Too Beautiful
 
Saturday, June 17, 2006

Ask not what that cute guy can do for you -- ask what he can do on you

Rachel Kramer Bussel has a hilarious column in the Village Voice, Gay Until Penetration (!!! -- this is surely the title of the year), about the vexing problem of metrosexuals. No one can tell if they're straight or gay! What to do!

Frankly I've never had a problem with someone asking me "So are you gay or what?" (My answer: "Sort of what.") I'm just flattered they care, you know.

Maybe I have a skewed perspective, but to tell you the truth oral sex goes a long way toward blurring sexual identity boundaries. Having been on the receiving end of some excellent dyke blowjobs, and given a few blow jobs myself, I tend to think it's not what team you play for, it's whether you love the game.

And I say this after having been last night to the annual Fresh Meat trans performance festival. There you see a lot of bouncy people doing dance, rap, performance art, etc. and part of the challenge is to establish a frame of reference. It's one thing to talk about queer sexuality, gender boundaries or the lack of them, the privilege of the penis and whatever else, and another to encounter people whose whole presence (at least in the context of that event) is about fucking with the issue of gender. Trans performance art is like those wiggle cards that show a slightly different image depending on what angle you're holding the card. My mind goes through a continual "This is a guy -- no, this is a dyke -- no, this is a transman who used to be a dyke -- who is presenting as male -- but..."

I love the ambiguity and even the discomfort this leaves me in. It's like wading in a swiftly flowing river while not being able to see the bottom, knowing that with your next step you could lose contact with the earth and be swept downstream. Sometimes one has to step with care, and sometimes the unsure footing leaves me a little anxious. But I would not want to live in a place without that river.


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