I Am Not a Straight Girl, Part 781781781


Seriously.

I mean, seriously.

No, really.

I mean it.

I am not like you!Tongue out

Okay, so I fought for gay marriage, but now it’s like being gay is just a side effect of otherwise joining the patriarchy for all you’re worth and assimilating.

NOT!

For me, not being a straight girl means that I don’t give a shit about the male gaze, don’t feel comfortable being a beta, don’t conform to gender roles or expectations, and seriously don’t want to please.

I also hate to process and be analyzed. HATE.

My feminism is deeply personal, and as much focused on how women treat each other as how men treat us. Women are socialized to go for power through the back door, to silence each other when someone strays outside the pack, to be pleasant and nice and positive, and to connect through grooming each other verbally. Also, anger, openly expressed, is a definite no.

I refer you to Hot-Headed Lesbian Paisan, the homicidal lesbian terrorist who regularly shoots her TV as my ongoing role model for life (except when I’m practicing Buddhism).  http://www.amazon.com/Complete-Hothead-Paisan-Homicidal-Terrorist/dp/1573440841.

Or my new girl: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aEjGQB9BKWA

Being queer is much more than my sexual or romantic orientation. It is my stance in the world, my distrust of authority, my desire to create my identity out of my own true experience–not only my refusal to conform, but my inability to understand why anyone would want to…and my inability to see the cues because my truest unconscious values are profoundly different than the mainstream.

Basically, I was born this way.

If being queer (or lesbian) is more about the female gaze, and if it’s more about the queer female gaze, and if we all develop toward the gaze of the desired other, then I grew up believing that being openly smart and powerful, being strong and funny, being vulnerable as an act of profound trust, was what my imagined other would want.

My mother had to sledgehammer into my head that showing off my intelligence would lose me all male interest. I hated that she insisted so much on this kind of hiding and I still struggle with her lessons. But I learned something valuable–a woman could be as sexist as any man, if she’d internalized the values of the mainstream.

Which, get real, we all do.

I don’t want to be sexist. My commitment, as a queer person, is to continually play with my gender expression, to deeply support my partner’s explorations as well, to listen to everyone–women, men, children, trans people of all colors–with my best and most respectful attention, even when what they say triggers me or is just a bummer.

Everything political is personal. And visa versa.

I find it difficult to listen and set aside judgment when anyone in my life is espousing, overtly or not, values with which I disagree. How do I step into their world view instead of insisting me and mine are better? And how do I do that when they’re not offering me the same courtesy?

How do I tell all the straight people in my life that I’m not really like them and if they truly want to embrace gay people, then they need to quit pretending that we’re only different in who we marry?

I don’t know. Mixing Buddhism with Hot-Headed Lesbian Paisan is, to be frank, often a f*(king drag. I’d rather just shoot something.

Except I’m a pacifist.

But I am not, and never will be, a straight girl.

Thank all the gods that have ever been for that.

 

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