Erasure

I’d like to talk about erasure. Now I know that this is a very broad topic which covers a wide variety of different experiences, and I can’t talk about things which I haven’t experienced. I just want to note first that I know that women, racial minorities, transgender people, and genderqueer individuals all face erasure of their own. Yet I try to keep my blog posts based as purely on my own experience as I can, so I’m going to only talk about the sort of erasure that I have experienced as a bisexual.

Essentially what bisexual erasure boils down to is how we as a society tend to explain away and ignore evidence for sexual orientations which fall outside of the typical gay/straight binary. When a person exhibits behaviors that we determine by whatever metric to be queer, we automatically assume that this person is gay. I’ve yet to hear anyone examine a person’s behavior and mannerisms and come to the conclusion that they were bisexual, pansexual, or any other orientation that isn’t gay or straight. I really do understand why these orientations aren’t recognized, and it’s because they’re complicated. A gay person can come out to a group by dropping easily recognized contextual hints about a man or woman that they like, find attractive, or are dating. If a person who is somewhere else along the spectrum of sexualities, they (we) cannot simply talk about who we are dating and have people understand. I have had many experiences at the center where I’ve started to talk about my girlfriend and had people give me funny looks, as if what I was saying was terribly confusing. Indeed, I’ve even had people cautiously ask me if I was “just an ally” because I brought up my girlfriend. No, just because I’m in a “heterosexual relationship” doesn’t automatically make me heterosexual.

Now to be fair, I have also had great experiences at the center with people who want to learn more about my sexuality and show an understanding that I can’t be defined in typical straight/gay terms. Yet the overwhelming tendency people have to associate LGBT with “gay” has been a bit of a bother for me. (Yeah, I’m prone to understatement.) When I hang a rainbow flag out of my window, to most that means that I support gay rights. But I don’t. I support LGBTQQIA (the A in this case being Asexual) rights and equality. I feel that too often when I am in the LGBT Center, it is assumed that I will only talk about my “gay side” and that my “straight side” is a taboo which unsuitable for conversation in such close proximity to rainbows. Well, I don’t have a straight side and a gay side, I am a bisexual. And I, and any other member of this community who doesn’t identify as gay or straight, shouldn’t have to try to figure out how to define my sexuality in terms that are compatible with the typical binary notion. Just some food for thought. Maybe that boy/girl you’re totally sure is gay is actually bisexual. Or pansexual. Or demisexual. You just don’t know, so please try not to assume for your own convenience.

So...interesting things don't really happen to me...

[Author’s note: I haven't really had any queer life experiences recently, so I'm just going to ramble a bit. Sorry. Post a comment if you'd like me to elaborate or just want to talk about something.]

So, since I'm a little short on LGBT related experiences to draw upon, I guess I'll talk a little bit about what my identity means to me. I identify as bisexual, as many of may know. That said, I've never actually had a sexual experience with a man. I think I might have had a romantic one once, but that was confusing and I was repressed so
I don't really count it. The reason I identify as bisexual though is pretty simple logic. I know for damn sure that I'm not straight. Straight boys just aren’t attracted to other boys.

The thing I find almost amusing is how integral the LGBT center and LGBT people have become in my life. I never thought of my sexual orientation as a big part of me, because I’m just not a very sexual person in general. So the idea that I would end up writing for a queer blog and working in the center would have sounded silly. My sexual orientation wouldn’t ever become that important to me, or so I thought. The thing that I failed to consider is that this is probably the only group that I belong to that is systemically oppressed. I mean, I am white and masculine enough to benefit from those two privilege systems. My family is middle class and I went to a pretty decent high school. I’m pretty lucky when it comes to privilege. So my bisexuality is the only thing that is considered inferior from a societal standpoint. But I could ramble about choosing how to identify myself all day, and I’ve got other thoughts to air.

Coming out as a bisexual (who is dating a woman) was a really strange (and tiring) experience. Inside my mind I always knew that I had the option to not come out, and nobody would be the wiser. I mean, people weren’t looking for me to be queer. I had a girlfriend. As we all know, having a different sexed partner is the number one indicator of straightness. Better yet, my relationship was the perfect excuse not to come out, because it wasn’t a ruse. I had (and do have) genuine feelings for this girl, and so I could pass perfectly easily. What’s worse, I wondered if she would break up with me if I came out. What it came down to, for me, was that if people would reject me for that, I didn’t want them around me anyway. No matter what the short term pain might be, it would be better than me having this secret constantly eating at me.

Then came the actual coming out. First person I came out to was my girlfriend, and in response she came out to me. Then we cuddled up on the couch and watched Fawlty Towers. So that went much better than expected. With that massive success I decided I would tell all sorts of people, my friends, my parents, my sister, anybody if it was relevant to a conversation. That…slowed down quickly. I got exhausted with having to explain it didn’t mean I was breaking up with my girlfriend, and no this doesn’t mean I’m secretly much hornier than I’ve previously shown, and yes I can be monogamous, … you get the idea. Hearing the same old questions got really frustrating, and made me realize how little people know about bisexuals. (Or queer people in general, I imagine, though I can only speak from my personal experience.)

So at the close of this ramble I’d like to remind you that if you’d like me to elaborate on some of the things in this 1:00 AM ramble, just ask me below in the comment thread. Or maybe you just want to use something here as the start for a larger conversation. Or maybe you saw something problematic here. I’d love to hear any of your thoughts. I’m a sucker for conversation. Anyway, that’s it from me. See you next month!

A Proposal

“If things don’t work out with you and L, will you marry me?” W said.

W asked me to marry him if we end up separating from our respective girlfriends. He seemed pretty serious about it, actually. I asked him if he was attracted to me, and he said no. That it was my companionship he valued above all else, and even with his girlfriend. Nonetheless, W identifies himself as straight.

Interestingly, W acknowledged the multi-spectrum interpretation of sexual orientation and sexuality, that orientation can be deconstructed into separate emotional and physical parts. I won’t try to contest or argue what I reacted to as a slightly inconsistent identification as straight given at least one indicator pointing towards bi- or homosexuality. So I’ll only go so far as to use his proposal as a jumping point to think about where I am as a bisexual.

As of now, I think I see males and females equally as companions, but I still find myself checking out somewhat more females than males in a sexual context. Despite this though, I’m equally willing to marry a person of any gender (I honestly haven’t had enough experience with those outside of the male and female boxes to try to claim to be pansexual or otherwise – though in principle, I should be one). Given these parameters, I identify most with the description of a bisexual, and I don’t see this changing any time soon.

The next goal for me is to come out to my parents and to my roommate, if he hasn’t figured it out already, since a number of laziness-related excuses have prevented these things to happen. However, I think more than ever before, I’ve felt more legitimate about my bisexuality and the way I see others sexually and romantically.

In any case, W and I registered to vote in North Carolina – we’ve agreed that we’re going to spread Santorum!

Obligations, Women, and Terrible Dancing

I feel there’s some unspoken understanding on this blog that at least one post has to chronicle the writer’s first major coming to terms with self and sexuality. Such a post can feature some fraught coming-out narrative, or it can be entirely reflective and conceptual. What really matters, though, is that *I* haven’t done one. So, since this is still only my third post, I figured I should get the old self-discovery spiel out of the way way so I can back to writing about more fun things like sex and art.

I’m from the South. And we’re not talking Triangle-South, or Miami-South, or Maryland-South. We’re talking middle-of-the-country, median-income-of-less-than-half-national-average, more-Baptist-churches-than-private-businesses-South. Don’t get the wrong idea from how I describe it: all these things still made for a great place to grow up. But it did also mean that during my formative years, I had no idea what a gay person was, more-the-less what kind of lives they led. I didn’t learn the word “gay” until I was eight. The only gays in the media I saw were on Will & Grace, which was generally considered too racy for me at the time. Any queer adults who found themselves living in Williamston, SC apparently had the good sense to leave, because I’ve not seen hide nor hair of them in a whole lifetime living there.

The only evidence I had that queer adults even existed in the real world was through my mother. Throughout most of my childhood, my mother was a full-time homemaker. This meant that I was told enough stories from her life that I could probably write a competent biography by the time I was ten. In her stories, there was precisely one gay character, a co-worker in a department store when my mother was in her early thirties. Now, my parents are both liberal (much more so than myself), and my mother always made it clear that she thought LGBT Americans deserved the same rights and respect as others. But she also made it clear that she thought this man was a despicable little shit. It wasn’t that he playfully flirted with male customers. It wasn’t that he talked explicitly about sex. It wasn’t that he bought drinks for boys when they all went out to the bar after work. It was that he had a wife and children. According to my mother, he didn’t know he was gay until after he was married. But, for my mother that didn’t redeem him in the slightest. All she saw was a man who made someone he cared about suffer every day of her life because of his own lack of honesty and inability to understand his own sexuality. Nothing could be worse than to hurt a women through one’s own ignorance and weakness.

Naturally, Gnothi Seauton became a sort of cardinal queer virtue for me. So, years later as a high-school sophomore, I found myself in a difficult place. Sparing the details, I found myself at a breaking point in sexual tension with a friend. She wanted to get busy. I had secretly liked her since we met. I thought she was hot. But, at the same time, I had also been catching myself staring at boys for the last year or two and had a crush on a senior guy in my drama class. So, when she pressed the issue, I did what seemed like the best idea at the time: I blurted “waitnostopIcan’tI’mgay.” I wasn’t about to let myself become the guy who realize that he was only attracted to men after he was already knee-deep in children.

For most people, I came out as liking men years before I came out as also liking women. I didn’t take a girl out on a date until I was twenty. Naturally, this adds its own whole set of challenges, which are generally unique and absurd enough that I can’t find anyone capable of giving knowing advice. Girls at parties who might have seen me with my ex or hanging around the Center have me friend-zoned before we’ve even met. Having grown into both an adult and feminist before ever being intimate with a woman means I am absolutely terrified of being romantically or sexually assertive. I can’t navigate hetero-hookup culture to save my life (ask me how many strangers I’ve danced with at Shooters. Or don’t, because its zero). I’m getting better in most of these areas (except probably the dancing), I still have a ways to go. But that’s not important. What’s important is that now that I’ve written my requisite exposition and character development, I can promise you all that the next blog post with be full of excitement and action.

Freshman Christmas Again (Also, How I Became an Ally)

Somehow, it doesn’t feel like winter break is starting today for me. Maybe it’s the fact that I just got out of my last final, a math exam, and am too exhausted to consider anything else, or the fact that instead of running out of class with all my friends and going home for a Christmas party, I get to go back to my room and clean the pig sty it has become. But whatever it is, whenever my family calls me to ask what I want for Christmas, I’m at an utter loss of what to say-Christmas? Already? It seems like a foreign concept, since I’ve spent too much time in Gothic Wonderland and not enough in Winter Wonderland. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like I’ve forgotten Christmas exists, but it doesn’t feel like the latter half of December used to-a buzz and carols in the air, everyone being nicer to each other than usual, freezing cold weather, wondering if for once, it would maybe be a white Christmas in the south, excitedly discussing with my sisters and friends the number of days left until break and what we would do with that precious two weeks off, and all those ridiculous themed school projects we had to do before winter break…in some ways, I’m not that shocked I’ve forgotten what time of year it is.

A bunch of people I know tend to lament the fact that, near Christmas, they’re the exact same way they were the year before. I don’t think that’s been the case for me ever since I was in middle school. Some things about me will probably never change-despite many years passing, I’m still a Legend of Zelda geek, I still love soccer and horseback riding, and South Park has yet to stop being hilarious. I still walk around barefoot whenever possible, and I don’t think I’ll ever be half as girly as most girls. But I know I’ve seen myself change a lot in the past four and a half years. I’ve gotten a little bit taller, a whole lot smarter, and a lot more outgoing (maybe a bit more outgoing than some of my friends would like!). And, admittedly, I think my heart has changed in many ways.

I’m not exactly proud to say that at the beginning of high school, I didn’t approve of people being gay. I didn’t think it was right, in any universe, to allow gay marriage, and being gay in itself was worthy of damnation. If you had told me I’d willingly attend BDU, base my Writing 20 final paper on relating gay marriage and the integration movement, and would gladly assist with passing out shirts at Coming Out Day (and wear one), I would have thought you were absolutely insane-partially because I never would have thought I could get into Duke, but also because I couldn’t see myself taking such a controversial stance on a topic that inevitably started flame wars no matter where you turned back home.

That all changed one day at school. Seeing one of the only openly bisexual (closest you get back home to being gay) people in my school being bullied by a pack of teenagers struck a chord with me. I spent seven years being the bullied one for not being like the other girls, but I had never been the bully. No, I had resolved never to stoop to that level, knowing what it had done to me. Those people tormenting that poor kid were definitely bullies. And I was no better than them, if I thought the way they did. Loving your neighbor didn’t mean that convoluted thing we had been taught at private school-love the people who are like you and show everyone else tough love by refusing to associate with them and not letting them do what you think is wrong-but something else entirely. It meant accepting other people, period. And that was for everything-race, religion, sex, age…and sexual orientation, I realized that day.

I wish I could say that was also the day I learned just how effective an uppercut to the jaw could be, but that day wouldn’t come until 10th grade in a soccer match. At the very least, though, it was the beginning of a process of undoing all the things I had been forced to believe for a part of my life. Over the course of a year, I learned not only to accept the LGBT community and its allies, but also people of other religions and backgrounds by extension of that knowledge. In a way, high school saved me from going absolutely insane because I learned to accept myself, too, even if I wasn’t like the other girls. And it also opened a number of doors to me-including the courage I needed to attend that first BDU meeting back at the beginning of the semester.

So, as a freshman once again, I know I’m a much different person than I was the last time I was a freshman at Christmas. As opposed to the cynicism and cold shoulder I presented to the world as a freshman in high school, now, I’m only like that once in a blue moon. If I’m not content, I’m positively overjoyed with being alive-just ask my friends. I like to think it’s because I’ve learned to judge less and love more, something that started all those years ago when that bisexual kid got bullied. If I hadn’t realized what I did on that day, I don’t know where I’d be today (but probably not anywhere near as amazing). Maybe that’s why I can’t think of what I want for Christmas-I’ve found something so much better than anything my family could ever possibly hope to buy for me. And, cheesy and overrated as it is, I guess that’s what Christmas is really about…love and joy.

Is there anybody out there?

[Editor's note: Please welcome our newest writer, Julian, to the blog!]

“Is there anybody out there?” yells Chris Martin at the beginning of Coldplay concerts. I can share in the eccentric and self conscious question, both as a musician and slightly-out-of-place Brit in a now-larger world.

Music critics tend to criticize Coldplay as being too middle-of-the-roadsy. Not as soft as acoustic feel-good artists like Jack Johnson. Not as hard as their edgy South England counterparts Muse. And I think for the same reason, I’ve had trouble figuring out what my identity is, as one of the middle-of-the-roaders – I was born in England to Chinese parents, but spent the majority of my life in the United States. I sound British, look Chinese, and act American, roughly speaking. I can be pretty indecisive (or maybe I’m not), yet I’m completely obsessed with music, Lost and running, among other things. And the reason I’m on this blog - I am bisexual.

The problem with being in the middle of the road is that all of us are guilty of only seeing one road. A certain chum of mine once told me that she is sexually attracted to none, and romantically attracted to any. Being the dense block I am, my knee jerk reaction was, “having her cake and eating it too eh?” But rather, she’s just on different ends of different roads, because it’s illogical to lump your preferences into one linear item. Speaking of myself, I find myself somewhat more attracted to females than I am to males sexually, but equally romantically. But being in the middle of the road is a completely valid identity.

A friend once asked, “Does that create like jealousy issues if you’re dating a girl or what?” I prefer not to toot my own horn (or use clichés [or speak in parentheses]), but I think my response is as good as any, “If I’m dating you, then that means I picked you over twice as many people.”

So what if Coldplay isn’t a soft downy blanket of acoustic guitars or a spear-tipped wall of noise? So what if I haven’t yet figured out what I want or what I believe yet? I am living my life as I believe it is meant to be, and in my case, and I believe many others, there is no compromise or hypocrisy in being who and what I am. Though I do have to apologize for making this post more about Coldplay than me. Expect more of this.

[Pictured above is me and my best friend from back home in the San Francisco Bay Area, Andres. Back in a smaller world, we were part of the Jolly Green Giants.]

Familial Equilibrium

This post is going to be more of a story than my previous posts, so bear with me if it’s a little boring. I’m not very good at emotional revelations, but enough avoiding the point, time (as the wise Graham Chapman always said) to “get on with it”.

I was one of the people that was always out of the closet. In fact, until my senior year of high school I wasn’t even aware that there was a closet to come out of. Once I had settled my own mind on the matter (enough to be sure that I was in fact bisexual and not just a bit curious), I decided that I had to tell my parents. Of course I knew that this was technically not my responsibility to share if I didn’t want to, but my parents and I have a very open relationship so I really wanted to tell them. Also I kind of assumed that they would provide a solid support base for me as they had always told me that they would love me no matter what.

Well, as you may be gathering, it didn’t exactly go like that. My mother was a bit confused at first and had no idea what to say, which even though it was pretty awkward was pretty understandable. My father’s reaction, though it wasn’t explicitly negative, was not at all supportive. In the couple of weeks after I came out he expressed various concerns to me and told me a number of things that nobody who is trying to adjust to their new (and fluid) identity wants to hear.

I’m going to go through some of the main ideas and outline my issues with them, though it might seem a bit obvious:

“I’m worried about you coming out in college. It’s a place to reinvent yourself and I don’t want you to get labeled as the queer kid.”

Ok, yeah of course college is a place to reinvent yourself, but what if that reinvention is partly that I want to finally be myself? What if I want to be open about all parts of who I am, instead of hiding and repressing myself? And finally, I AM a queer kid. As my father I hoped that he would support me being myself. Oh, and as a follow up to this, he told me he wanted me to “really think about” whether I want to be a part of LGBT life here at Duke. I did, and you can see what I decided.

“Being openly LGBT could really ruin your job prospects.”

This one’s pretty simple. I know that. Also, I’m just entering college. I don’t need to hear about the various ways that who I am could ruin my life. Finally, I’m really not interested in working for a company that isn’t cool with me being Bi.

“But you don’t even like the flamboyant gays. And they make up the majority of the gay community, so they’ll also make up most of your male dating prospects. So why even bother?”

Firstly, don’t speak for me. Sure, I’m an introvert and don’t mix terribly well with extroverts, but that doesn’t mean I don’t like them. Secondly, false false false false FALSE! “Flamboyant” gays are not the only members of the gay community, there is such a wide spectrum of people in this community that such a demeaning generalization quite ignorant and offensive. Furthermore, even if I never actually meet a man I connect with (I’m not looking for one now), why does that mean my identity is irrelevant? Which leads into the next thing, a return from my previous post:

“You aren’t biactual, you’re bicurious. I don’t have to deal with it until you actually have a boyfriend. Then I’ll believe it.”

Ok, yeah. Because I would totally expose myself like this if it were just a curiosity. I understand the desire to dodge dealing with your own homophobia, but seriously? Don’t put that on me. Especially when I’m at my most vulnerable.

(After describing something as gay and me saying something): “What? You never used to get offended when I said these things. Do I have to change the way I live for you?”

Well actually, I was always offended when you said that kind of thing, I just never said anything because at first I just thought it was part of the common slang and then I thought it would be suspicious to say things against it. Yes, I do want you to change “the way you live” because its insulting and demeaning. But if you seriously consider that a part of the way you live, you have a serious problem. Changing offensive slang is not that hard. (I know this because you have changed how you speak recently)

Ok, so now for a little caveat. About a month ago my father sent me an email to tell me that he was very sorry about what he said and he finally realized how offensive this is. Ironically he made this realization while watching “some asshole from fox news” (<-direct quote from the email) talk about how Americans don’t realize that the homosexual agenda is the most dangerous short term threat to America. He said he got angry, and then realized how I must feel hearing the same kind of thing. Then, he made the jump from this guy on fox to some of the comments he made. So he decided to be the father I remember and apologized to me. Then he asked me to set up a meeting with Janie in the center so they could talk to someone about how to be supportive to me. I have to say, since the meeting on parents weekend they have been more than supportive. They’re everything I wanted them to be in the first place.

They’ve been great since. Really open and supportive, and most importantly they are willing to discuss LGBT issues with me. I had an email conversation with my father this week about my church’s stance on the LGBT community (You like how I foreshadow future posts?), a conversation that wouldn’t have happened even two months ago. My parents have finally adopted LGBT rights as human rights, as they now have a face to put with it. Mine. Judging by some of the statements made above, you can really see how far they’ve come. I guess this is my own little it gets better story. Life sure isn’t perfect, but it’s a hell of a lot better now that I’m not worried about coming home. Yeah I wish they had reacted more positively initially, but the world just isn’t that simple. So everybody out there who is worried about coming out to the parents: It’s really your choice, but if you’re confident in who you are and are sick of hiding it, the only way to get that acceptance or at least arrangement is to just come out. It might take a while, but eventually you’ll reach a comfortable place as long as you don’t burn any bridges.

Disclaimer: I know this isn’t applicable in all circumstances, like if your parents are extremely homophobic or your relationship with them isn’t very good. In that case, I’m certainly not pressuring you to do anything that might be dangerous or you’re uncomfortable with.

Can you see me now?

I am not gay. I am a boy who is attracted to and can fall in love with girls. I know this is a somewhat strange way to begin a blog post for our lives, but it is on this point that my post hinges. So you might be thinking, “What does this have to do with LGBT issues?” Well, as an answer to this question I will also say this, I am not straight. I am a boy who is attracted and can fall in love with other boys. If this first paragraph confuses you, please read on, this post is for you.

I am a bisexual male. I feel attraction to both genders, and have the capacity to form romantic relationships with both. One of the frustrations I have that I feel is unique to bisexuality is that as a bisexual you have a tendency to be “invisible”. What I mean by this is that people generally assume that you are either straight or gay, never in between. If I’m talking about a boy I like, I’m gay. If I’m talking about a girl I like, I’m straight. I will tell you, these misconceptions are very annoying. The same problem applies to the spaces I occupy.

Back at home, I was straight. There was no question about that. Granted, I was single for most of high school, but that didn’t matter. Though I only started to discover myself in my senior year of high school, by the end of the school year this was bothering me. It didn’t really help matters that I had a girlfriend. Even after I told my parents that I was bisexual, I was still straight. My dad actually told me once, “You aren’t really bisexual. I mean, you have a girlfriend and you haven’t dated or slept with a boy. So really, you’re bicurious, not biactual.” Now spellcheck is telling me that the words “bicurious” and “biactual” are not real words. Well, that’s because they’re complete loads of (words I can’t say on this blog). The fact that I haven’t actually slept with a boy has no bearing on the attraction I feel. But I am on the edge of a tangent, and that is a post for another day.

Here at Duke I seem to have the opposite problem. Since the atmosphere here is much more accepting and queer friendly, I’ve found the strength to come out and not hide who I am. The problem is, people don’t seem to understand who I am. Though I still do have to deal with the expectation of heterosexuality, at Duke I have been mistaken for gay several times as well. I do understand how I could be a bit misleading as I have a rainbow bracelet I wear daily, I fly a rainbow flag from my window, and I spend my free time on West Campus in the LGBT Center. This doesn’t change the fact that it bothers me to be constantly misread. I mean, how does one show that they are bisexual? Short of walking up to a boy and planting a kiss on him, then turning to a girl and doing the same, how can I avoid being misinterpreted? I do wear a bisexual pride necklace, but most don’t know what it is. (For the record, it’s pink, purple and blue. Ask me about it and I’ll show you, or use the magic of the internet.)

Though these misconceptions bother me a bit, I’m generally loath to speak up about it. Though I cringe when I get lumped into the “gay” category, I don’t like to speak up for fear of being annoying. I’m generally better about speaking up when lumped into the “straight” category, but that doesn’t happen to me as much anymore. (It’s a wonder what a rainbow or two can do) Contrary to some beliefs that I’ve heard, being bi is not “half-gay”. We are a completely distinct orientation, nuanced and varied like any other. It is time that we are seen.

(I understand that I haven’t really given an idea to avoid bisexual invisibility, because I’m honestly not sure. Any ideas would make awesome comments *hint hint*.)

Southern Hospitality

[Editor's note: Here at the BDU Blog we feel fortunate that Our Community (OC, anyone?) grows each year...mostly because it means we get new blog writers :-P just kidding! just kidding! Really, though, please welcome Kyle and stay tuned for more new faces in the next week. We're glad to have you!]

As a first year student here at Duke, one is always faced with some complicated choices. The first couple of weeks on campus are filled with a sort of identity crisis, where everybody struggles to create the beginnings of what person they want to be (or be known as) at Duke. As I’m sure many LGBTQ people would be able to relate to, I had another dimension to this decision. As a bisexual male, I had many options available to me, and I was unsure about which would be the best to take. Do I take my father’s advice and closet myself? Do I not go out of my way to act straight, but avoid affiliation with the LGBTQ community? Do I come out?

During Orientation Week, I decided to go to a few of the LGBTQ events that were being held for freshmen. These were nice, and I met cool people, but I’m substantially awkward in the initial phase of meeting people, so I didn’t really connect with the place. Then on the first Thursday of classes a friend and I decided to see how hard it would be to pull that most venerated of college traditions, (no, not beer pong) the all-nighter! We discovered at about 6:00 the next morning that this was not a fantastic idea. (Especially considering I had five classes that day) After my first class, I remembered that the LGBT Center had comfortable looking couches. Half asleep, I stumbled through the doors and mumbled a question, “Do you mind if I sleep on that couch?” The person (Jess, I believe) who answered just smiled and said, “Sure, that’s fine.”

Though this seems like a pretty minor thing, when I woke up I realized just how comfortable I was in the center. I wasn’t nervous. I didn’t feel the need to watch my mannerisms; I didn’t think people were “figuring me out”. I hadn’t experienced comfort like that since I discovered my bisexuality at the end of last year. That prompted me to go to a Blue Devils United meeting, which then prompted me to attend a blog meeting… so here I am!

So here I am, but who am I? To give you a little idea of who exactly it is that’s rambling at you through though the internet, here’s a brief overview of me. I absolutely adore music, though not mainstream music. I tend to gravitate towards the more unique stuff, and I have the biggest crush on Damon Albarn of anyone you will ever meet. If you aren’t sure who I’m talking about, look him up. One of my favorite things to do is act, especially in comedies. (stereotypical, I know) My other love is philosophy. I enjoy taking some quiet time every now and then to read works of fiction and philosophy and then simply thinking about them. As such, I imagine many of my posts will have some sort of philosophical tone. I also like to design and build things. I am a potential biomedical engineering major. I have desire to get some other certification as well (I waffle between a second major in philosophy or a double minor in theater studies and philosophy). I’m not terribly athletic, nor am I at all religious, so I won’t be a very good resource for readers with any of the potential issues that accompany those. That said, I’d welcome any conversation from people reading this blog.

A brief overview of my “queer story”, as it were, is as follows. I live in an area where LGBTQ discourse and activism is rare and very small scale when it happens. I spent most of my life assuming I was straight because I wasn’t aware of other possibilities. Around November/December of my senior year of high school, I began to discover myself. From there on I’ve been dealing with my sexuality, trying to peel away the layers of repression and internalized homophobia. I’m doing pretty well (as evidenced by me writing this blog post), but I still have a ways to go. Anybody who relates to this situation, or even anyone who just likes some of the things that I like, I’d love to hear from you. If you see me on campus, feel free to say hi. You’ll know me by my fauxhawk.

Until next time,

Kyle

Indifferent

Before leaving college in the spring, I promised myself I’d come out to my parents again. I felt like I needed to. I didn’t want to come home and feel suffocated and unlike myself—not closeted, but certainly not as comfortable as I felt at Duke.

When I came out to my parents those years ago, we never got a chance to talk about what it would mean for me or for our family. They didn’t want to talk about it, and I’m ashamed to say I didn’t either. For reasons unknown, “bisexual” didn’t make sense to them and they didn’t want to talk about their daughter “being repulsed by men” and being a lesbian. So, we didn’t talk. I’d never had much of a talking relationship with my parents anyway; what we didn’t talk about didn’t exist.

But I did grow comfortable with myself and I did find the idea of talking to them about something that would eventually be important to me somewhat necessary. No, I wouldn’t speak to them in detail about these things, but I’d bring certainty into a topic that has been uncertain amongst us for about 3 years now. “Yes, mom, I like women. No, dad, I don’t hate men. I like them too.“ That’s all I really wanted to say.

Now I see, despite these years of my growing ease and sorting through feelings that I was never sure about, I can safely say with my comfort has come discomfort. All that I wanted to say to my parents has still stayed the same, but it’s not enough. I know for a fact it won’t be enough; not for them, and not for anyone but myself. I’m not bisexual. I’m not a lesbian and I’m certainly not straight. I’ve known this for years now. I spent the past year in college trying to figure everything out, and it’s all been in vain. I settled into a shell of asexuality but even doubt if that’s right for me. Biromantic is the only thing that seems accurate. But romantic attraction is easy to figure out and it doesn’t help the insecurities I feel when I’m attempting a relationship with someone, treading the unknown with physicality and that realm of sexual connection I have trouble justifying with purpose.

What if I’m asexual? What if I’m demisexual? What if I’m gray-asexual? What does that really matter? Again, I find myself shedding the labels that merely serve to confuse me and complicate what I find to be a very simple existence. And I tend to stick to what is simple. I used to think that, in general, I was a very indecisive person. I see now that I know what I don’t want, and beyond the scope of what I don’t want, I’m not too picky—I’m indifferent. And that’s how I am with dating most times. No, I don’t want to be Forever Alone, but I can’t bring myself to put romantic relationships above the other wonderful things life has to offer. It is this way of thought that probably led to my solidarity with the asexual/aromantic community, during my identity crisis (this sounds a bit melodramatic) a few months ago. This doesn’t mean I don’t want to be in a relationship, it means that I see the world as it is, uncertainties and all.

If only it were as easy as telling my parents, “I’m indifferent.”

"Available."

[Author's Note: This was a year of tremendous personal growth for me. I started talking with those closest to me about my sexuality. After 10 months of talking in hushed-tones and strict confidentiality, I am finally writing for the blog about my personal experiences, past and present. Throughout this process, writing has been a really helpful outlet for me. Some things have changed since I wrote this, and other posts that I will publish soon but that I also wrote in the past. Other things have stayed the same. Regardless, the following post speaks directly to how I felt at the time that I wrote it (mid semester, Spring 2011). I will not be modifying my writings to reflect my current state of mind. Rather, I will denote when posts are backdated and will offer more current reflections in other columns. Finally, I wish to thank those who have been my confidantes along the way. There is no way that I could be posting on the BDU Blog about this without our many conversations and your unwavering support.]

I was talking with a good friend who is a little older than me. She was “out” to me, and frequently updated me with the latest in her relationships with other women, though I wasn’t really sure how she identified, specifically: bi, lesbian, queer, something else? So when she told me that she was considering dating some “dudes,” and we’d never discussed her dating men past high school and coming out, it seemed like a situation in which I could comfortably and appropriately ask her about the nuances of her sexual orientation. Her response? “Available.” She didn’t know it at the time, but that one word just made so much sense to me. In fact, if you pressed me today to “choose a label! You have to pick something!,” that’s probably what I’d tell you. I’m available.

What’s it mean to be “available?” I’d say that it’s…

• …sort of like what others conceive of as bisexual, but it expresses the fact that my “sexuality” is more about philosophy and less about sex (read: not really about sex, at all).

• …sort of like being pansexual, which is philosophically and semantically different from people who identify as bisexual and therefore takes care of the part where “my ‘sexuality’ is more about philosophy,” but it doesn’t adequately express the part where my ‘sexuality’ is, paradoxically, not really about sex.

You might also understand it as being…

• …sort of like being hetero- or homo-flexible, without the hetero- or homo- prefixes (see below for an explanation…and see above about the part where my sexuality isn’t really about sex).

I know, now you’re really lost.

So, here’s the philosophy part: I’m not “gender blind,” but you could probably say that I am “gender apathetic.” I just don’t really give a fuck care if you’re a man or a woman or queer or trans or feminine or masculine or what. Basically, as I see it, gender is confining and I don’t want it to limit me when I choose with whom I want to spend the rest of my life. I want to like and fall in love with a person—not a gender.

Sometime ago, an anonymous post (to which I had a very visceral reaction) asked why more out people don’t show their “interested in” on facebook (see #4). I have a lot of thoughts about this and loved the debate that got going in the comment section, but for right now, I’ll say this: I’m not interested in women, interested in men, or interested in men and women, as my facebook options may be. Rather, I’m interested in people. If you’re an amazing person, I want you in my life.

That’s why it’s sort of like being “heteroflexible” or “homoflexible.” In fact, if I still identified as straight, I’d definitely qualify my being straight with also being heteroflexible. Except that I can’t, right now, tell you whether I would choose the word which emphasizes the “hetero” or “homo” part. Which is where the sex part comes in…

The sex part: To determine which prefix to add to the word “flexible,” I’d have to be able to (and willing to?) identify what gender I was primarily attracted to.

I know we were all basically raised under the following two tenets: one being that two plus two equals four and the other being that “we are all sexual beings” (that’s why we have sex ed in the fifth grade, right? “DON’T HAVE SEX NOW. But someday when you’re married, you will, because that’s what people do when they are married.”)

Well, while two plus two will ALWAYS equal four (this is Duke, which means that some smart math major will probably correct me in the comment section, but roll with it, folks) some of us are more sexual than others, and I’ve found that I’m not really attracted to people, almost ever. And there are 101 reasons why this might be my situation (some more personal than others), and it very well may change, but for now, that’s how it is.

Which comes back to the reason that the labels bisexual and pansexual make me uncomfortable. It isn’t out of some internalized bi-phobia, but rather because the emphasis of the words is on sex, and for better or for worse (I’m, unfortunately, often convinced that it’s for worse), that just isn’t my experience.

Perhaps asexual is the correct way to express where I’m at? But, I’m not really convinced that that sums it up, either. For one, I’ve had crushes before—just not recently (read: a long time). And, I (albeit very rarely) have fleeting moments of feelings for people. Finally, it’s not something I’m super comfortable with.

During the moment when my friend identified as available, she made it sound so simple. The fact that we talked for two hours more, though, confirmed for me what I already knew from my own personal experiences: getting to where we both are today is a long, uncomfortable, and really personal journey with approximately 12318023 barriers along the way.

Bisexuals: Greedy and Selfish/Labels

On two different occasions I’ve been told that bisexuals are greedy and selfish. Let me clarify, I’ve been told that I am greedy and selfish. One of the statements was made out of malice while the other was a reflection of someone’s ignorance. In either case, I was pissed.

I’ve never viewed my bisexuality to mean that my attraction to men and women is split 50-50. I know that I tend to be more attracted to men than to women. I also know that I have standards (like most people, duh) for partners of both sexes and thus my dating pool is limited significantly. Greedy and selfish implies that I want everyone. No mam/no sir. I look for specific qualities in my partners just like the misled/rude people who made these assumptions about my sexuality.

This common misconception that people who identify as bisexual are attracted to everyone they meet is ridiculous. It is no wonder that sometimes people choose not to “label” themselves because they fear the stereotypes attached to said label. Media tends to portray faux lesbianism as this erotic fantasy or peg lesbian women as men-haters. Bisexual women can also fall into this fantasy category or that they are preying on the entire dating pool. I’ve heard guys make comments about being “homophobic” and avoiding gay males because they don’t want to be hit on. I wish they understood that these gay-identified males that they fear so much don’t want them…at all. In other words, they have taste and standards and are not worried about some of these unkempt, varsity male athletes with undeserving egos. (Minor rant…sorry).

Anyways, I have a challenge to us all (LGBTQ community, allies, and questioning folks alike): Don’t let comments like these go unchallenged. You never know who is around listening and wishing that someone would defend them. You never know who you might be helping to come out/be comfortable with their identity by standing up to ignorance.

As long as one’s identity stems from truth and understanding of the self, it should be embraced. We should all be helping each other embrace our identities daily against those that just don’t get it. The struggle is hard and unfair…but it ours.

LGBTQ Female Role Models: Alice Walker

“I think it pisses God off if you walk by the color purple in a field somewhere and don't notice it." -The Color Purple

I started to write this blog post on Alice Walker, and then I realized that I had never actually read any of her works; I had only heard of her through feminism that I had read. (Fun feminist fact: Walker was an editor for Ms. magazine in the 70s.) I didn't really feel comfortable with the realization that I hadn't read her actual work; if Alice Walker is one of the most famous LGBTQ female authors alive today, why haven't I read anything of hers? That didn't sit well with me.

So, earlier last week, I picked up Alice Walker's most famous novel at Perkins Library and sat down to read The Color Purple.

The Color Purple was written in 1982, and Walker won the Pulitzer Prize for it in 1983 (she was the first black woman to win this award, as well as the National Book Award in the same year). The story chronicles the life of a young black woman living in an impoverished community of rural Georgia in the 1930s.

As I was researching the book, I learned that it was one of the "100 Most Frequently Challenged Books" due to the fact of its explicit mention of violence. But there's no doubt about it, that what Walker describes in her novel is definitely real. Domestic violence and child abuse are a part of Walker's novel because they are a part of life, and that's something I actually found myself very much appreciating about her work; her style of writing is so real and accessible:

[Note on the below quote: "Mr _____" is the husband that Celie has no choice but to marry, and "fixed" refers to Celie's infertility.]

Pa said to Mr_______, She ugly. But she no stranger to hard work. And she clean. And God done fixed her. You can do everything just like you want to and she ain’t gonna make you feed it or clothe it.

I take out the picture of Shug Avery. I look into her eyes. Her eyes say Yeah, it bees that way sometime.

Something else that I appreciated was the way Walker approaches the bisexuality (or perhaps, lesbianism?) of her characters. The theme of same-sex attraction is just so well articulated in The Color Purple. Same-sex attraction isn't gross; it isn't unnatural. It's literally the best thing that happens to her [the protagonist]:

Shug Avery was a woman. The most beautiful woman I ever saw. She more pretty than my mama. She bout ten thousand times more prettier than me....I ast [the woman] to give me the picture. An all night long I stare at it. An now when I dream, I dream of Shug Avery.. She dress to kill, whirling an laughing.

Shug Avery standing upside a piano, elbow crook, hand on her hip. Lord I wants to go [with her] so bad. Not to dance. Not to drink. Not to play card. Not even to hear Shug Avery sing. I just be thankful to lay eyes on her.

I found the book to be beautifully crafted. I'm particularly impressed by the way Walker uses simple, unflowerly language to capture some of the deepest of human expression that I've ever read. She is truly a genius writer:

I feel bad sometimes Nettie done pass me in learnin. But look like nothing she says can git in my brain and stay.

She try to tell me something bout the ground not being flat. I just say, Yeah, like I know it.

I never tell her how flat it look to me.

The strength of Walker's characters would seem to parallel instances from her own life as well. When Walker was a child she had an accident that left her blind in one eye. Later, thanks to medical advances, she was able to gain sight in it again, but it forever impacted the way she viewed the world. She wrote that it "helped her to really see people and things, to notice relationships and to learn to be patient enough to care about how they turned out."

If you're interested in Alice Walker's work, particularly on black feminism, you might also like to check out Tyler Perry's film, For Colored Girls, while it's currently in theaters. (I saw it this past weekend and was glad that I did.) The playwright, Ntozake Shange, is Alice Walker's contemporary, and wrote the play in 1975 around the same time of The Color Purple. (There's also a dialogue with the African and African-American studies department tonight, at 7pm in the Mary Lou.)

My Sexuality: What it Doesn't Mean for YOU

[Ed. Note: This is our new blogger Xan, Everyone :) Aaaand I'm pretty sure this is my favorite post intro ever.]

While this is my first time writing for the blog—and perhaps this is not the best way to start out—I cannot help but be 100% me. Always. That being said, I write about what I feel, what I know, and about what I think. So excuse me for ranting. I’m sorry. Now let’s move on.

For the past two weeks I’ve been feeling very objectified. Perhaps it’s been my rainbow wristband or my “Love = Love” shirt, but I’ve been receiving a lot of questions about my sexual orientation. My response? Yes I’m bi…what’s it to you? After the look of excitement in their eyes simmers down, these straight males try and play it off. Oh nothing, that’s cool. So…And then it begins. Their limited range of understanding starts searching for the “advantage”. How can this new information be of use to them?

Little do they know, it’s of no use at all. I know heterosexual geared pornography tells straight men that lesbians and bi-sexuals simply live to fulfill their erotic dreams BUT for some reason I thought Duke would breed men of higher intellectual caliber. Apparently not.

However, it isn’t just straight males. I was asked to “hook up” (which I confess I have no idea what that really means) by a female I had known for a short 5 days. This made me wonder if we (we being non-heterosexual women) help perpetuate this negative concept of fluidity. I was really offended by the request and it reminded me of the falsely confident straight men who had the nerve to ask…So would you ever have a threesome. My response? For all those who care to know, I have made a quick list of things that my sexuality does NOT mean for others:

1. I am NOT an outlet for your sexual fantasy
2. I am NOT an easy sexual target
3. I am NOT promiscuous
4. I am NOT a hook up

I hope you, however you identify, would agree and hold yourself to the same standards.

Nonentity- Consistently Falling Under the Radar

[In addition to all of our awesome visible and identifying columnists, we also have some awesome anonymous columnists that for one reason or another must use a pseudonym (and pseudopic?). Details on anonymous columnists here.]

“Bisexuality is a choice,” he said.

A choice? How?

Do gay men choose to be attracted to men? Do lesbians choose to be attracted to women? If you asked them, I’m sure the majority would say, “No, I was born this way” or, “No, this isn’t a choice.” And I believe it isn’t. Why would anyone choose to be a minority? A minority often not respected by the whole, a minority struggling for rights and respect and acknowledgement. No, if anything there is nothing to gain (especially not in this day and age) from being gay, bi, lesbian, etc.

Bisexuality isn’t a way for me to be “gay, but less gay” than others, nor is it way for me to have a broader catalogue of selection, and it certainly isn't a way for me to be a slut and over-indulge in the carnal pleasures of life (in fact, I’m a strange combination of asexual and bisexual, mainly because I’m content without dating/relationships and do not actively seek them). I can’t give a reason for bisexuality, but to me it’s merely attraction to both men and women. The same way a heterosexual is attracted to the opposite sex and the same way a homosexual is attracted to the same sex. Perhaps it’s different for others. Perhaps other bisexuals chose to be the way they are, but I sure as hell didn’t. I’m just attracted to both men and women. I can’t explain how or why, but I am. Why can’t people just accept and acknowledge that?

Of course, I’m not expecting everyone to accept and acknowledge the fact that bisexuals exist. My parents… well, specifically my mom, is the kind of person I’d expect this sort of shallow thinking from. She’s convinced that the only two lesbians she knows—who are a couple—are just playing some sort of game and aren’t really into one another and are looking for husbands even though they live together and are raising a son… Yeah, shallow thinking. I wasn’t expecting much from her granted where and how she was raised (I’ll save the topic of my family for another post).

My parents, together, weren’t too accepting of me when I came out to them. I couldn’t really read them at the time and we never talked about it after that night. I was too surprised/shocked to bother with wondering about what they really thought and they were too confused. Why? Because I had said the word “bisexual”. They spent the majority of the time trying to figure out why I “was repulsed by men” (their words, not mine. I like men!) and it didn’t take me long to realize they didn’t believe bisexuality existed. I felt cornered with nowhere to go—at a loss—and there was no way I was going to tell them I was borderline asexual. I knew coming out to my parents needed to be handled swiftly and simply and I wasn’t going to complicate matters and prolong the event.

I haven’t really run into this topic again until coming to Duke. My roommate even explained to me her difficulty in grasping bisexuality when we discussed it and I’m not too sure she even believes that bisexuals exist. I sometimes wonder what she really thinks I am, but I don’t really care much. And then again, this hit me at the first BDU meeting, when Stranger-I-Didn’t-Know was asking those attending what they identified as. She asked if there were gays, lesbians, and transsexuals, (and probably more, but my memory is terrible) attending the meeting, leaving out bisexual. And then asked later, “Those who didn’t raise their hands, what do you identify as?” And then, it happened again this final time when a gay male friend of mine was talking to my roommate about homosexuality. His tirade about how “bisexuality was a choice”…

I don’t know. Maybe I’m looking too hard into this. It’s easier to notice (and perhaps extrapolate) prejudice when you fall into the minority. Maybe it’s nothing. Maybe others see the same opposition around and I should just ignore it. I’m not mad about their opinions and disbelief, just perplexed by it and curious as to whether other bisexuals have experienced the same thing; people constantly disregarding their sexuality. Whatever the case, I am what I am. I’m bisexual (for lack of a better blanket term); bisexuals do exist.

Queer women in literature: Virginia Woolf (1882-1941)

[Small spoiler note: I tried not to include any huge spoilers about the plot of Mrs. Dalloway, but I did include a few excerpts about the relationship between Clarissa and Sally Seton.]

This semester I decided to take my first English class at Duke, and so I signed myself up for “English131S: Topics in a Single British Author – Virginia Woolf”.

I have to admit that I signed up for the class because I knew Virginia Woolf was a feminist and a queer woman. As someone who wrote openly about her relationships with women and men, Virginia Woolf has been retrospectively labeled as a bisexual author of the early 20th century. Our instructor, Professor Sarah Nuttall, confirmed this fact, noting that Woof’s relationships with women are extremely well documented, particularly one with Vita Sackville-West, a fellow English author and poet.

Both Vita Sackville-West and Virginia Woolf were members of a literary circle called the Bloomsbury Group, which discouraged sexual exclusivity. The two married women had a long romantic affair, and Woolf’s novel Orlando (1928) was later called “the longest and most charming love-letter in literature” (according to Vita Sackville-West’s son). Published in 1928, Orlando was considered one of her best novels and is a story about a young man who awakens one day to find himself in a woman’s body.

Anyone looking to read about lesbian, bisexual or transgender women in early 20th century literature should definitely consider giving Virginia Woolf a try. While she’s not the most accessible author (she drops key moments in her plots between parentheses and in the middle of long-winded descriptive paragraphs), her stylistic qualities make her worth all of the effort.

Having just finished Mrs. Dalloway for this class, I can easily say that Woolf’s depiction of the relationship between Clarissa Dalloway and Sally Seton is by far the most eloquent romantic relationship between two women that I have ever read about in fiction. Within the first thirty pages of the novel, the protagonist, Clarissa Dalloway remarks on her wondrous relationship with a woman:

“Yet [Clarissa] could not resist sometimes yielding to the charm of a woman, not a girl, of a woman confessing, as to her they often did. And whether it was pity, or their beauty, or that she was older-like a faint scent, or a violin next door (so strange is the power of sounds at certain moments), she did undoubtedly then feel what men felt. Only for a moment; but it was enough. It was a sudden revelation. Then, for that moment, she had seen an illumination."

When I first read this paragraph in Woolf’s novel, I was floored. I felt like I could have written this-not in terms of the quality, but the context. It seemed very similar to my own coming out experience, or perhaps anybody's:

"The strange thing, on looking back, was the purity, the integrity, of her feeling for Sally. It was not like one’s feeling for a man. It was completely disinterested, and besides, it had a quality which could only exist between women, between women grown up…the charm was overpowering, to her at least, so that she could remember standing in her bedroom at the top of the house holding the hot-water can in her hands and saying aloud, ‘She is beneath this roof…She is beneath this roof!'"

Perhaps something equally remarkable about Mrs. Dalloway, is that it was a best-seller. I had no idea that a novel published in England in 1925 with prominent same-sex romance throughout the work (5 of the main characters are implied to be LGBT) would be so well-received by the public at the time. Today the book is still immensely popular, making TIME magazine's 2005 Top 100 novels list. I have to wonder what kind of political or social undercurrents the novel might have brought with its publication, considering the equality it demands for same-sex romantic attraction:

"But nothing is so strange when one is in love (and what was this except being in love?) as the complete indifference of other people."

Equally exciting about the novel is that it is highly affirmative of same-sex relationships between women. The stereotypical portrayal of LGBTQ women in older literature is that if lesbians do exist (which they rarely do), one or both of them ends up depressed, desolate or dead. Nevertheless, Woolf’s portrayal of Clarissa Dalloway’s relationship with Sally is largely positive, perhaps more so even than any of Clarissa's relationships with men:

"All this was background for Sally. She stood by the fireplace, talking, in that beautiful voice which made everything she said sound like a caress. Suddenly she said, ‘What a shame to sit indoors!’ and they all went out on to the terrace and walked up and down. Peter Walsh and Joseph Breitkopf went on about Wagner."

And of course…it’s just beautifully depicted as well:

"She and Sally fell a little behind. Then came the most exquisite moment of her whole life passing a store urn with flowers in it. Sally stopped; picked a flower; kissed her on the lips. The whole world might have turned upside down! The others disappeared; there she was alone with Sally. And she felt that she had been given a present, wrapped up, and told just to keep it, not to look at it – a diamond, something infinitely precious, wrapped up, which, as they walked (up and down, up and down), she uncovered, or the radiance burnt through, the revelation, the religious feeling!"

Personally I think that if you want to read empowering literature about LGBTQ women in fiction, reading Virginia Woolf if you haven't already is a great idea. I had actually tried to read Mrs. Dalloway two different times before this class, and I always stopped by page 10 or 20 because she's really difficult to get into. ("Plot" isn't her main focus-description is.) For me, being in this class and knowing ahead of time that Woolf writes equally about same and opposite sex attraction was a huge motivator to get through the novel.

"But this question of love, this falling in love with women. Take Sally Seton; her relation in the old days with Sally Seton. Had not that, after all, been love?”

Anonymous Posts (5.17.10-5.23.10)

Every week, we collect anonymous entries sent in using the link on our sidebar and post them all on Monday. We post anything as long as it doesn't contain personal attacks or hate speech. Feel free to submit your thoughts and questions :)

This summer continues to be The Summer of Chris as I spend more and more days not doing civil engineering at the HRC. For those curious about what a typical day is like, when I get there in the morning, I first do not design a sidewalk. Then, just before lunch, I do not design and mix a batch of concrete. The rest of my day is spent not finding neutral axes.

It is truly a dream job.

After work today I met up with Vivi, who is The Greatest, and took her to this great Mexican restaurant I found this week called "Chipotle." I think a Glee party with the other Dukies may be in order tomorrow night. Community, come visit us!

Anyhow! Sorry these posts are up superlate today. I was busy fighting for my civil rights and those of millions of other people (clearly this job has not gone straight to my head).

#1

I am excited and I am anxious to begin my next four years at Duke. I have no desire to live life in the closet any longer. But easier said than done? How do I present myself to a new community as a gay member? Will I just become known as the gay kid? Perhaps if I wait until later, until people get to know. But then will I do? Can I tell them? And how much more time of my life will be spent as a lie? I am a straight acting guy, and no one really questions my sexuality. I have begun to wonder, however, if this is really who I am. Did society force me into this ideality of how a man should act? Did I shun my true self so far down into the darkness that I can't even recognize it? I am gay. I know that, but I have never said it. I cannot bring myself to say it, let alone to another person. I hope that at Duke I am able to live happily with myself, and discover my true identity.

On another note, not that this has been very linear, I have been considering that when (if?) I am an open gay man. How will I begin to see/date other gay men. Starting with my freshman year of high school, I had a "hook-up buddy". He was a year older than me and went to the same high school (he is actually the brother of my one best guy friend, which made for some interesting nights spent over there). We never really talked, just hooked up. I have never even kissed a guy; nor have I never had sex, but everything in between I suppose. I have never dealt with actually dating or getting to know a guy. I do want to hook up at Duke. I want to have fun and I want to meet people, but I feel like I won't know how to actually connect with someone. Does this make me superficial? Or just like any other college guy?

In short, I am confused. I am confused as to who I am and how I will live my life at Duke. This post has been a messy stream of consciousness with too many rhetorical questions, but I have never actually talked(or written) about this before. I just hope I can be happy with myself at Duke.

#2

Hi community,

You don’t know me yet, but you will soon, and I want to pick your brains.

First, I’m a woman, and I think I’m bi.

I think I accidentally dated a girl once, who I think was also bi, but wasn’t ready to go there. I mean when we stopped living together I called it a breakup… that was one of my first signs. (what timing). Also, it was a little complicated because I was engaged at the time, but when I started questioning and then realized that I’d been cheating on him, honest to God unknowingly, and with a woman, for several months, and he’s not a bad guy but also not particularly sympathetic with the LGBT community, well that broke down real fast.

I’m still questioning, but I think it’s a pretty good indication that sometimes I find myself thinking about kissing breasts while my boyfriend goes down on me. But what if I’m actually a lesbian? I don’t know. Honestly, I don’t know. I’ve blamed some confusing sexual reactions in my recent past to abuse in my far away past, and now I have no idea.

And I think I might need to spend some time with a girl to figure it out.

The problem is, I’ve been dating someone new and I really love him. We’ve recently moved in together and he is the most open and understanding ally I’ve ever met in my entire life, not to mention a smart and wonderful and loving person. I’m toying with the idea of forever. We’ve talked about my sexuality situation and he said he might be secure enough in our relationship a few months down the line to set me up with one of his bi/lesbian friends, but I don’t really believe him. I think he would do it but it would hurt him too much, honestly, and he is not by any means one of those guys like Katy Perry’s boyfriend who won’t take cheating as seriously if it’s between two women. (Thank God. Can we please stop supporting that, culture?) Anyway.

So, my questions to y’all are these:

Do you think you can know definitively about your sexual orientation without experience to back it up?

Even if you can know, is it important to get that experience?

Why can’t I stop thinking about it? Do you have any suggestions?

Love.

#3

So I’m approaching my month of being uncloseted! I’m so excited about this day approaching. To be honest after I came out I told my friends that I wanted a “Coming-Out” party! I still plan on making that happen and I want “I’m Coming Out” by Diana Ross to blast over the speakers. I just want to celebrate my accomplishment. I wrote my mom a letter, inspired by a friend’s letter to her mother, and I sent it to her over facebook. I kept asking myself as I was writing it, “Are you sure?” “Life will be changed after this forever”. I was also listening to “Listen” from Dream Girls. (I’ve yet to see the movie, but I love that song). My soul straightened up and said I’m coming out and I finished the letter. I even attempted to preemptively answer the questions that my mom would have at the end of the letter. I posted it and clicked “enviar” (send, my facebook is in Spanish). I was out. Well not right away my mom would have to read the letter..but several other things happened. I called my grandparents to let them know what I did, and my grandma pleaded that I told her I was kidding... I waited a day and my grandma went ahead and told my mom. While waiting this day, I told my friends what I had done, and received all of their support. I was out. No more hiding in closets...No more lying to mom about what I’m doing!! I can now be more specific about what I do at Duke! I felt free. My soul felt free. My entire being felt marvelous, amazing, alleviated, healed, repaired, liberated, astonished, amazed, shocked, scared, flustered, and incredulous! It was the most unique experience I’ve ever had in my life!! I’m out!!!!!!!!! I’m OUT!!! I’M OUT!!! I told myself this, and each time I felt like I was taken to a different level. My mom is now asking who I’m dating but I have a feeling she is telling all the family relatives, so now it is going to be awkward when they approach me and say...so I heard through the grapevine your gay. But lately my mother has been having conversations with me about the birds and the bees. She states, “When you were young you didn’t like suppositories or enemas, how do you think a man will be?” What she fails to understand is that, being a child, you don’t think of adults like that...well not at the age of 3 or 4. So that bothered me a bit that she was trying to rationalize my sexual preferences. But I told her same rules applied before I came out. I’m not telling you about my First nor what positions were tried. That’s gross mom, well gross to talk about with your own mother.

Eric Fürst

[In addition to all of our awesome visible and identifying columnists, we also have some awesome anonymous columnists that for one reason or another must use a pseudonym (and pseudopic?). Details on anonymous columnists here.]

I tend to squirm uncomfortably in my seat when someone inquires point blank about my sexuality, and not because I’m bashful. It’s just that I have to make a quick decision, and it usually depends on: how drunk I am, how long I want the conversation to last, and the hotness of the person asking. In some cases I’d rather be seen than heard. So yes I can be a Big Fucking Hypocrite. But beyond it all I’m trying to avoid using a word I find most unsavory—bisexual. Primarily, it wrongly supposes two standards of sexual expression apart from this intermediary. And then there’s that annoying idiom, that bisexuality is merely a way station for gayness. I heard a friend (entirely oblivious to my recent sexplorations) parrot this belief, and made a mental note to postpone any divulgence of the kind. And in my flirtations with the periphery of Duke’s LGBT community, I’ve been surprised to observe the wariness with which the “B” is tolerated; I sometimes feel that it’s given obligatory lip service for the sake of community but not necessarily true solidarity. I guess it’s difficult to embrace a sexual category comprised of participants who embrace categorical uncertainty.

This perception of bisexuals can be expressed in mainstream terms: straight people think they’re hiding something and gay people view them skeptically for not fully fulfilling (or maybe half-rejecting?) their gayness. If a straight man has sex with a man he is commonly considered gay, closeted, or bisexual. If a gay man has sex with a woman, is his sexuality questioned so?

I’m going to take some stabs at deconstructing this rationale. Kinsey may be an easier starting point but I think it’s a misunderstanding of the more complex social construction theories that lost popularity in the last two decades, as the gay rights movement surged and activism was badly needed as the AIDS crisis emerged. The threat that these views posed was misinterpreting sexual orientation as mere “preference.” If this was the case, the conservative opposition could dub homosexuality a choice. Then, what’s wrong with asking someone to choose different, especially if this gay option is so strongly correlated with the frightening emergence of a new disease? This idea of preference can be especially pungent when applied to bisexuality. One might assume that most bisexual men would rather—if their sexuality really was so subjective—spend their lives in a monogamous heterosexual relationship—the kind that allows identity conformity, minimized discrimination, greater sexual health, and of course, the possibility of natural procreation.

With subversion a more enlightening (or at least more daring) end than conformity, I’d probably be interested in a sexual regimen more strictly homosexual than heterosexual. But as it is, I’m happy to traipse through the nebulous grays, confusing some and delighting my own ADD tendencies. Still, it’s easy to envision adopting some monogamous gay lifestyle characteristics. I can think of several male friends with whom I wouldn’t mind signing a lease, and—perhaps unsurprisingly—I don’t exactly subscribe to the notion of heterosexual couples as the gold standard of child rearing. Yet, the thought of homosexual monogamy, from my point of view, is more restrictive than heterosexual monogamy is boring.

Anyway, construction theory doesn’t really discredit the validity of these singularly-oriented referents insofar as individuals derive personal meaning and community from them; it merely challenges the notion that this language actually defines something intrinsic in the way that physical characteristics are thought to be an expression of alleles coded intrinsically in one’s DNA. To me, sexuality hardly makes sense as a phenotype. Sexuality in its essence must account not only for intrinsic desires and orientations but also choices made on the basis of free will, which ultimately has a large stake in the gender of partners whom we seek to bed.

I would further counter that by discrediting this theory, you are not only embracing the mainstream gay rights movement, but also the rote categorization by which people dismiss, abuse, and misunderstand the deeds of others. It may be contrary to the simplicity of mantras like, “We’re here, we’re queer!”, but I think there’s an importance to understanding unconventional sexualities and resisting the compulsion to categorize. Even if one’s experience isn’t specifically covered by the LGBTQAI (etc) umbrella, in the end, it’s going to be phobias regarding otherness that drive policy and retard progress more than any pragmatic concern for the individual, or disease, or equality. For me, it’s an important exercise in unlearning the illusory differences and embracing a more dynamic conception of “self”—an exhilarating and exhausting work-in-progress with no foreseeable end.

So forgive me if, the next time I’m sitting with you in a bar, I try to avoid the word vomit above by just saying “I’m not straight”...it might mean that I think you’re cute.

—Eric Fürst

P.S. Please disagree with me. I’ve assumed an annoyingly didactic tone that I wouldn’t typically use in real life, in an effort to stoke some dissent.

Beyond "Lesbian" Fashion

“Forgive me father for I have sinned
I have broken the commandments of the fashion world
Shaming my LGBT brother, with his muscled body and one-of-a-kind tennis shoes
I am without direction, doomed to think impure thoughts
About what clothes I will buy and wear
A mullet atop my head
A flannel shirt and ill-fitting jeans loosely slung on my body”

When I told my mom I was going to write about lesbian fashion for the Our Lives blog she replied “Lesbian fashion? You’ll really be able to write a whole article about that?” My sweet mother is not exactly immersed in current fashion trends, because if she was she’d know that I could write an entire book about lesbian fashion. In the early 1990s K.D. Lang ushered in the era of “lesbian chic.” After that, a distinct “lesbian” style went mainstream. Now LGBT women are an integral part of the fashion world, whether as models, stylists, or fashion bloggers. Unfortunately certain ideals about beauty still persist. Masculine lesbians, no matter how dapper or handsome they are, still don’t get the same positive attention as glamorous fems. In my articles on fashion I will often focus on female masculinity, because I find masculine women as beautiful and fashionable as feminine women.

If you’ve ever seen me traipsing about campus you know fashion is something I have a passing interest in. My style is trendy though subtly androgynous. Though “keeping” up with richly dressed fellow Dukies is not an endeavor I’m proud of, my love of fashion extends beyond just looking like the typical Longchamp toting Duke girl.
I like to think that my style is guided by myriad sources, from street fashion blogs to magazines to music to different cultures. (Sometimes it's just by what I can find at used stores.)I also can’t forget how indebted I am to my fellow queer women. From them I have learned not to be too literally feminine or impractical in my fashion choices. I also learned not to wear clothing that overpowered me, or clothing that was trendy but unflattering. The desire to look good, whether by wearing clothing intended for men or for women, is a hallmark of “lesbian” fashion.

Short-haired, beautifully androgynous women are presented as the “ideal” face of lesbianism. These are the tombois, hipsters, rocker chicks and power lesbians. It’s no surprise that Ellen DeGeneres makes the cut in addition Kate Moennig, Beth Ditto, K.D. Lang, Jackie Warner, Kim Stoltz (!!!!), Joan Jett, Leisha Hailey and Samantha Ronson, What unites all these women? They wear men’s clothing, often in creative ways. Most have short hair. They wear suits, leather, bright colors, muted colors, ties, fedoras, sports-bras, sneakers, low-slung jeans…If fashion is all about contrast then these women are masters of the contrast between masculine and feminine. No gender expression can be overpowering.

Ever since YSL made the first woman’s suit, androgyny has been a fixture of women’s fashion. The right kind of androgyny is difficult to achieve; so difficult that lesbians have an unfortunate history of fashion mishaps. Lesbians are able to wear just about anything they want, from sensible shoes to skirts to camo cargo shorts, and as a result must choose their clothing with great caution. Men on the other hand must not only avoid wearing dresses, skirts and heels, they also have difficulty finding clothing that uses creative proportions or colors. Jean-Paul Gaultier first presented skirts for men in a show in 2006. Now men in skirts (along with men in tights) are common in fashion shows. Street fashion blogs often feature men in high heels and skirts carrying hangbags previously reserved for women. While the fashion world has become more accepting of men who boldly cross gender-lines in their attire, American cities, and especially Duke’s campus, are much less accepting.

If you’re a tomboy you probably have trouble finding clothing that fits. Men’s clothing hides your body while women’s clothing emphasizes it too much. Many fashion lines are now being crated that fill these needs. If you’re the fashion-conscious tomboy with loads of cash, check-out Made Me Clothing. Unbound Apparel sells gender-neutral t-shirts. Dykes In the City carries a wide range of clothing for masculine and queer women. While in our particular moment in time and place a woman in men's clothes in assumed to be a lesbian, masculine clothing choices were not always tied with queerness in America. Other cultures have different ideas about the relationship between gender expression and sexuality. I've noticed that East Asian culture is more accepting of avant-garde fashion for women and women that crosses gender boundaries. Just around Duke's campus I have seen more Asian women dress in men's clothing than any other ethnic group. On a campus where gender expression is severely limited, these women stand out to me.

If you’ve ever been to www.xxboys.net, watched an Athens Boys Choir video, or seen Lucas Sliveria of the band The Cliks, you know that transmen are a diverse and attractive bunch. One of the most important clothing items for pre-op or no-op transen are chest binders. Fun fact: Taiwan is leading the world in chest binder production. Queer and trans friendly sex shops tend to sell chest binders, and they are easily found online.

Though I don’t have trouble buying my clothes at non-specialty stores I have had problems with getting my hair cut correctly. I stopped going to cheap hair cutters because I would always get a tame, femmed up version of the hair I desired (even when I brought photographic evidence!) Bianca Jimenez was the first hairstylist I had who understood lesbian haircuts. I told her all my business. I even made her a mix CD of post-punk music! Then one day I called the salon and I was told that she had left. Dejected, I bounced around to different salons; even trying out the local Aveda before I finally came across Doo or Dye, unquestionably the only punk-rock hair salon in San Antonio. (Its motto: 110% pure Texas fury!) I’ve become so attuned to the minutiae of my desired hairstyle that I don’t think it matters who cuts my hair, as long as they aren’t hell-bent on femming me up.

I feel like I have it easy because I’ve been out about my sexuality from an early age. I have an intuitive grasp of “lesbian fashion”- to the point where no one has ever accused of being “too femme” or asked me what I was doing at a gay bar. Has anyone felt like they were being ignored in a queer environment because they didn’t look or act queer enough? Do you feel like you dress in a “lesbian” way even if you don’t intend to? Do you not believe you dress in a “lesbian” way, even if you wear jeans, Converse and t-shirts every day? Do you think that the whole concept of “dressing like a lesbian” is ridiculous, outdated and sexist? What stereotypes pertain to how bisexual and queer women dress? Are they radically different? Finally, from your experience how does gender expression differ from culture to culture?

XOXO
Veronica