Toemageddon, queerness and beyond spectrums

Woah, gender has been on our (as in mainstream culture’s) minds a lot lately.  ABC, CBS, and of course Fox News picked up the story of Toemageddon (The Daily Show is, of course, my favorite coverage of this non-story).  This is a reflection of the deep seeded homophobia and transphobia in our culture. I also find it horribly irresponsible for a physician (Fox News op ed author) to add to the social stigma that transgender people face, for we know discrimination and institutionalized hate increases stress, decreases health and increases rates of depression and suicide.

So this had me thinking, once again, how much I love being queer, embracing multiple genders, gender bending, and looking at cute and dirty pictures (more).  Blake recently stumbled upon found this amazing queer, feminist, pro-male, all-inclusive porn blog, Sex is Not the Enemy.  In addition to awesome pictures, including many of people smiling and excited about their and their partners' bodies, there are some fabulous quotes:

            “Not only isn’t gender an either/or, it’s not even on a spectrum. The spectrum model, while allowing for more possibilities, still presents it as a zero-sum experience. It makes it seem as if, the more you have of one, the less you must have of the other. That approach reifies and reinforces the idea that there’s an opposition. In reality, any of us can have any of the characteristics that our culture defines as male or female. Each of us is a unique mixture of these traits and rather than being scared of that, we can embrace it, we can celebrate it, and we can enjoy it.” (reblogged from Sex is Not the Enemy, originally from here)

"There are more locations than girl and boy, man and woman. Decamping from one does not have to mean climbing into another. There’s plenty of space in between, or beyond the bounds, or all along and across the plane or sphere or whatever of gender, and it is entirely okay to say, 'I do not like being a girl, and so I shall be a boy.' But it must also be okay to say, 'I do not like being a girl, so I shall set about changing what it means to be a girl,' and yes, okay to say, 'I do not like being a girl, and so I shan’t.'" (reblogged from Sex is Not the Enemy)

Cate Blanchett reblogged from Girlsin Suits

Weak in the knees? I am.  

Cate aside, I really hope there comes a day where we do, indeed, embrace a mixture of "masculinity" and "femininity."  Even within our LGBT/queer communities, you're often labeled as one or the other - butch or femme, maybe andro(genous) if you're one of the sexy in-betweenie-weenies (like my genderless ball of love).  It frustrates me endlessly that our (very diverse) communities have about as much trouble with the concept with gender as a spectrum (or beyond a spectrum) as the general mainstream culture does. 

Another wonderful blog I've come upon is queerradical.com, and this post. "Queerness is a negation of fixed identities; it exists within the realm of that which will not be defined by language—the incomprehensible, ridiculous, and baffling."  

This is what I love about queer. I do think I know who I am, and I acknowledge that I constantly change. I change my preferences all the time; what I prefer to eat, to wear, to work out on and in, the type of company I prefer to keep, and the traits I look for in a significant other. Why shouldn't I be fluid in my sexual preferences? Why shouldn't I refuse to decide, to box myself in, to make a false claim of who I am, when it is constantly shifting?

I hope the world catches up soon on the beauty that is the variety of gender expression and the freedom that comes with always redefining ourselves. 

 

To be desired

It’s dark and I’m pressed up against another body. Another body whose hands are on me, and we’re sweaty. We’re dancing. Or swaying, or grinding, moving together, wanting. In my fantasy, this person is a woman. With long hair or with short hair, it does not matter.  I’m wearing a dress, a short dress, and stockings. She pulls me even closer to her, grinding her hips against mine, her leg between mine, mine between hers. The sweat and desire is palpable between us, but I do not kiss her. Kissing her would ruin the fantasy, extinguish the desire, and kissing on a stranger on a dark dance floor is rarely satisfying.

The fantasy changes, now the body against mine is male, taller, bigger hands on my waist, on the small of my back. Someone I know, someone with a very strong, attractive jaw. I’m in high femme drag, fake hair on my face, but he doesn’t care, he likes it, is as turned on by gender bending as I am. Maybe his mouth meets mine, maybe not – it’s inconsequential to the fantasy. All that matters is our bodies pushed together, our sweat, the wetness between my legs, my hips pressing into him. I can feel his want, and that is all I want – to consume his desire for my body.

Gender Bending

I’ve thought gender bending is sexy for a long time. In high school I thought Frank from Rocky Horror was damn sexy. Like, I-want-Frank-to-fuck-me-sexy.  It was something about that corset and heels and masculine frame and in-charge attitude. I know, it’s a little weird, but I’m ok with that. 

 Wish I could give photo credit, 

but I have no idea where I got this

Ever seen  Kinky Boots? Well you should. Charlie in thigh high boots and a business shirt – yummy.  The drag queen, Lola – yep, wanted to be on her too.

More recently I’ve been paying more attention to the female side of gender bending. Drag kings – yes please. Androgyny– wolf. I’m not sure what it is about the idea of a female bodied stud wearing a packer that turns me on so much, but it does. I don’t know why I like a feminine looking woman wearing men’s clothing that hide the curves I so love, but I do.

All this thinking about what turns me on made me think about how I present myself to others and how I try to make myself attractive.  How To Be Butch has a great post about this.  When I started going out in my BigCity queer scene a couple years ago, I dressed very feminine, carried a purse and wore heels. That is, until some femme chick in a skirt said to me, “why are you carrying a purse? You look like a straight girl – can’t you just put everything in your pockets?”  I had just bought myself a new Coach purse that year, but holy shit, I did NOT want to be identified as the straight girl. How would I get hit on?

I lost the purse and traded in my cleavage shirts for button downs and ties. I put the heels and huge earrings back on and felt more comfortable.  I dated one woman who liked my cleavage, and I brought out those shirts again. I dated another chick who liked her girls butchier and I put them away again, wore less make up, and didn’t like how I looked. I put the earrings and make up back on and she teased me.

Since then, I’ve become much more confident and comfortable in my own skin, my BigCity queer scene, and whatfuckingever clothes I want to wear.  I love my dykey hair cut, knee high boots and dresses, or my tough-guy jacket, lipstick and button down. I do what feels good. What feels me. Oh yeah, and I don’t worry about getting hit on anymore ‘cause I’m happy to say hi to a pretty girl (or sexy boi).