Hollow victory

Not really much of a victory at all, though, for a group of people who are profoundly affected by workplace discrimination: transpeople.

The Employment Non Discrimination Act (ENDA) passed, apparently. Without the language that included protection from workplace discrimination for an individual's "real or perceived gender," which was the only remaining language in the watered-down bill that could be said to almost explicitly protect people who are transsexual.

More at Pam's House Blend.

I have lots more to say about this because it really toasts my tits.

At the moment, however, I gotta go. Ruby just stole my breakfast off the counter and I have an appointment with the psychoneuroatriologist. Sleep disorder doc. Whatever he's called.

It's National Coming Out Day!

So I'll take this opportunity to state (yet again) for the record that I am bisexual. I've written previously about my discomfort with that label, with the reputation that bisexuals have, and about how I sometimes wish that my sex life were even half as interesting as people seem to think bisexuals' sex lives are. I do not, in fact, have twice as many partners as monosexuals. I do not, in fact, even have twice as many potential partners to choose from. I am as discerning as the next person and will not in fact fuck anything that moves. Also: I am not an unstable whackjob murderer. Those movies about hot bi gals who go all nuts and ruin some innocent straight girl's life and kill her husband/boyfriend or whatever? Not about me. I'm about as hot as your average middle-aged rocket surgeon-princess-geek, and sort of temperamentally allergic to high-drama type situations.

But still, sometimes, when asked if I'm a lesbian, I say yes. It's easier. Interestingly, no one has ever asked me outright if I'm straight (ahem). But if they did, I'd say no. But I really don't like to answer the next questions that follow the revelation that I'm bisexual: Well, which do you like better? [I like both. A lot.] When are you going to make up your mind? [I have made up my mind; I like both men and women.*] Isn't this just part of your refusal/inability to make a commitment to anything? [No more than your attraction to members of only one gender makes you unable or unwilling to make a commitment to one individual within that group.] Aren't you just trying to cash in on your 'heterosexual privilege' while still claiming membership in an oppressed class? [I'm especially baffled by this one.]

But I came out as a lesbian -- to family, friends, community -- in my early twenties, and in fact was in a relationship with one woman or another until my mid-thirties. I was surprised as anyone to find myself attracted to a man, and even more so to act on that attraction. At first I thought of it kind of as a 'relapse,' but there was more to it than that. In the years since then, I've become more comfortable admitting to myself, to my lovers, and to my friends that I'm bisexual, for real. I still haven't told my parents, though I'm pretty sure both of them have their suspicions. I figure that, especially at my age, my sex life is none of their business. If I were in a long-term relationship with a man, I would certainly tell them. But they both worked very hard to come to terms with the whole lesbian-daughter thing in the first place, and were extremely supportive and kind about it. I have occasionally suspected that they rather enjoy the notoriety, even. And they love love love my lovely ex-wife, and think I'm an idiot for leaving her, or driving her away, or whatever it was that happened. I forget what it was, exactly. Seemed important at the time, and probably was.

Anyway, I am grateful that I never experienced a hostile family, never lost a job, never felt threatened or oppressed on a personal, individual, or even remotely dangerous level on account of being a lesbian or a bisexual. Never belonged to any church or social group that would ostracize or ban someone for being queer. I am very lucky, and my heart goes out to people who did not, do not, or would not experience all of that if and when they choose to come out, today or any other day.

So that's where I'm at. You?


*UPDATE: No one's commented about this (yet) but on re-reading this, I certainly want to be clear that I don't intend any slight to transexuals; I like them also, and absolutely support what is going on with them. I guess I could more accurately state that I like all genders. Or sexes. Or whatever. Does this mean I have to call myself "omnisexual?" That does sound a little kinky, but maybe I could get used to it. Yet another reason I don't like labels. But that's for another post, I think. I'm not a monosexual, is all. Not that there's anything wrong with that. Some people just can't help it, I think.

I like reading the candy hearts, anyway

This post pretty much sums up my feelings about Valentine's Day. I like the little hearts with the dopey messages on them. The rest of it I can live without.

The only other VD-related message in my inbox was from Julie, who sent a link to this article It's a fluff piece, sure, but its author, Julie Enszer, isses an interesting challenge: go the whole day without revealing the gender of your sweetie. No reason to set aside Valentine's Day to do it -- but hey, whatever. Her point is that it's inconvenient and awkward and makes you feel like you're making way too big a deal out of something that's really after all kind of irrelevant. It can make you feel kind of nutty, and like you're hiding a Big Secret.

But it's also essential information, in a certain way.

Straight people often say it's OK with them if people are queer, but why do they have to bring it up all the time? Well, the answer is that, in real life -- if you're at all forthcoming about who you are and what's important, even in a casual context, you might just happen to mention your sweetheart, if you have one. Or a spouse. Who is an actual human, with a gender, and all the pronouns & things that go along with that.

For most of my adult life, I have made little effort to hide the gender of my Significant Other. If/when I had one. If I knew it would be a huge issue for someone and I just didn't feel like educating them right at the moment, I might not mention it, but when I was a sweet young thing, I was a Serious Lesbian, and I didn't care who knew it. I didn't care if my co-workers "found out" because mostly I worked in places where it just wasn't all that interesting to anybody. My family just sort of got used to it and never really made much of a fuss. I was never in any kind of faith community, so I didn't have to worry about getting tossed out if they found out I had a girlfriend and not a boyfriend.

I didn't come out of the closet so much as I just never felt I had to go into one.

And then I was in a long-term, happily-ever-after type thing with the woman who eventually became my lovely ex-wife. We left the Big Gay City of Minneapolis for rural Minnesota and then North Carolina -- not reputed to be exactly hotbeds of gay-acceptance, if you see what I'm saying. But I never made a big deal about hiding it or making sure people knew about it, and when I did say something, I rarely got any kind of response other than an embarrassed "oh, sorry -- you're wearing a ring, I just assumed it was a guy you were married to. Of course it's OK to bring her along." Or maybe a surprised "Oh, wow, I didn't realize you two were, um, oh."

I'm sure there were folks who disapproved or were shocked, but they never said anything mean or nasty to my face.

Yes, I know that I've been lucky. I know a lot of queer people have had to hide this information lest they get beat up, thrown out of the family, kicked out of their church, or fired. All that is real, and horrible; that was not my experience is all.

But then a funny thing happened after the ex and I split up: I started seeing a guy. Nothing serious, but there were times when I'd be talking to certain friends and they'd ask whether I was dating anyone yet. I wanted to tell them that I was, because I knew that the next question was did I want to meet their [neighbor, cousin, sister-in-law, co-worker's niece] who was really cool and -- get this also a lesbian and of course you two have so much in common.

So I'd say that yes, I was seeing someone, and then laugh at myself as I went through all kinds of grammatical contortions to keep from revealing his gender, and then change the subject as quickly as possible. Because even worse than being fixed up with The Other Lesbian I Know was the bullshit I feared hearing (and eventually heard) from people I thought I knew. I was not ready to discuss it.

I did not want to hear the "see it really was just a phase" gloating from my mother; and I really didn't want to hear any bullshit about selling out to the hetero hegemony or cashing in on my "straight privilege" from my lesbian friends. And I really really didn't want to find out which of my straight friends would turn out to have been a closet homophobe all along -- and a couple eventually did; they knew I hadn't been a real lesbian.

And then, I mean, what if I decided to go out with a woman next? I knew that -- fun as it seemed at the time -- what I had with that particular guy was mostly just a rebound-type fling, certainly not a happily-ever-after scenario. I totally dreaded having to explain that, no, it was the guy thing that was just a phase -- I renounce my straight privileges, give me back the mantle of heteronormative oppression -- oh and sorry mom, didn't mean to get your hopes up again about grandkids & all that.

And what if after that relationship ends, I wanna go out with a dude again? Because I might. In fact I have.

Some people might say I'm thinking too hard about it all. In fact a lot of people do say that. It's one of my charms, really: overanalyzing everything. But I still catch myself being vague about the gender of one ex-sweetheart or another, depending on who's listening and whether I'm in the mood to talk about it. Bisexuals are really scary, apparently. More so even than lesbians.

And I still haven't told my mother about all the boys I've dated; it's only been like ten years.

UPDATE: Here's a candy heart generator!

'One big fiesta' for aliens & queers

Why are people giving this guy money?

Oh, never mind. I gotta hand it to the guy, though. He does know how to get attention.

But I get tired of people, whether they're black or white (and mostly they're white, as far as I can see from here), getting all bent out of shape about folks like Mr. R., "selling out" their race. I'm sorry, but this is what it's all about: I've said it before that I'm happy to be in a country where a black person is every bit as free to be a bigoted, reactionary nutjob as any white person.

I wish they'd cut it out, though. Especially the part about exploiting people's fears in service of fundraising for an election they're not all that likely to win.

Bisexual? Indecisive? Moi???

I'm certainly not androgynous:

"You scored as Either. You brain is neither specifically male nor female dominated in the way you perceive things and as bad as this sounds it can easily mean that you are capable of combining both limiting gender aspects to your advantage. Rather than being genderless you are possibly able to think freely. This does not necessarily mean that you are bisexual or androgynous or indecisive, though it might."

Either		54%
Male		50%
Female		46%
Neither		21%

Should you be MALE or FEMALE?*
created with QuizFarm.com

PS: Thanks to antiprincess at paleofeminist for the link. I'm a little, um, nonplussed at the phrase ".. and as bad as this sounds..." in that description. I like not being tethered to silly gender regulations.

Patriarchy's many cornerstones

Over at I Blame the Patriarchy, my fellow spinster aunt hits the nail on the head yet again in her discussion of a couple of issues that continue to baffle me beyond all reason.

"... I reveal no secrets when I say that many traditionally whitedude-o-centric institutions are so deeply entrenched in fucktarded patriarchal ideology that the spinster aunt necessarily writhes in ambivalence when she hears of women (or other oppressed groups) who try to bust through venerable dudely barriers to claim a piece of the action."

Yeah, exactly.

What set her spinning on this one was a news item that I noted sort of sadly and moved on before it made my brain hurt too much: a bunch of Catholic women risked excommunication by ordaining themselves or each other or whatever (unofficially of course) as priests and deacons. Out on a boat, I guess, so that they were not subject to the jurisdiction of any particular terrestrial authority (and, I imagine, they didn't want to drag some unfortunate parish through hell along with them, just in case there was trouble).

It just seems silly to me somehow, to want so badly to participate in a system that prohibits you from participating and works against your interests. No, not merely silly -- it's fucking nuts. Commenter Jennifer, over at Twisty's place, quite properly invoked Audre Lorde's The Master's Tools Will Never Dismantle The Master's House.

Duh.

But then Twisty also brings the gay marriage question into the mix. This is another one that makes my head spin. I mean, it's totally crazy that some people are allowed to participate in this sanctified activity and some aren't. It's a total no-brainer in my view that if straight people are allowed to do it, gay people should not be prevented from doing whatever it is that people do to get married, nor taking advantage of whatever patriarchy-supporting (or not) perks it offers. What puzzles me is why anyone wants to do it, and why there are so many perks attached to it. I guess Twisty says it more succinctly here:

"It’s not that I think homos shouldn’t get married; it’s that I think nobody should get married. Of patriarchy’s many cornerstones, marriage is the cornerstoniest. So, c’mon, let’s abolish the whole thing! Who’s with me?"

I'm in! I'm in!! Though as I pointed out in the comments over there (can I quote myself here?), I support it in an abstract "why the hell not" kind of way:

"I don't want my relationships regulated or defined or subject to legal obligation. [...] The only benefit to me personally that legally-sanctioned same-sex marriage could possibly hold is that I could more meaningfully choose not to marry anyone at all. I have successfully taken a stand against marrying a man by not actually marrying any of them, but my opposition to marrying a woman has gone largely undemonstrated."

You won't find me at any protests carrying any signs or arguing much about it. I guess I can't get all worked up about being denied a right I don't especially want, even if (in the context of things) it's only fair that I should have it.

But the light that dear Aunt Twisty flipped on for me was the one illuminating that towering institution of misogyny and patriarchal power: the symphony orchestra. I haven't been paying a lot of attention to the classical music world for a very long time now, and it was with a little surprise that I noted the fuss about Marin Alsop's confirmation as music director of the Baltimore Symphony Orchestra. Surely that can't be remarkable? Alas, yes it is. She's not the first woman conductor, but the first woman conductor to be appointed artistic director of a major orchestra.

This one caught me up a little short, as it was once upon a time my ambition to be a symphony conductor. I had no idea the odds were so stacked against me. I mean, it would have been much easier for a little girl growing up in the 60s & 70s to become a fireman or an astronaut. It seemed at the time, that women my age would have a much harder time fighting their way to the top in law or medicine or business. Surely not music? But it occurs to me: f I'd known all this, would I maybe have fought harder for it? Like somehow if I'd stayed there & fought for my right to exist in that particular patriarchal edifice, would I now have some kind of clue what would motivate a boat full of Catholic ladies to defy authority and ordain themselves in order to participate more fully in an organization that oppresses them? Maybe I'd be able to get a little bit more excited about demanding to be allowed to marry a girl if I wanted to.

Then again, maybe not.

I'm bisexual, just so you know

I don't necessarily want this to be one of those "every thought I ever had" blogs -- not that there's anything wrong with that -- but I guess I can go ahead and say what's on my mind. I mean, I am in charge here & all. Plus, I think this post includes information that is more than merely personal.

You see, there are a few questions that I seem to have to answer over and over again, and I just get tired of it, you know what I mean? It's not that the questions are stupid or unfair, but there are only so many times I can cover the same material.

People have so many weird ideas about things (and no, I'm not immune to this; I have plenty of boneheaded ideas myself), and I find that if you don't talk with them, they never know that what they think is, well, in my opinion anyway, false. Sex is one of those areas where people get particularly attached to ideas that they are moderately comfortable with -- or obsessed by ideas that make them squirm. And when was the last time you saw a movie, or read a book, with a bisexual character who wasn't, like, crazy or at least dysfunctional and maybe even a murderer or a sociopath?

For whatever reasons, bisexuality makes a lot of people nervous. Hell, it makes me uncomfortable sometimes. So I'm going to take a few minutes to address some of the most popular among the wacky ideas and misconceptions I regularly encounter about bisexuality. And then the next time somebody asks me about it, or makes a particularly boneheaded comment, I can just refer them here. You can do the same, if you think it'll help.

Let me just state first off that my personal sex life is, on average, no more or less interesting than other people's, from what I can gather. Your mileage may vary depending on road conditions, etc. But, truly, I don't have twice as much sex as everyone else has (alas). Threesomes? Yeah, well, whatever. And from a historical standpoint, I don't have twice as many (past or present) partners as other single people my age. I don't even feel like I have twice as many potential partners to choose from.

I can sort of see where that last one is coming from, but it's only even remotely valid if you as a monosexual view every person of your preferred gender as a potential partner. But you don't, do you? I like to think that most people are a little more discerning than that, and I think you'll agree with me if you think about it. You've gotta draw the line somewhere, right?

I am not, for example, attracted at all to people who aren't smart, or funny, or who aren't at least moderately healthy in an overall sense (emotionally and physically). I'm more attracted to people who like to dance than those who don't like to dance. I have no patience whatsoever for people who are mean, or who don't like dogs or cats or spiders. Green- or hazel-eyed people are more compelling to me somehow than blue- or brown-eyed people, but I can go either way on that, especially with regard to non-caucasian types, obviously. I personally prefer, in general, people who are taller than I am, and stronger. OK, I'm only 5'2", so adults (and I very strongly prefer adults, just for the record) who are taller than I am are pretty numerous. But very few women are stronger than I am, and a surprising number of men are not.

The second big thing I'm tired of addressing is the 'why don't you make up your mind already?' question. I'm really tired of saying this: I have made up my mind. Some of the people I'm attracted to are male and others are female. Big deal. Why is that so difficult to understand?

I'm not speaking for all bisexuals here, of course, and this is not at all meant to imply in any way that I think bodies are not interesting, because they are. I mean, girls are really pretty & everything (not to mention they have tits!! and multiple orgasms!!), but boys have dicks, which I have to admit I think are really fucking cool.

Nor is any of this meant to imply that I think men and women are the same. They are not, and vive le difference & all that. Yeah, women are -- in general -- better at talking about their feelings than men are. But men don't have to talk about every goddamn feeling, and that's kind of cool too. And there are always exceptions, and exceptional people are interesting. And even androgyny can be pretty interesting sometimes too.

The third big question is one that I mostly hear from men: who gives better head, men or women?

The thinking here I guess is that girls already automatically sort of know what girls want, so they do it better. Some guys feel threatened by this, poor dears, and secretly fear that they'll never get it right. I am here to tell you what you should probably already know: good sex is good sex; good head is good head. You can do it, pal. A lover who is reasonably well informed about anatomy and who is paying attention to what you want (and not what he or she thinks you want) is a better lover than those who give you what they think you want (or --worse -- what they think you should want or what their last five lovers wanted). You know this, right?

Unless I'm tragically mistaken, sex is one area where you can't take the golden rule too literally. You want to do unto others what they really want you to do, not what you want them to do unto you. And yes, this does sometimes involve asking them exactly what they want, and also answering honestly when they ask you. Neither of which is particularly easy.

Another thing I'd like to mention here briefly is, well, monogamy. I'm not generally a huge fan of it (and not just because I'm bisexual; I have plenty of other issues, like, you know, 'commitment phobia' & other shit like that), but I do occasionally (and happily) participate in monogamous relationships on purpose. If you think about it, though, bisexuality is completely irrelevant in the context of a monogamous relationship. Who the hell cares what gender of person you are not sleeping with? What business is it of anyone else's? I mean, if you marry a redhead, is that because you're not attracted to brunettes? Does it mean you think all redheads are potential sex partners? Male and female; quiet and loud, skinny and fat, tall and short? Maybe, maybe not. But it doesn't automatically define you as a sexual pervert to the rest of the world.

Which sort of brings me to my final point: I'm really tired of straight women who think I'm just trying to be contrary and make them look uptight, or who think I'm always coming on to them. I'm really tired of lesbians who think I'm selling out and trying to 'pass,' or to cash in on 'heterosexual privilege.' I'm really tired of men who want to watch me fuck their girlfriends.

I'm just a nice, middle-aged queer girl; get over yourselves already, willya?

Chick stuff

I have been menstruating for 30-some years. Not always on schedule, of course, but let's just say that as of March 14, 2005, this hideous thing has happened to me at least 381 times.

Why is it such a big fucking surprise every time?

I'm sure that part of the problem is that I just don't pay attention to the whole cycle the way I would if I were accustomed to worrying about getting pregnant. I've almost always been either on the pill or dating girls, so it's just not a big deal, except when it's a big deal and you should know better you idiot what do you mean you have no idea whether or not your period is late? Like, um, last month.

So picture it: there I am, living my life in my pleasant enough little world. Things are going right or maybe a few things are going wrong, but I can handle it. It's fine. Good, even. I am strong and competent. My bills are usually paid; my numerous and interesting friends all care about me. Sometimes I have a lover; sometimes I don't. I eat sensible things that I cook myself. I exercise, I get things done on time, I walk the dog.

Then one day I just burst into tears while I'm driving, for example, or I accidentally uncover a plot among my so-called friends to humiliate me yet again, or I catch my lover noticing for the very first time that I am fat. Or I notice that I don't have a lover, and no wonder! I'm fat!

I let the phone ring, and check the message later. It's my mother. Maybe I'll call her in the morning.

I'm late for something, but I have to eat right now. I mean, this minute. I go to the drive-thru and get a Filet-O-Fish sandwich. Yes, goddammit, I want fries with that. And a diet fucking soda, yes, that's right. Diet.

My breasts are at least eight times their normal size – I know this means that I am dying of breast cancer. I've never heard of that either, but it's probably too late for any treatments. It's OK, though; my life is not worth living anyway. My clothes don't fit, and why are they all so fucking ugly? Even my shoes are ugly. Every goddamn shoe in North Carolina is ugly. I am desperately horny. I will probably never get laid again as long as I live. Maybe there is some chocolate in my pocketbook.

Somehow I can ignore every one of these clues, no matter how many times it happens. I cannot remember ever feeling like this before. I am exhausted. I can't possibly sleep. I drop everything I pick up. One more thing will just push me over the edge, I know it will. Hell, I'm gonna jump. Why wait around for the inevitable?

Just before I get there and hurl myself into the abyss, though, it all falls into place. I have cramps! I'm bleeding! This is normal! I'm so happy!

Then maybe I'll get mad (again) about the price of tampons. Complain that I have to pay sales tax on them. Complain about sales taxes generally. And the whole fucking goddamn regressive tax system, who the hell thought that up? And the federal government, I mean, what's up with the UFO cover-ups? Or those goddamn black helicopters? And poverty and racism. Global climate change, the melting Antarctic ice sheet, that asshole in the White House, whatever. Doesn't even matter which one.

Then I call my mother back and she reminds me that menopause is just around the corner.

Is she trying to be funny?