Transgressing Gender

Last week I made the commitment to and enjoyed the pleasure of hearing Kate Bornstein speak. Hir appearance was sponsored by the collegiate LGBTQIA organization. Hir talk was encouraging, inspiring, and enthusiastic while addressing the topics of sex, bullying and you.

Here are some of hir talking points from that evening:

• Our imaginations are in thrall to the institutions of oppression. (Minnie Bruce Pratt)
• The names we give ourselves must no longer bind us to a system that would rather see us dead.
• More than either/or, how can I fit in and help heal this world? 
• The Bully system demands that we make a choice: male/female, black/white, right/wrong, day/night, pink/blue, in/out, gay/straight. 
• Each movement has named itself within the confines of the very system it was bucking - the Women's Movement, Gay Activist, Bi-Sexual Movement, Trans-sexual/gender, intersexed, ftm, mtf, all too terrorized to call themselves something other than male or female. We are beyond LGBTQQIA.
• Gender Outlaws will remain outsiders. When they come we will be divided into the either/or. What cultural law are you breaking by just being who you are?
• How can we find some common ground? We hold these truths to be self evident, that all people have the right to Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness. The issue is that mythologies with more power bully the world. That makes it hard to coexist. Our pursuit of happiness doesn't count. When did we stop saying, "Have a lovely day."?
• By leaving no option for a outsiders to thrive, a bully culture engineers its own demise.
• We are still behaving like junior high adolescents - not really children, yet far from adulthood. We use our clicks and insecurities to bully others into compliance. Some pass (survive) by hiding, fading into the background, or acting as if. But what of those who can not pass? What of their right to pursue happiness?
• The responsibility of growing up is to give a helping hand to those who are a few bubbles off center. We need to include - radically welcome - everyone who is being oppressed.
• Binary systems of classification exist only in our imaginations. (Nature has more depth and breath.) Dream a good life for yourself. 
• Yet, so much of what we dream as a good life goes against God. What happens after you dies? Messing around with sex and gender can get you sent to hell.

• Here's your "Get Out of Hell Free" card. (Kate instructed the audience to pick one up at the table on the way out. In case we forgot or were negligent, they were passed out by ushers during the remainder of hir talk.) Kate spoke, "Live you life. Do good things. Be who you want to be, living and loving. Harm no one and be kind. If after a full and loving life, you die and wake up in hell, give the devil this card, or a reasonable facsimile, (Kate held the card up for the audience) and I will do your time for you. You see, I made a deal with the devil." 

 
Kate Bornstein is a Queer and Pleasant Danger. This is hir blog.  Take the quiz on gender. Challenge the dominate thinking. Open a discussion. End the silence that separates us. Live your dreams.

Queer Isn't It Part Two

Authors notes continued:

Then I met this incredible woman I so wanted. She was a lesbian, like had always been a lesbian. She was butch and confident and seemed independent and powerful and gaga wonderful. We sat in the coffeehouse. She drank rocket fuel. I drank herbal tea. She pointed out a beautiful woman at the counter and said, “That’s so and so, she’s bi-sexual. I never sleep with women who sleep with men.” I was so hurt in that moment. It did not stop me from falling in love with her and holding that love for another ten years. When she called I answered even though she only showed up as platonic. She escorted me to more parties, dances, and gatherings than I can count. And she treated me as her date. At this writing, and having finished this novel, I imagine today, that the reason we were never more than friends, though we camped, danced, played, and even cuddled in bed together was because forever, I had slept with a man. There was concrete proof – I had children. 

It is easy to say she was only one person, but she was not. I camped on Wymin’s Land. I personally met lesbians who lived without male interaction. We even had a female ranger for the festivals on state land. Children were allowed at festivals but the boy children had to stay in separate space and the mothers go there to tend them. Even as this was not how I felt or believed, somehow the message passed through. One afternoon my son was outside the front of my home picketing with a sign that read, “Boys are good!”

Yes, boys are good. Men are good. How can we expect to have a successful movement if we forget the inherent goodness of each other? How will we stand against oppression if we are divided against ourselves? When will we stop living by labels and open to the full expression of being human?

My novel addresses these issues in a way I feel is unavailable as of yet. At least I haven’t heard this dialogue. I mean lesbians discussion their attractions to people other than lesbians. The mainstream media play with same sex attractions, but where are the stories from the inside? For my very short journey into the transgender population I met lesbians in relationship with female-male trangender people who felt put out and left out of their previous lesbian communities because they were not lesbians any more. So what are they? And who decides if one is lesbian enough?

I challenge the notion that wearing a label is sufficient. I further challenge the idea that I need a label to live a certain lifestyle or even that I need a partner. Single does not mean I am looking, or interested. Because I am not with a woman does not negate my sexual preference. And just because I am with a woman doesn’t mean that I have no other ideas or interest in how, when, or with who I build my life, share my home, or support my community.

Somehow, homosexual had become all about who we are sexing and who sexes us. We wear the pins, carry the signs, and wave the banner, but when will we start celebrating the diversity of being human. And beyond tolerance, it is time we practice acceptance. My hope is that we can create a space where we can openly talk about how and what we feel free of the fear that we will lose the love and support of those we hold dear.

Thank you reading my work.

Namasté

Queer Isn't It? Part One

These are the author's notes from my novel, Whisper In My Ear, for your perusal and consideration. Though a work of fiction, the characters confronted issues I found deeply personal and rarely presented in public platform.

Comments welcome and encouraged. Thank you.

The author's notes:

Even though we see all forms of sexual expression in the media and on the internet, there is still some taboo about actually having sex, forming sexual unions and especially how relationships look. In the United States, we are still hoping to establish the standard of legitimate relationships as occurring between one man and one woman – literally XX and XY genetically. The reality is that the world has survived with all forms of coupling and people live, grow, have families and build communities in any and all combinations.

Within the queer community one would expect a sense of acceptance, hope and understanding of those outside of the mainstream, but queer itself is rather watered down and undefined. So to resolve the muddle we have factions. We are separated again by gender identity, gender preference, race, religion, color, sexual proclivities, sexual expressions, sexual preferences, and more.  It would seem that with all this choice we would be able to find someplace to fit in, to belong, but I challenge that those are just tiny boxes that rather than include, exclude.

You can’t come in if you used to do this, or that. Once you get in, you can’t even think about doing these things. Well you can think about it, but don’t tell anyone. And if you do tell and it’s the wrong person no one will like you anymore and you may as well get out. No, we don’t put people out, but we don’t want people who do, think, or feel differently than we think you should do, think, of feel in our box.

That is not a new story. It can be applied to any club, religion, church, cult, click, or country. One of the innate longings of human beings is to belong. We seek out people like ourselves to socialize, build community, and feel safe. But belonging need not become a trap. Somehow we need to open the doors and accept the breath of human experience. Notice that while it is nice inside this space we call safe we are missing out on a whole world. There are people who are completely different from us and they are interesting. Sometimes the people inside the box with us would be more interesting if they could share their true feelings and ideas.

How beautiful is the varied garden with trees, bushes, shrubs and bulbs? How varied is the view as we watch the annuals bloom and the perennials return? What is the point of living in a limited world? Do we really feel safe? And what happens when the person with the different idea is you?

Having lived inside the lesbian experience for over twenty years, I encountered many forms of separatism and ostracism. In the beginning I spent time with women who identified as womanist, or womon, or wymin. Their distinction was to not be one joined with man. They took on titles as sybil, priestess, or goddess. They locked their doors and their hearts to men. They were not necessarily lesbians; nor particularly interested in sex – mostly not at all, it seemed. 

The problem for me was I had come out as lesbian in my thirties. I had been married. I had a son. And I liked sex. While my attraction to women was not new (it had lived unexpressed in thought, word, or deed) the lifestyle was. I had lived a rather strict religious existence and was firmly taught to control my thought, never allowing progression in a direction unfitting the beliefs. So, I didn’t, much. The day came when my attraction was toward a particular woman, who I believed was or might be a lesbian. She lived with other women, dressed like the lesbians seemed to dress and shaved her head. She was sweet and friendly and cuddly. To me, she seemed a perfect opening choice. However, she redirected my fancy and said she was my friend and would support me as I figured it out. I figured out a small bit and fell in love. 

That first relationship was and still is a bright star in my heart/mind. It was when I first heard the word queer used as an empowering rather than derogatory word. We were in love, LOVE! We held hands in public. Danced and hugged without fear. We believed we were setting the standard; changing the world. When people saw me they knew I had found my calling. When it ended, I thought I would die. Rather dramatic, I know, but that’s how it is with new love. 

Apparently I didn’t die and went on to have even more powerful loving experiences. While I was figuring things out, sorting my way through a new process and community, and having had no sexual partner for six years, seven months, and four days, I met a man. He was warm, gentle, open, accepting, loving and kind. He was also persistent, sensual, and interested in getting together. So I did. Repeatedly, and often. And at times I didn’t have a grrlfriend, or had grrlfriends who didn’t have sex. Before I ever made a single move, I told him I was a lesbian, but had not figured out how to find the ones that had sex. He said he completely understood. He loved women too. There was no attachment and no commitment. Just a moment in time.