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Coming Out Day

1 Mar

No, not that one.

I am a feminist. As of last night, I finally just decided to give up the fight and call myself such. Honestly, I don’t know why I’ve been putting it off for as long as I have. I guess I assumed being queer and playing roller derby and being an anarchist counted enough to be able to avoid the uncomfortable awkwardness that comes along with telling lots of people that I am The F-Word.  I’ve always been a feminist; my political affiliation (or lack thereof) makes it impossible NOT to be. It’s just getting over the fear of calling myself such.

Well, he got two right.

Sure, I’ve passed longingly (creepily) by the NOW tables, I’ve seen The Vagina Monologues several times over, I’ve participated in Take Back The Night, but I’ve never actually done research into the different ideologies or actually considered becoming an active feminist working under such a title.

This all came in light of a rather abstract conversation I won’t go into details about but somehow ended up on the subject of Jessica Valenti, editor for the amazing blog that I follow from time to time I’ve met her before, briefly, during my time at Texas A&M University as a board member for the GLBT organization. Anyways, following this conversation, I ran out and bought “Full Frontal Feminism” and proceeded to grow incredibly angry (and inspired) as I read the entire book in one sitting. Instead of doing my reading for Women’s Literature (somewhat ironic, I suppose).

Rabid Vaginaism.

So in light of all this rabid-vaginaism, I’d like to call lots of attention to the fact that A WEEK FROM TODAY it is

National Feminist Coming Out Day.

That’s right. If you are a closet feminist, are curious about feminism, or have been a feminist but never done much about it, March 8, 2011 is your day to be loud and proud.

Just as coming out of the closet as a GLBTQ individual involves a lot of soul-searching, self-educating, overcoming fear and stereotypes, and standing up for what you believe in, coming out as a feminist is much the same. There is an intense stigma surrounding those who actually chose to call themselves feminist or pro-feminist, one that is untrue and only serves  the very purposes that feminism fights against in the first place. But if you give a shit about equality for anyone (civil rights, gay rights, religious freedom, anything), it’s important that you at least educate yourself about the feminist movement and women’s rights. Because true equality and freedom for everyone cannot EVER be achieved if there is even one oppressed, marginalized group.

Also, this picture:


Bisexual Lesbian, Trans, Fag, Queer, All In One

26 Feb

So I think about myself quite often. Not in the “I’m hungry, I’m sleepy, I’m needy” way. More like the narcissistic kind of thinking such as “Damn I look good in this hat” or “My hair is fantastic today.” Naturally, being obsessed with myself and also being queer, I think alot about how, precisely, I see myself on the Gay Spectrum (somewhere around violet).

I am indeed.

At least I'm self-confident.

When one studies gender psychology (does this exist? Am I being too scientific?), there are basically three components to a person’s sexual/gender identity. First is orientation, as in gay, straight, bi, curious, pansexual, asexual, and so on. Orientation is based purely on one’s preferences in sexual partners. The second component is gender identity. A good majority of (typical straight) people identify themselves within a cisgendered system: male or female (taking on the traditional roles and appearances as defined by society), which coincide with their biological sex (which is the third component, see below). However, there are many deviations from the gender binary, such as intersex, third gender, bigendered, and so forth. The third component is biological sex based on genitalia (sexy parts, if you’re less scientific) and chromosomal make-up. This is also usually seen as binary, male and female; there are many people who also do not meet this criteria, as seen in those having mixed sets of primary (sexy parts) and secondary (boobies/beards) characteristics. Genetics is a big whoop in this area of sexuality. I’m too lazy to go into huge details. Basically, not everyone is (penis + facial hair) = male or (vajayjay + boobies) = female. And as most people *should* know, not all “males” are attracted to women and not all “females” are attracted to men.

So if you’ve caught on to what I’m trying to get at, you see that there are many more possible combinations of sexual/gender identity than the traditional male/female model. It’s kinda like math. So many possible combinations and permutations, and I failed statistics in my freshman year so I’m no voice of authority here. Think of ordering a drink at Sonic. You chose your basic liquid (Sprite, Coke, Dr. Pepper), chose your flavors (vanilla, cranberry, vodka is off-menu but a possibility, cherry), and then you can add pretty much anything else (REAL fruit, more flavors, ice cream…). There’s over 168000 possible combinations (taken from Sonic website).


Pictured: GayBerry Spritz.


Add on top of ALL that the way a person choses to represent themselves through styling choices (see my first post). Overwhelming, right? Indeed.

Many of us fags have a hard time picking one word to describe ourselves. When people ask me if I’m a lesbian, I tell them that’s my sexual orientation (mostly, I experimented with heterosexuality in college). I then go on to blow their mind when I say “I really consider myself a bi-curious metrosexual straight man in a female body. I’m transgendered, lesbian, and quite metrosexual. You can just call me a queer to make it easy.”

Let’s explore this more, shall we? Obviously I think about this a lot. Obviously it can get confusing. Let’s face it. Sex and everything to do with it is confusing, all the more so when one breaks free of the easy pattern of male/female and starts considering all the 168000 + possibilities. Let’s break me down into my components and gain a better understanding. Sometimes I feel like this is more for my own personal benefit and conceit than anything else, but I digress.

1. Female. Biologically, I pretty much fit the criteria. I have boobies (they’re very nice I guess). I have fairly average womanly parts (group all the others I’ve seen together and find the “mode.” More math). I don’t have excessive body hair, nor anything else “extra.” However, when clothed (can’t see the fun bits) I fall into a more androgynous definition, no matter how I dress myself up to appear more feminine. My body and facial build is more masculine, I have less “curves,” squared shoulders, a stronger facial profile, a broken nose. I have man-hands. I even have the really long ring finger that puts my pointer to shame and is said to connote dyke-ishness.

Actor's portrayal of me as a child. Center.

2. Transgendered. For all my fantastic wonderful lady-parts, I see myself as more male than female. Don’t get me wrong. I’ve seen “The Vagina Monologues.” I know how I’m supposed to adore, respect, and cherish my Georgia O’Keefe that lies beneath. And I do. I don’t want to get rid of it. I do, at many times, want to get rid of the boobs. They get in my way and I think I would look better with a flat chest…

Serious. I do this.

For me, being transgendered lies more along the lines of the gender “roles” I take on and how I present myself. Another good term for this is “genderqueer” or “genderfuck,” seeing myself as just not fitting my biological sex as well as not being the complete opposite. My gender identity is constantly fluid and changing, almost on a daily basis. I’m not a male trapped in a female body. I’m a female body that happens to harbor a dude and a chick that constantly bicker with each other about who gets to wear the pants.

3. Lesbian and Bi-Curious. I’m going to go ahead and throw this out there, and it’s WAY OUT THERE. I love male gay sex. My porn browsing history will show this. The dude inside of me is actually pretty fierce and fagulous, and is attracted to other men. Gay and/or feminine men.


BUT. The woman inside me wants other women. The woman, having more knowledge and control of my sexy parts, wins out when it comes to actually getting it on. In this light, I address my sexual orientation as predominantly attracted to other women. Lesbian.


But being transgendered, I sometimes identify with bisexual, now strictly on an attraction basis only, not  on sexual activity. My sexual experiences have not been strictly with women. Like I said, I experimented with straightness in college and various times before that.

My mantra for sophomore year.

Experimented, then the woman said “I WANT VAGINA ONLY,” and I stopped seeking sexual encounters with males. During all the penises and vaginas, I always called myself a

4. Queer. This is my favorite word ever. You’ve probably noticed this. It is my umbrella term for myself. It saves me the hassle of going into all the details I just did above. Even with all these separate and specific definitions, I still don’t sometimes “fit” these labels. My sexuality and gender is so fluid that I simply cannot always say I am A+B+C and sometimes D. I am all for reclaiming this word, as well as “fag.” I refer to myself as a fag all the time. It’s a wonderful word, seeing as I am just incredibly, fabulously, and overwhelmingly GAY. I’m almost too gay to function.

So, I’m reclaiming “queer” and “fag” in an uproar of rainbows and glitter (I love glitter) and gratuitous amounts of hair products. I never object to being called “sir.” I love it. I smile and wave excitedly when a redneck drives by in a pickup and yells “FAGGOT” at me. I am the gay man in the group of straight girls, gossiping and giggling and doing makeup. I am the dyke hanging out with the bros and dudes, slamming back brewskies and watching football and working on trucks. I slip so effortlessly into almost every type of gender/sexual expression there is… and that is why being a queer is so fitting for me. I’m just unusual.

I love being everything that I am. I wouldn’t trade any of it in for a simpler definition for all the J. Crew sweater-vests in the world. I revel and delight in the second glances, the misguided questions, the confusion and awkwardness. I will always be ringing the (extremely loud) bell for freedom of expression in all forms, because I know firsthand how it feels: like the perfect pair of pants, so comfortable, so well-fitting, and oh-so-good-looking.

THAT'S HOT. Seriously.