to address this new found awareness of gendered sexual harassment and assault in my lecture tomorrow on sexual assault and rape. But, my fear is that my male privilege allows for me to speak openly about a one-time experience, while women and transpeople experience sexual assault and harassment, or at least the threat of it, on a daily basis. In some ways, I resign myself to capitalizing on the privileges I cannot avoid by speaking out against injustices that are otherwise dismissed as a woman’s issue, or a play of the “race card”, or cry-baby complaints.
In any event, even if my Halloween experience does nothing to help others become more aware of the rape-encouraging culture we live in and gendered violence more broadly, I find comfort in the eye-opening of at least one person: myself.