Entry tags:
Identity confusion
A grad student friend of mine is doing her thesis on platonic relationships between mixed gender, queer/straight friends. When I asked a co-worker/friend to take part in the interview with me she said, "What are you talking about? You’re not straight."
A couple of months ago at a party, I was talking to a different co-worker’s girlfriend. She had just returned from a family visit and was talking about how good her mother had finally gotten about her being a big ol’ dyke and what a change that was. Then she asked me, "So how did your parents react when you came out?"
I’m not often at a loss for words but I really didn’t know what to say. In the 30 seconds to a minute of silence that followed, I realized that I met her through my queer punk friends and got to know her through her girlfriend and she didn’t really have "straight context" for me. I also didn’t wanna come off as offended or weird; I love it when I get read as queer. I’m just often surprised when it happens at a non-specifically queer event. But I also feel uncomfortable about claiming a queer identity when I haven’t met some of the fairly basic requirements. After I managed to mumble something like, "I don’t really sleep with boys you know?" she replied, "Yeah, but your not exactly normal either."
The funny thing is that she was partially right. I actually did come out to my parents. When J and I had our 10 year anniversary party in the woods, we were very upfront in our invitation* about our non-monogamy and J’s bisexuality as a way of not falling into the trap of our hetero union making other relationships invisible (and not privileging people in relationships over others). I was planning on explaining this stuff to my parents before we sent out the invites but my sister, in order to "help", told them her weird, not-based-in-reality version of our relationship, and I had to meet with them quickly to do emergency damage control. ("No, I’m not in a group marriage with my entire collective household. . . ")
I haven’t lived in an all-straight household in over 11 years of collective living situations. And I’ve been accused of over-processing by lesbos** and being too slutty by fags, so I have some qualifications. But I’m wary of the "Pat Freeman"*** syndrome. "Pat" was someone I went to college with. He was one of those icky middle class, straight, able-bodied, white men who claimed to feel like working class, disabled, Black lesbians. He even changed his name to "Pat Freemyn"**** so as not to oppress anyone.
That’s one of the reasons I’ve always been wary of identifying as queer even when my queer friends tell me I should. Of course, I also think a little identity confusion is a good thing as it keeps one from claiming the type of identity politics that have pretty much reached a dead end these days. I’ve kinda learned to like the weird, hard-to-describe-in-a-short-phrase, non-identity space I occupy around sexuality. I guess I’ve had to.
Either that or I just need to work on the fucking boys thing.
*It was more of a manifesto in all honesty.
**You were a lesbo at the time SK so I’m counting you, but you’re not the only one.
***Name changed to protect the guilty.
****This was the mid-‘80s remember.
A couple of months ago at a party, I was talking to a different co-worker’s girlfriend. She had just returned from a family visit and was talking about how good her mother had finally gotten about her being a big ol’ dyke and what a change that was. Then she asked me, "So how did your parents react when you came out?"
I’m not often at a loss for words but I really didn’t know what to say. In the 30 seconds to a minute of silence that followed, I realized that I met her through my queer punk friends and got to know her through her girlfriend and she didn’t really have "straight context" for me. I also didn’t wanna come off as offended or weird; I love it when I get read as queer. I’m just often surprised when it happens at a non-specifically queer event. But I also feel uncomfortable about claiming a queer identity when I haven’t met some of the fairly basic requirements. After I managed to mumble something like, "I don’t really sleep with boys you know?" she replied, "Yeah, but your not exactly normal either."
The funny thing is that she was partially right. I actually did come out to my parents. When J and I had our 10 year anniversary party in the woods, we were very upfront in our invitation* about our non-monogamy and J’s bisexuality as a way of not falling into the trap of our hetero union making other relationships invisible (and not privileging people in relationships over others). I was planning on explaining this stuff to my parents before we sent out the invites but my sister, in order to "help", told them her weird, not-based-in-reality version of our relationship, and I had to meet with them quickly to do emergency damage control. ("No, I’m not in a group marriage with my entire collective household. . . ")
I haven’t lived in an all-straight household in over 11 years of collective living situations. And I’ve been accused of over-processing by lesbos** and being too slutty by fags, so I have some qualifications. But I’m wary of the "Pat Freeman"*** syndrome. "Pat" was someone I went to college with. He was one of those icky middle class, straight, able-bodied, white men who claimed to feel like working class, disabled, Black lesbians. He even changed his name to "Pat Freemyn"**** so as not to oppress anyone.
That’s one of the reasons I’ve always been wary of identifying as queer even when my queer friends tell me I should. Of course, I also think a little identity confusion is a good thing as it keeps one from claiming the type of identity politics that have pretty much reached a dead end these days. I’ve kinda learned to like the weird, hard-to-describe-in-a-short-phrase, non-identity space I occupy around sexuality. I guess I’ve had to.
Either that or I just need to work on the fucking boys thing.
*It was more of a manifesto in all honesty.
**You were a lesbo at the time SK so I’m counting you, but you’re not the only one.
***Name changed to protect the guilty.
****This was the mid-‘80s remember.