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(04/16/15 1:27am)
After putting up an exhibit called Queer Faces of Middlebury in the McCullough Center Gallery, I noticed that the word “queer” turned some people off the project. I personally don’t mind identifying as queer and using it as a personal and political tool to talk about identities and ideas, but I knew that the overall queer community on campus doesn’t feel the same.
Queerness grew on me because it was indistinguishable. I knew that coming out as gay would force me into a box and thought it harmless. I thought that if I just dressed more masculine and dated boys and married them, then the world wouldn’t have a reason to hate me. Being gay was a safe zone for my identity because it prepared me for battle. I learned how not to be affected by the foolishness of intolerant people. Then, I started reading some essays on homonormativity and was completely disgusted by the ways in which I too have been subscribing to a commercialized idea of being gay.
After reading those texts, I started identifying as queer because on a hypothetical queer planet, there is more room for imagination. Reclaiming a word that was previously used as a weapon and transforming it into a shield of a sort gave me power. Its definition was beyond anything I had ever identified with. One of my favorite readings this year was Eve Kosofky Sedgwick’s essay Tendencies where she defines queerness as an “open mesh of possibilities, gaps, overlaps, dissonances and resonances.”
This was also the way I wanted to see myself, as more complex. I was confused when non-straight people didn’t want to identify as queer. To me, getting on the “queer boat” meant that I could finally escape all of the limiting identities.
I was wrong. I was just picking a more fitting label but a label nonetheless. I’m conflicted because those labels are necessary to create communities and to make sure that the stories of queer folk are not erased from our culture. It would be ludicrous for me to say that I too wasn’t saved by the labels gay or queer when I first heard of them because they gave me a place of belonging. In a way, queerness has offered myself to me because it simply just exists. The umbrella term rids us of the burden of having to pick on the spectrum, of having to conform. The term “queer” offers a tint of rebellious behavior that I, too, wish to embody.
On the other hand, the very same reasons why I like the queer identity is why someone might dislike it. The rebellious aspect and the power that is obtained from disregarding other labels does not make the queer identity free. True freedom of sexuality and gender expression comes from not even having a label to work under. This you-can’t-put-me-in-a-box approach becomes problematic because it assumes a lot of autonomy that cannot be afforded by many.
Queerness can provide a community, but what does a non-label person get out of their experience? Is having a queer community always beneficial? There are countless queer folk on campus that don’t feel like they don’t need to identify or interact with any type of queer-centered organization of the event and that is completely fine. I would push those people to further think about the role they can play in sharing their experience with others and centering that experience in a community.
I find it difficult to understand why a non-straight identifying person would be opposed to engaging with their queer community. Partly, Queer Faces of Middlebury was a look into the queer community for straight and non-straight people that never cared to reach out and listen to these stories or just don’t have the time. I think that we can all learn a great deal from each other and see the ways in which all of our lives intersect and go on in their own directions. There is a certain uniqueness and candor to each picture that should be recognized. I had many doubts about the ability to portray such strong emotions but the participants were beautifully intentional about their identity. What does your queer identity mean to you?
(04/08/15 10:17pm)
All the time we ask queer people what their sexual identity is. We ask their friends, they ask each other, we take guesses. The world is obsessed with finding out who is queer. On the surface level, this doesn’t seem like that big of a social issue. Labels serve a convenient purpose of seeing who is a possible romantic candidate, and asking someone’s identity is a way to not make assumptions about a person’s identity. But if you take a moment to look at when and how people inquire about each other’s sexuality, you’ll see that it all relates to the social construct of the gaydar, or gay radar, and prejudice.
First, let’s look at whose sexuality we inquire about: people who are perceived as being or possibly being queer. We ask boys with loose wrists and high voices who listen to Lady Gaga. We ask women who shave their hair short and wear flannel. To a certain extent this makes sense. The stereotypical gay person exists, because gay pop-culture exists and the gaydar filters those people out. Like Chicano culture and gay African-American culture, gay culture is the result of a group of people being told they are different in a bad way, that they do not belong. And from that sense of not belonging you see a community form, a minority that comes together and forms an identity separate from the majority, often with a sense of pride.
However, the error with the gaydar is that often it goes from using social markers to identify people who may be queer, to saying that queer people are a certain way when not all queer people fit in with that image. For the people who belong in a community but do not fit the image society has for them, this can create a strong sense of dissonance in one’s identity. Similarly, as a Latino, I have often been told that I do not ‘act very Hispanic.’ But I am Hispanic. Latinos do not ‘act Latino’ because they are inherently different from white people, but because there is a history and culture we are exposed to and often embody. Likewise being queer does not inherently make you ‘act gay.’ The difference is that unlike being black or Latino, being gay is not something we can prove in our skin color or ancestry. Sexual attraction is a personal, psychological experience; personal enough that it allows for people to speculate, bringing us to ask why it is to begin with people want to know if you’re gay.
Many say that the reason they ask is because they want to respect and not make assumptions about a person. But what is the harm in making assumptions? The harm comes from the fact that labels are not okay. We don’t want to risk assuming someone is gay, because being perceived as gay is bad, and you wouldn’t want to offend someone like that … unless they actually were. Some people say this is just to prevent yourself from accidentally flirting with someone who wouldn’t be interested in you. But people don’t only ask about a person’s sexuality when they’re available, like when we already know that they are.
If a gay man assumed his boyfriend is also gay and finds out he’s actually bisexual, what is the big deal? Why do queer people like to distinguish? There is stigma against bisexuals within the queer community. But what about when we aren’t interested in them at all, when we just want to know? “Darn, I was going to ask you out on a date,” is almost never the response someone gets when they answer that they are gay. A more common response is “I could tell.” And in my opinion this is the worst way to use your gaydar, because it comes from a place of taking novelty in someone’s identity, in testing how good your gaydar is, rather than learning about a person’s identity and experience.
While I’m not saying that it is never appropriate to ask someone about their sexual orientation, I think it’s important for everyone to start thinking about why they ask what the implications behind that are.
(03/04/15 7:04pm)
In light of the recent release of 50 Shades of Grey and the upcoming Porn Party at the Queer Studies House, we thought a good topic for this week would be a list of porn and kink-related vocabulary and their misconceptions. Some of the terms you will find are very commonplace while others are not.
The reason we think this list is valuable is because what people find attractive and sexually enjoyable varies in many ways, aside from just sexual orientation. Sex positivity is all about remembering to respect everyone’s desires and sexual interests instead of shaming them. Context is a huge part of something being sexy or unsexy, and there are no rules to what should or should not enjoy. As long as everything is safe, consensual, informed and controlled, there is not a reason people should feel shame for how they manage their sex lives, from abstinence to pony play.
Kink and Fetish
The difference between a kink and a fetish is often unknown. A kink is more activity and behavior-oriented while a fetish is more focused on an object or part of the body. For example, a foot fetish is sexual enjoyment focused around a person’s feet and watersports refers to the fetish of sexual enjoyment focused on urine. Role play (where partners adopt personas that differ from their own) and enjoying spanking during sex are kinks, or can be described as kinky. While the two terms often appear in similar places they are not the same thing.
BDSM (Short for BD/DS/SM)
BDSM is usually regarded in society as a taboo practice because of its reputation for being dangerous and the result of trauma. However, liking BDSM is not the result of a trauma and, much like any other sexual practice, there are safer and less safe ways to do it. Many people engage in some form of BDSM, whether it is blindfolding or flogging. BDSM is all about deriving pleasure from pain and suspense. Consent is crucial to BDSM. That means having a safe word (a word likely not to come up in conversation during sexual activity, which alerts that a person is nearing or has reached their maximum comfort zone). Safe words are also great for communication in any sexual activity, not just BDSM.
Pony Play
A style of role-play in which the roles are divided into masters/riders and ponies. There are no actual animals involved; rather, the two roles reflect the power dynamic between horse riders and their horses. Many pony play activities also mimic those of actual horse riders and horses, such as washing or sex positions that resemble riding.
Strapadictomy
The act of strapping on a dildo in preparation for vaginal or anal penetration. Many people find using strap-ons to be an activity reserved for lesbian couples. However, many men (including heterosexuals) enjoy having their partners penetrate them anally, and may very well use a strap-on. Strap-ons and dildos are also a common tool used by transgender people.
Erotic asphyxiation
Arousal resulting from intentional restriction of oxygen to brain. Sometimes referred to as breathe control play, many people find erotic asphyxiation to be an exhilarating activity. As long as things are monitored appropriately, everything is consensual and there is not an excessive aggression with the restraints or forces used, there should be no sign for alarm. Caution is always advised, most especially with autoerotic asphyxiation in where the person restricts their own breathing and may be alone.
Masturbation
The act of giving oneself sexual pleasure. Many forget that masturbation, while commonplace in today’s American culture, masturbation was once seen as a sinful sexual deviancy and still is in many places in the world. Much like we have learned that masturbation does not prevent someone from being a happy and healthy individual we hope it carries to other practices society views as wrong and we can have open conversations about sex.
(02/25/15 7:07pm)
Last week, I was on my way to town, when a man poked his head out of a navy blue truck and called me a faggot. Mind you, my first reaction to the event was confused: I thought I’d be targeted for the color of my skin and called the n-word, but instead I was called a faggot. Thus, part of me was thrown off by the way I was insulted. In other words, I find myself to be more oppressed as a person of color rather than my sexuality here at Middlebury. Nonetheless, I was called a faggot. I don’t know whether the color of my corduroys was a little too bright or the sway of my walk didn’t read masculine enough.
The last time I was called a faggot, I reclaimed the word right in front of the person. I gave him a twirl and said “Faggot, faggot, so what I’m a faggot?” This event was much different because I didn’t get a chance to respond. The car drove away quickly and I was left with a sunken mind and bitter taste. My reaction was sealed in me.
Similar to other words like queer and even the omnipresent n-word in the black community, faggot is in the works of being reclaimed. The difference, however, is who is saying it. Growing up, I thought the word queer was an insult, and it wasn’t until high school that I started seeing the word being used by queer and non-queer people, as it has been reclaimed by academia.
The n-word was way different. I’ve seen it be used all around me growing up in Washington Heights and it wasn’t until I enrolled in a New England prep boarding school that the word became taboo. I had now been surrounded by whiteness. Some white people say it because they understand the history and weight of the word, while some other white people can’t wait until they hear a rap song so they could shout it at the top of their lungs. The n-word has, in a way, been reclaimed in pop culture.
The word faggot, however, is still seen by the majority as a highly offensive word and is more difficult to reclaim. It is a more universal bad word since it has been used to discriminate against all types of men with all types of skin colors. I have never used it against a lesbian women, and so I am painting the word faggot as an attack to all who are not masculine enough.
Unlike the n-word and queer, which have both been reclaimed, faggot makes people uncomfortable and I am still trying to figure out why. Is a word reclaimed when it is often used? Because surely I have heard the n-word so many times it would be ludicrous for me to try and call out someone or a song for saying it. The rapper YG’s song “My Nigga” won the 2014 BET Hip Hop Award for Track of the Year. How exactly does Black Entertainment Television perpetuate our oppressor’s language and make it a center point of success for the black man? In a way, it is used as an ironic device, a dialogue that goes along the lines of “look at how successful and powerful a nigga can be.”
Where is the faggot anthem? Who is going to write a mediocre song that goes #1 in all countries and liberates the fags? Despite how wrong this idea sounds, the same could be said about other reclaimed words decades ago. We must change the language so that oppressive words can be manipulated by those they oppress. We must hold the oppressor accountable for the damage he has been done but importantly, we must show the oppressor that we are resilient and stronger than he deemed us to be.
(02/19/15 1:44am)
When people say they are opposed to homosexuality, what are they talking about? What is different about the homosexual lifestyle? Really, the only distinguishing factor of the homosexual lifestyle is the sex, and when people say they’re opposed to homosexuality or even just uncomfortable, really they mean they are opposed to gay sex.
Now I’m not saying we should all just obsess over gay sex and how amazing it is (although it most definitely can be). But it is worth unpacking what it means to say you have a problem with homosexuality.
Typically, when people think about homosexuality, they think about male homosexuality. And when people think about male homosexuality, they think about anal sex and then everyone is uncomfortable and being gay is wrong and unnatural. However, aside from the erasure of lesbian sex lives, it still isn’t appropriate to say that gay sex is anal sex.
Firstly, there are lots of straight men and women who engage in either role of anal sex with their partners. Trust me. Either role. Lots. Considering that, it’s odd that most anti-sodomy laws legislation against anal sex are aimed at gay men, and often in less tolerant countries it’s only gay men who are prosecuted for breaking those laws.
Then, there’s the argument that okay, there are some heterosexual deviants, but they have the option of engaging in normal sex. Gay men can only have anal sex, and that’s why it’s unnatural. Anal sex doesn’t lead to procreation so we aren’t meant to have it. The vagina is meant to take the penis.
And this is where a lot of people really are just missing the point of sex. Firstly, the purpose of vaginas is not to ‘take’ a penis. Vaginas are capable of a lot, and they have a different use for everyone who has them. This doesn’t go to say that there aren’t people for whom sex is only to create children and chose not to have it otherwise. There are and that’s awesome.
But the reality of the vast majority of people is that we have children for a multitude of reasons, such as pleasure and forming intimate bonds with our partners.
There are many different kinds of people who can’t have children from having sex: older people, people who’ve had ovarian cancer, people who are naturally sterile, people who aren’t ready for kids, people don’t ever want kids. The list goes on and if you’re going to say the natural thing to do is make babies, then you’re saying the vast majority of people aren’t doing it right.
Sex isn’t just about having children, and in having sex people are going to do a wide variety of things outside of vaginal penetrative sex, like blowjobs. Oral sex is everywhere in our society. It’s referenced in songs and television. People, especially college students, joke about it in their casual conversations. And while it’s not something everyone is into, it’s definitely culturally accepted. So if blowjobs are fine, why is it that two men having anal sex so weird. Thus, the problem isn’t gay sex, because straight sex has all the same things.
The truth is, sex is weird. Like, all sex. Objectively, who thought it was a good idea to say, let’s get naked, rub up on each other, rub tongues, and put our body fluids into each other? It’s funny -looking and gross. But as we get older, we try things and many of us think it’s great, so we do it. The problem is when you hear about something different. Often, we equate things being different to things being unnatural, and we equate things being different to things being wrong. And when we say being queer is having gay sex and that makes you wrong, it’s stressing and destructive to a person. But gay sex is just sex with gay people and being gay isn’t just having gay anal sex. In fact, many gay men choose to not engage in anal sex at all.
Gay people can hold hands, maybe drink some soda, sing along to the radio, have a bowel movement. There’s no gay lifestyle. Gay people are just people who are gay and when a person says they are against homosexuality, you aren’t really saying anything except that you don’t really know what homosexuality is.
(02/11/15 10:01pm)
As a new and existing member of the queer community, I cannot help but comment on the cattiness stereotype that many gay and bisexual men fulfill on campus that perpetuates the hypercompetitive, unwelcome and truly unsafe spaces we breathe in.
With the new influx of the Febs on campus integrating into all types of Middlebury communities, I began a dialogue with others and myself on the faults of queer communities. The culture of “reading” thrives in our spaces and in a weird way has always been seen as a fundamental trait to being a part of a queer community. I rather challenge the cliché and in turn think about ways in which we can seem more welcoming towards new students on campus that identify as LGBTQ+ and how we can be more welcoming towards each other.
The cattiness stereotype, stemming from sexist ideology that pins up women against each other for the enjoyment of men (aka sexual competition), refuses to acknowledge the different types of queer people narratives. It forcefully leads gay and bisexual men into predictable boxes that prove to be detrimental to the queer identity. Very often, the oppressed take on the identities that their oppressors create and internalize said behavior. In order to liberate our brothers and sisters from our oppressors we must learn how to build community first. As a gay man, I am not innocent and must admit my faults and complacency in the issue.
Cattiness and being able to shade someone to filth is almost like our weapon. My ticket into queer communities in NYC and even here at Middlebury has often been to be funny at someone else’s expense. The disturbing thing is that in such spaces, rather than being called out on my atrocious behavior, it’s celebrated. Now I know I’m funny, but there’s a difference between being funny and sassy and being outright mean. But being a gay man is living in competition. Who’s hotter? Who’s more fabulous? Who’s smarter? Funnier?
Well the way life works is we often aren’t always the hottest, most fabulous, smartest, funniest most perfect guy in the room. And that feels awful, so the solution is to slay and cut down everyone around you until you’re the top queen. But when you go around hating on every queer person you see, rather than building a strong and supportive community, you have a big group of queers who not only don’t want to date each other but don’t want to even spend time together. And then that cattiness expands. It goes from being our weapon against each other to being our weapon in society. Then instead of being a gay man who gets catty with other gay men, you become a catty gay man and the stereotype is formed.
While the imposed stereotype heavily permeates gay pop culture, it’s just that: a stereotype. Many queer men, including myself, hate to feel insulted as a result of gay catfights, and plenty of queer men don’t engage in such behavior at all. The important thing is to be introspective and check yourself. Being so commonplace and accepted, you may not realize the damaging behavior you engage in whether in the day to day or only when engaging with other queer folk.
What is important to remember is that queer community exists for a reason. The queer community is proof that we are not alone. It’s a way to come together and fight oppression. When queer youth are kicked out of their homes, others open up their homes. When a student is being teased for his flamboyant behavior, his gay teacher stands up for him and sends the bully to the principles. When we couldn’t be ourselves, we gathered and opened up our own clubs and bars where we felt free. We didn’t come to form this community by calling each other fat whores. Community building is done through acceptance and celebration of each other, rather than competing with each other.
Yes, Middlebury is not the worst place to be a queer man, or queer person in general. However, it is not a place free from the catty disrespectful attitude we are known for. Considering the arrival of the new Febs, in a way we can try to see this spring term as a clean start and try to leave any nasty behaviors behind and go back to a place of welcoming, support, and love.
(01/22/15 1:15am)
When puberty comes around, little boys learn about the very rewarding experience of becoming a man. It is the time of muscle building, getting hair on your chest and get- ting a man’s voice. Everything gets bigger and manlier and what’s better than being a man in today’s patriarchy? Nothing. But for the female-bodied folk among us, the pro- cess is very different.
Yes, there’s the womanly figure and the magic of having babies, but puberty is also the time you get your period, affectionately called the curse of all women. (Not to men- tion that giving birth is something we’re taught is terrifying and it isn’t very sensitive to every body type to describe just one as womanly).
Puberty is awful enough, without so- cietal constructs that make you feel shame around your body and it’s functions. Women and men alike are taught to view the period as something dirty and unpleasant. It is pres- ent in multiple aspects of life, from religious conventions and cultural views, to the media.
Am I saying that having your period is an amazing experience? No. I get there’s a struggle. Menstruation is an experience that varies immensely from person to person and for many that includes a rush of hormones, cramps, bloating, etc. in addition to the icon- ic bleeding. However, there’s a big difference between saying that having your period can be unpleasant and saying it’s something dis- gusting. Because when something is disgust- ing, we feel the need to hide it.
Menstruation is something about half of us are familiar with, and from the biological perspective, it’s pretty amazing. I’m sorry but can any other organ cyclically renew its inner lining in preparation for hosting fetal devel- opment? Yeah, I didn’t think so. Does this process come with an influx of hormones? Yes. Does that make me incapable of func- tioning as a rational human being and that you can invalidate my opinion? No.
Most advertisements for feminine hy- giene products feature how worry free and clean you can be using their product. How awful is it to have to be worrying about being seen as ‘clean’ over something you can’t con- trol? When you go to the gym, you sweat and take a shower to clean yourself. Maybe it’s been a hot day so you wash your face and use some deodorant. What do you do that causes your period? Nothing. You exist. There is no ‘dirty’ practice people do in order to get their periods. Yet it’s seen as far less embarrassing to be sweaty or have pit stains than to be on your period or stain a pair of pants.
The difference is we all sweat (or just about everyone at least). Meanwhile not all of us have periods, and empathy is often a crucial ingredient for understanding. This is a man’s world and in a man’s world, wom- en aren’t worth much more than to satisfy straight men, and straight men aren’t inter- ested in having sex with women on their period. No wonder it’s a saying that women don’t poop. Women just aren’t allowed to be gross. Of course this fundamental aspect of the patriarchy isn’t the prime example of ev- eryone’s reality. There are plenty of men who view women as full and complex human be- ings and those guys are awesome! However, the stigma against periods is engrained deep in society.
Being on my period means I can’t have sex. It means I don’t feel sexy, that I can’t wear white pants. I can’t play sports or go swimming. I don’t feel capable. I’m too hor- monal. I don’t feel like I’m good company. I feel people aren’t seeing me as reasonable. All of the sudden having your period goes from being a biological function to being something limiting, dirty, and shameful that we feel a need to hide. But sometimes you can’t hide it and you shouldn’t have to.
If menstruation weren’t seen as such an awful state to be in, maybe little girls wouldn’t be nervous about dealing with the curse when it was that time of the month, and female bodied people could express dis- comfort without feeling embarrassed. Be- cause at the end of the day, despite today’s efforts to be perfect in everyway, it’s impor- tant to keep in mind that we all have bodies just doing body things and there’s nothing wrong with that.
(11/20/14 4:02am)
I’m gay. I’m Mexican. I’ve never been both, but I guess I am.
This last week Chris Woods, Program Administrator at the New York University LGBTQ Student Center, came to the College and gave some presentations on the intersection of identities pertaining to faith, ethnicity and sexuality and how to make Middlebury more of a space where people can exist as all their identities in comfort. One of the discussions was a conglomerate of Queers & Allies and people of color groups such as Alianza.
To be honest, I wasn’t really excited to go because I didn’t see a need to create a space where I could be all of my identities at once. After the discussion I now realize it is because I long ago abandoned my identity as a Mexican for the sake of being queer due to the very issues brought up by Woods.
People are multi-faceted and there are many layers to how a person identifies. I am an atheist, but I was raised a Catholic and I still feel very culturally Catholic. I love Christmas. Give me box of Christmas décor and I will give you a fabulous living room of Yuletide joy. But by definition I can’t be Catholic and be an Atheist.
While we as people exist as whole individuals, the labels we use to identify ourselves are compartmentalized and each come with their own conventions. You can’t be gay and be a Muslim. That’s basically a contradiction, no? You can’t be a priss if you’re a Mexican man. Islam does not condone of homosexual behavior and Mexican culture dictates that a man grows up firmly learning the rules of machismo and chivalry.
For some of us, these conventions are just silly rules that fail to recognize the diversity and complexity within and individual. But for people like myself, I don’t have such a strong filter and when I feel the culture of one identity telling me I can’t belong to another, I give one up.
I am gay. But I’m also Mexican. I was raised by a single Mexican-born mother and our stereotypically large Latin family. I never really fit in from the beginning. I wasn’t sporty and I hated piñatas. I also hated jalapeños and salsa. My mother taught me it was good I open the door for women because I was a man, and I told her I open the door for all people because I walk fast and it’s a nice thing to do if you get to the door first. Really, the most Mexican thing about me was being first generation and speaking Spanish. Even in school with 7th generation Hispanic classmates, I stood out as culturally different. To many, I was “the whitest person” they knew, not to mention gay. My voice was high, wrists loose, and I was … sassy.
Being an effeminate man simply isn’t something cool in Mexican heritage. As I grew older, I realized I wasn’t alone. I had the queer community and we had gay pop-culture. I was fabulous from the start and instead of rejecting me like the Latino community did, the queer community celebrated me. But the queer space is a white space. The more I embodied the queer pop-culture identity that I loved, the more effeminate I was perceived.
Both indirectly and directly I heard the message that I can’t be gay and Mexican. Well I knew I was gay. After a certain point, you really just can’t ignore it. So if being gay meant I couldn’t be Mexican, well then I wouldn’t. I distanced myself in my behavior from Latin culture. It was just me, the gays and the whites.
But identity is fluid and coming to Middlebury challenged the way I view myself. Maybe in San Antonio, Texas, I can feel white. But in Middlebury I’m definitely not. Having a roommate who’s also queer yet strongly identifying as Latino also did a number on me. We like the same food and music and we speak the same language. I am Mexican just like he is. And just like he is, I’m gay. I let societal pressures and conventions make me feel unwanted in Latino space to now find myself sticking out in a white space. For the first time, I’m starting to feel like a queer person of color, while others have different identity-crises. If there is anything I learned, it’s that rather than telling people who they can be, it’s better to listen to who they are.
(11/13/14 2:48am)
Something didn't sit right with me as I left the Big Freedia concert. I don’t know whether it was the inherent guilt that comes with twerking for two hours in a wife beater and tight overalls or something deeper.
In attempts to counter cultural appropriation and allow black bodies to claim back their own culture through twerking and bounce music, Middlebury happened to sneak in a more sophisticated identity — a black, super-femme gay man.
People around me expressed their excitement to see a “trans woman” twerk on stage and “feel their oats” to the beat of “Na Who Mad” and “Mo Azz.” I, too, cannot deny that I was hoping for Big Freedia to liberate all parts of me.
But in the midst of all the booty shaking, 808 beats and sweaty bodies that surrounded me, I noticed that Big Freedia Queen Diva was reflecting and possibly even owning the sexualization of black, femme and queer bodies. To me it felt so right to see the back-up dancers and Freedia twerk up a storm on stage, but it felt so wrong because it contributed to the systematic ways in which we see black women and black queer bodies in society.
Middlebury is already an environment where diversity is celebrated and tokenized as a product, rather than an experience. Big Freedia’s performance was an extension of that philosophy that allowed others (the cis white hetero majority of Middlebury) to see black queer bodies as entertainment or tools of sexual desire — even as disposable.
Another thing that didn’t sit right with me was the way in which Big Freedia marketed his identity or rather chose not to identify so overtly.
It is fair to say that he was here for his music and persona and not his identity, but one cannot deny the visible politics that come with being a tall black man with hair extensions. The ways in which queer black bodies identify and go about their days do not go unnoticed.
Seeing the Big Freedia flyer around campus filled with glitter and crowns led me to believe that a trans rapper would finally grace the Middlebury stage and slay all of our souls.
But when faced with the reality that Big Freedia is not a trans woman, but a femme gay man, does his identity erase the need for genuine trans visibility in our society? Or in other words, does the mindless transcription in seeing Big Freedia as a trans woman contribute to the systematic marginalization of trans bodies?
It seemed to me that the ambiguity of his identity was at the expense of trans bodies since the audience was just able to categorize him as the most “other” — as a trans person. This idea could also be a critique of the audience as well.
There was a Pre-Grooveyard open discussion on the “mindful consumption of music and art” in attempts to accurately frame the Big Freedia performance and I appreciate their behind the scenes work to address these issues.
Interestingly enough, I met with Goddess, Queen, Sister, Lourdes Ashley Hunter the next day. Like Big Freedia, she too slayed the campus. She remarked on being a trans woman of color at the “Living in the Question: The Ongoing Process of Curiosity” event held by TedxMiddlebury. Her focus on “deconstructing feminist analysis and acknowledging all the ways in which structural oppression manifests in the lives of Black Queer Academics in white cis dominated spaces” was something that ironically resonated with our sexual response of commodification to Big Freedia just the night before.
Students around campus flocked to the front line of the stage to witness Big Freedia Queen Diva twerk his art into existence but these same students didn’t seem to generate enough buzz about the presence of a politically active black trans woman speaking at a podium.
Of course, there are many underlying factors that have to do with the marketing of each event and the way college students want to spend their weekends but it would be ludicrous to dismiss these issues at hand. How can the administration, along with the help of the student body, work to deconstruct the “tokenizing” and “eroticizing” ways in which “marginalized identities” are being presented to the privileged on campus? Similar questions were asked at the forum held by the College President earlier this month.
Was Big Freedia’s job as an entertainer to only liberate our asses? Or was his presence on stage shading the true liberation of queer and black folk?
(10/23/14 12:51am)
It doesn’t take long to find thousands of pages online relating to how size doesn’t matter. You can find articles about how the most sensitive areas in the vagina are only in the first two inches, about how it’s girth not length, about how large penises are unappealing, or any other of the many reasons size doesn’t matter. But size matters, a lot.
We aren’t here to shame penises less than eight inches or tell you to take penis growth pills. But we have to admit that our society is obsessed with penises and penis size. It’s not about what size is better. If we really didn’t care about penis size, there wouldn’t be so much conversation about it. However, the reason penis size is so important is not because of the actual physical sensation a penis provides. It’s about power.
As two gay men, we can’t deny that we like penises. But society as a whole loves it on a whole new level, and the phallo-centric system we have set up is an unhealthy one that leaves many people self-conscious. What’s especially odd is that even the “well-endowed” aren’t exempt from this stress. In fact, on average, men who are larger than 6 inches when erect feel much more anxiety about their size then men under 5 inches.
For some people, it’s really hard to understand the pressure of having a large penis, especially if they don’t have one. Some like to compare it to the pressure of having large breasts or being skinny. The difference is that penis size is much more private than being skinny or big boobs. While there are some people who hide their figure more than others and some men who wear some particularly tight jeans, penis size is just something you really don’t know until you’re looking at someone head to head. It’s that privacy that makes it such a power struggle, because it’s taking something private about your value as a person and sharing that information with someone in an intimate setting. You can know a lot about a person. He’s perfect and sensitive, with washboard abs, but what is he packing underneath? If he’s packing light, then society says he’s weaker than the guy next door, even though he had no control over the situation.
The stress is even more so for queer men. Because when it’s time to be naked and show what you got, someone is going to win. It doesn’t matter how long you’ve waited, who’s in better shape or how much you know the person, because the competition of having a big penis is drilled into all of us from the moment we hit puberty, and you’re going to take note of who is bigger.
But why are people so proud? There’s definitely a limit of being too big. After a certain size, it’s impractical and painful. But that doesn’t prevent us from thinking bigger is better. From the receiving perspective, we can tell you when you look at someone and they are simply too big, when you say “It’s gonna hurt” we mean it in a good way. Why? We know why men want to be big: to be bigger than the next guy. But why are women and queer men searching for their partners to be large?
Really it’s not about the actual physical part of sex, because sex is all about the psychology. Men are happy to have a large member because they were told it makes them a valuable person, and their partners like to take it because it gives a sense of pride. Not only did you manage to find someone who is big, but you had the physical capacity to bite the pillow and take it. And if you can’t take it like a champ, then you’re no good. The whole system is built around shame.
People and relationships are so much more than genitals and sex. Talking about penis size is about comforting people who are too small or even too big or too average. And it’s rarely ever talked about because it’s so private. People don’t want to talk about penis size because you don’t know the size of the guy sitting next to you, or worse, what if people get a sense of your size from the conversation? But that’s not what it should be about. Talking about penis size should be about dismantling the phallo-centric transphobic system of reducing people to their genitals and have meaningful relationships.
(10/01/14 11:47pm)
Hey everyone! We are Lee Michael Garcia Jimenez and Rubby Valentin Paulino and we are two gay men on campus looking to facilitate sustainable conversations about gender and sexuality.
While we’re hoping to discuss matters that range from lesbianism to the patriarchy, we acknowledge the fact that we are not professionals. This column is just as much as a learning experience for us, as we hope it’ll be for you. Blatantly put, we’re two queers who like talking about queer things, and we hope that our words lead to discussion and hopefully some understanding.
To start off the year, we thought it’d be nice to bring up one of the first big queer events to happen this school year (and we don’t mean the Q&A Party). Sept. 23 was Bisexuality Day, also known as Bi Pride Day.
Unsurprisingly, the event brought about some cheap media coverage online and was successful at putting together slideshows of the (in)famous bisexual celebrities of our time. The way Bisexuality Day was being managed by large media companies helped us raise many questions about the way we see bisexuality. Most importantly we wanted to know how we could share “bisexual day” with you in a way that would underline “the struggle” or social stigma that pins the freedom of bisexuals around the world.
When asking around about the number of bisexuals people knew on campus, the largest answer we got was three. Where are the bisexual people on campus? And does their lack of presence in the community reflect some deeper issues? Of course!
For many people, it’s hard to think of bisexuality as legitimate. For instance, you’ll notice that from the mass of celebrity “coming out stories”, the vast majority are about celebrities being gay. Now let’s ignore the fact that the media is involved with the coming out or outing of celebrities or even the fact that there’s a need to come out. Let’s just focus on the vast underrepresentation of bisexuality in our community (not to mention asexuals, genderqueers, and all the other sexual and gender minorities. Even among the few openly bisexual people we’ve began to see as time goes on, it’s almost always women. Why is that?
GLAAD, the Gay and Lesbian Alliance Against Defamation, defines bisexuality as a sexual orientation in which a person is not limited to one gender in their attraction.
While labels vary in meaning for every individual, this provides a broad understanding of the term bisexuality but it’s always fine to ask someone what their label means to them, especially if you don’t understand. Too often, people simply assume a lot about someone’s sexual experience. And while we’re not saying everyone should go around talking about sex (unless you want to), when those assumptions harm a community, it’s best to address them.
That’s why we see more bisexual women in the media than bisexual men: because people make assumptions and have a double standard for men and women when it comes to bisexuality. Often bisexuality is thought of as being “half-straight”, a 50/50 divide on your attraction split between men and women. However, this has a different definition for each gender.
Women who are half-straight are seen as sexy since they satisfy the porn culture-induced fantasy of men watching girls get it on with the ability to join the action. This definition of bisexuality for a woman doesn’t even consider a woman’s personal sexual desire or pleasure but rather her ability to satisfy the man. And how does a bisexual woman satisfy a man? Threesomes.
On the other hand, it’s not entirely socially acceptable for men to be bisexual. Because being half-straight means you’re half-gay, and that one half of gayness taints the straight. Furthermore, we are dealing with sexism that says that a gay man isn’t a real man or is no better than a woman.
Our experience in the “oh so marvelous” queer community — especially among gay men — reflects that being “half-straight” means you’ll never be satisfied and thus you’ll never be faithful. This leaves bisexuals stigmatized as being dirty and promiscuous. You’re probably just a straight person experimenting anyway, unless of course you act gay. Then you’re just a gay person who can’t admit it.
In retrospect, being bisexual isn’t being half-straight (Eureka!). Sexuality is fluid and can be thought of as existing on a spectrum. While some homosexuals go through a period of identifying identify as a bisexual, it’s simply people exploring different labels as they learn more about who they are. Bisexuality is legitimate, and it isn’t a sexuality that leaves people incapable of monogamy. A person’s gender is just one out of many characteristics of a person, and just because you find multiple aspects attractive, it doesn’t mean you’ll never be satisfied unless you have them all.
Maybe you like redheads and brunettes, or you like both cat-people and dog-people. If you settle down and marry a redheaded cat-person, does that mean you’re going to need to go and have sex with a brunette and play with her dog in secret? Of course not, that’s absurd. Similarly, bisexuals are capable of being in committed relationships with either a man or woman (What?!).
And because of the myths and stigmas around bisexuality and prejudice from both the queer and straight communities, many bisexuals remain in the closet, despite the fact that they are the vast majority of the queer community. And that’s why we need a day to celebrate bisexuality and be aware of the challenges bisexual people face.
We hope you have a very gay week! Whether that means happy or homosexual is up to your interpretation (but we suggest both).