Category Archives: queer theory

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Pride Challenge: Day 3

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How old were you when you knew? What was that like for you?

Being bi: For sure?  I was 18.

It had occurred to me that I was different in that regard about midway into my teens.

It was no great revelation, just a bit of an opening up of my options and a realization of attractions.

Being non-binary? Probably about a year ago or so.  I’ve more or less been a tomboy forever.  It didn’t occur to me that this was “abnormal” until middle school, so I quickly feminized when I decided I wanted to attract guys, because that was the only acceptable look.

But when I went back to college, I reverted to what was comfortable to me: teeshirts, hoodies, and jeans.  The tomboy thing.  But over time, I learned how to adjust my clothing to account for my sensory processing issues, but with the bits of femininity I liked.

I had some feelings of gender dysphoria early on, I suspect, but didn’t have the language to describe my in-between state.

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Pride Month Challenge: Day 2

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Did you have any experiences as a child that might have foreshadowed your sexuality?

A crush on Poison Ivy from the Batman pop-up comic.  Seriously hot stuff there.  I didn’t have any judgments about that crush at the time – it was just a thing that I liked, a character that I kept coming back to, looks-wise.  And considering I can count the crushes I’ve had in my life on one hand (both fictional and real life), that sticks out.

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Pride Month Challenge: Day 1

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So, some of my friends on Facebook are doing this LGBT Writing Prompt thingy for this month, and I like it, so I’m going to do it here.  I misssed the first day, but I will just do two posts today.

Define your sexual orientation or gender identity. Be creative in your definition.

I’m like ice cream – I come in many different forms and variations and can fit in different containers, but at the beginning and end of the day, I am fluid.  Sometimes I am more tart, sometimes more sweet, sometimes decadently sinful, but I am always delicious.

To be real – I find it hard to be one or the other – the binary does not suit me very well.  In fact I’m not sure it ever has.  I mean, really – queer (bisexual/pansexual), switch, poly, non-binary gendered.  I live the middle.  The middle lives me.

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Enough?

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I was listening to one of my favorite podcasts this afternoon as I was driving and they were talking about expanding sexual orientation in relation/response to non-monogamy.  The idea came up about not being queer enough to claim queer.  My first response is to call bullshit on this, but I know that I have internalized a lot of the “not enough” bullshit.

I do not feel “queer/bi enough” because I am currently a Kinsey 2.  I have a female partner who I have sex with, and might be interested in having sex with another female partner, but am otherwise not really interested in pursuing any other women.  In the past a great majority of my relationships have been with male or AMAB people.  Am I queer enough?

I sometimes do not feel “poly enough” because my saturation point is fairly low and in the past I have chosen to only have one partner when I was not mentally stable.  In that particular case I began doubting myself – not my identity, but myself, as being poly is rather central to being me – because I was not sure I would ever fall in love again.  Fortunately, that did not end up being the case.  But that still remains in the back corner of my head (more quiet than not these days).  I am not loud and proud about being poly, but don’t make much effort to keep it any bit of a secret.  Am I poly enough?

I sometimes do not feel “genderqueer/genderfluid/non-binary gendered enough” to claim that identity or to claim being transgender.  I tend to look lazy femme or just tomboyish in my presentation.  My dysphoria only flares up occasionally.  I do not have any issues with how my genitals look or work or the fact that I have visible breasts and other curves that may not be easily disguisable.  I strongly prefer they/them pronouns, but am willing to accept she/her in some contexts.  I am not out about this identity to anyone except friends.  Am I trans/NB enough?

I sometimes don’t feel “mentally ill or neurodivergent enough” to claim those.  My depression is cyclical and my anxiety is, in at least half of cases, controlled enough not to show.  Yes, I have sensory processing issues, but those tend to just come across as being a little weird to most people.  My ADHD is moderately well managed and also just tends to come across as a bit odd or flighty when not.  Am I mentally ill/neurodivergent enough?

I sometimes don’t feel “physically ill” or in pain enough to claim being a spoonie.  But the truth is – I have an autoimmune condition that I will have to take medication for for the rest of my life and does have an effect on my energy levels.  However, that’s under control and my migraines have mostly abated.  My joint pain is getting worse and I’m starting to think it might be something other than the barometric pressure shifts to that pain (the remaining migraines are definitely just that though).  My pain levels do affect my energy levels.  Yes, there are many people who have it worse.  It is hard to remember that my pain is also valid.  Am I physically ill enough to be a spoonie?

Am I enough of a partner for my partners?  The idea that I was defective because I was not the only partner a partner has, that they were looking for someone else because I am not enough never was an issue for me.  Instead it is a matter of other measures.  Am I available enough, physically or mentally?  Am I stable enough (physically and mentally) to be in a relationship with them?  Am I pretty enough to keep their attention?  Am I satisfying enough in bed for them to still want to sleep with me?  Can we build enough of a relationship to weather the years (can I contribute enough to the relationship to this building), if that is indeed something we want?

Am I enough?  To myself I can be, that I know.  And I am very glad that I am at a point in my life where this matters most.  It was not easy getting here and sometimes I slip back into old thoughts.

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November Write 17

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Star posted this earlier and I think it deserves a post.

Especially this portion:

Look. I know we’re all hurting. And when the world is confusing and we’re feeling lost getting righteous and angry becomes a feel-good release. But shutting people down who are trying to help is not good. It is not helpful. It’s not how we build a movement.

We need all the people to do all the things. Period.

There have been a lot of takedowns regarding the whole safety pin thing, and some of them are very fair concerns: co-opting by non-allies and people not being willing to back up the symbol with actual action (physically if needed) being the two that come first to mind.  

But here’s the thing, well, actually two things:

  1. At least half, if not more, of the articles I’ve seen criticizing the use of the pins are from people with relative privilege – often white cis-het men.  Not that they shouldn’t criticize – I’d say the subject is fair game to all involved.  But sometimes it seems like they are talking to drown out the voices of the people actually affected.  Why don’t we ask the queer, trans, female, Muslim, Jewish, black, chronically ill/disabled (spoonie), native, Mexican (among so many other groups) folks, ya know, the people who are getting harassed, what they think about it?
  2. Which brings me to the second point.  As someone who fits in several of those categories (and is read to fit in another), I actually appreciate the effort that people have put into making this a thing, especially when they are willing to put action behind this symbol.  I think a lot of the people who might have worn it and followed through may be getting discouraged by all the criticism.  I’m not going to give them a cookie for something they should be doing anyways, but it is nice knowing who I can count on.

This whole movement, made much more urgent by the results of the presidential election, was a catalyst for me choosing to identify as non-binary transgender instead of just non-binary.  I cannot step back further into the closet – that is not a direction I feel is an option for me, so I press forward.  

However, I do recognize my relative privilege in this.  I pass as a white, straight, cisgender woman when I am in public with my two male partners.  When I am out with my girlfriend I pass less, mostly because I am privileged enough to act queer in public without much consequence. 

So I do wear the safety pin, because I cannot use that privilege as a shield when others are on the front lines of this battle for basic human rights and considerations.

I will fight.

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November Write 7

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I have been thinking about what we went over in class on Sunday. One of the things that came up in regards to negotiating is the idea of power dynamics in relationships. Not even just kinky power dynamics, but ordinary things that show up in even the most vanilla of relationships.

My theory: power dynamics follow privilege.

Think about it. Who has power in society, particularly American society? White, straight, cisgendered, able-bodied, rich, neurotypical men. Especially those who are older and pass as butch, but those aren’t such a huge predictor as the other factors.

In a vanilla relationship what gives a person power over another? Money (and the ability to generate it – which can be dependent on having a degree of both physical and mental ability, as well as not belonging to a sexual orientation or gender expression/identity that you can be fired for in the area you live in). The ability to pass through society as the “default” – the people in power look like you (see white, cisgendered, able-bodied, and mostly older men) – so you don’t have to worry about them taking away your rights.  Age certainly does convey a certain amount of power because you have had time to accumulate resources and certain experiences can certainly convey power on one party or another.

Also there is the concept of gatekeeping.  The person who desires something less has power over the person who desires something more, as they tend to be able to control access to it.  The desire in question can take many forms: sex, time, resources, food, and medical care, just to name a few.  Gatekeeping is the one place where I think that power does not necessarily follow privilege. Sex is considered one place in society where women always have power over men – men are considered to have the greater libido, and women the lesser, so they get to choose how to exercise this power – withholding sex when they wish for something else.  But even this is not strictly true.  Women can desire sex more, can be the higher libido partner.  Throughout history, men have sought to control the seuxality of women, to exercise their power in other realms to control how others choose to gatekeep.

I probably have more to say on this, but I’ve run out of steam and have to go to class now, so I guess this will be it for the day.

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August Post 20

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Feeling: nervous…and nervous because I don’t know what I’m nervous about.

So, it’s my 10 year high school reunion tonight and I’m nervous.  I’m nervous about presenting properly.

Ack, that’s a complicated idea.  I want to present as myself – some elements of the feminine, some elements of the masculine.  Coding only subtly as queer – which is weird for me – because I’ll be with a group that I’m not used to coding as queer with.  Plus I’ll have Trydaen with me, which codes as straight.

I’ve come across this before when I was in college and I was just seeing a guy (not monogamous, just only seeing one person at that time).  Going out to queer spaces with just a guy – it made me uncomfortable.  Everyone would see me as straight, a straight person invading queer spaces (bi-erasure for the lose… 😦 ).  I tried to combat this by distancing myself from him, but that just feels awful, for both of us.

I’m not comfortable with either side of this.

I’m not straight.  I never have been.  I’m uncomfortable being seen as straight.  But, how can I break through the assumptions, while still dressing in a way that makes me comfortable?  I think there’s some bigger questions going on here.

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Society and Sluts

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There are very few people who see me who would think me a slut. I wear tee-shirts and jeans when I go out. I tend to be fairly unassuming.

But people might read what I do and how I behave, without seeing me, without knowing me and perhaps assume that I am a “slut” or one those nasty words that society uses to describe women it doesn’t like or thinks might have “too much sex”. Despite the fact that no one every defines what “too much” is. My guess is that too much is more than the listener has had.

The average American woman has four sexual partners in her lifetime and the average American man has six to eight, according to the Kinsey Institute. Would too much be more than that? I guess I’ve still had more than too much for a woman–I’m looking at eight right now at 23. Now granted, that’s not a lot compared to some people (a friend recounted her total and came up with around 48 and she’s about four years older than I am). But it is more than a few people I know (many of my guy friends). Who’s counting?

Is frequency what counts? Well, geez, I guess I fit into that category too. Only 7.5% of partnered women my age have sex more than four times a week (same source).

Is it when first intercourse occurred? There’s another category in which I look like a slut to the statistics, though not by much: 16.6 compared to the average American female’s 17.4 (same source again).

But who’s counting, really?

The fact that I am a bisexual queer poly woman, with large-ish breasts would be enough for some people to judge me a slut based on stereotypes, even without knowing the numbers. Not that the numbers matter.

What matters is one thing: I do not define myself as a slut, therefore I am not. Period. End of sentence.

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To say something…

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I feel like I haven’t written in a long time, so I figured I’d share something I wrote today.  I wrote this as a response to someone’s question about what the difference between the terms “cissexual” and “cisgender” is, and I rather like it.

I subscribe to this idea: [www.gendersanity.com] where a lot of descriptors are separated from one another. To use myself as an example: I am biologically female (biological sex–far right); have a gender identity that is close to woman (gender identity–right of center, but not far right); express my gender in a way that on average is sorta androgynous (gender expression–near the center); and have a bisexual orientation slightly favoring women (sexual orientation–slightly left of center). I am both cissexual and cisgender.

Cissexual: my mental and physical sexes are aligned (biological sex and gender identity). I am not transsexual.

Cisgendered: this is a little more complicated. It also means gender normative. By the strictest definition, I am not 100% cisgendered, but I consider myself to be. My gender expression does not exactly line up with society’s expectations of how I should perform my biological sex. Society is conflating bio sex with gender expression in the term gender normative.

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Identifying

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To put this out there before I get started with any of the rest of this post: I am all about people not wanting to put themselves in boxes or limit themselves with words. Trust me, I think the English language (well, any languages) are too limiting to encompass the whole of humanity and that we lack words for feelings and ways of thinking that I wish we had. So, given this disclaimer, I’m going to talk about the identifying word boxes I place myself in.

This is not about the boxes that society places me in because that’s how they see me. Those are easy to say, though challenging to deal with in real life. They call me white, female, average height, overweight, brunette, student, with a loud voice and fairly large breasts. Yes, these are true, and yes they have affected the shape of my identity. However, they are not how I identify.

I call myself a bi dyke, a feminist, a transgender ally, a woman of thought, a queer person, a poly lady, and a switch who loves to bottom and takes pleasure in topping the right person, in no particular order.

I ride the middle of the Kinsey scale, sometimes on a daily basis–if you want to put numbers on it (and there are sometimes I love numbers, but other times they are harsher and more judgmental than words) I range from a 2.5 to a 3.5.

I believe that chaos is another form of organization and the chaos in my spaces reflects how my mind works–some things have to be in a certain order and others require no order.

I am working on being an ethical omnivore–buying any meat I can from places that treat their animals right in life and death–I am working my way out of being a near vegetarian because I realized I am not that.

I love the word kinky. To me it is like “queer”: so many definitions, so many ways to work it.

I call myself a liberal, but I find myself increasingly disenchanted with the political parties in this country–too conformist, too middle of the road to be good for people. If I had to pick a party that represents the majority of my interests, I would be a Lib Dem.

That’s me, in a very small nutshell.