Three resolutions for the new year:So this is an attempt toward resolution 3, by reflecting on resolution 2. And maybe it will be a series.
1) Practice meditation and try to learn more about Buddhism.
2) Earn the label "queer."
3) Write regularly in a forum that encourages investigation and reflection.
In truth, resolutions 1 and 3 were there to justify the second one. Or to frame it, or to obscure it a little bit so it wasn't hanging out there by itself attracting all the attention. I'm not sure I would choose that again. The fact is, almost nobody commented on resolution 2. Maybe they didn't know what to do with it. But I wanted people to ask what it meant.
And my answer is, I don't know.
This started out of a period of loneliness and horniness, when Reg was in Detroit and I was back in Brooklyn, and I was probably feeling entitled to do what the hell I wanted as a result of the house thing and as a result of the Manhunt thing. So I'd downloaded a couple of phone apps, Grindr and Scruff, and on this particular evening, the fourth of January, I was preferring Scruff and I was browsing the profiles and maybe occasionally giving or getting a woof, I don't know. And then I came across a profile with a possibly hot but slightly goofy picture, with lots of things that matched to me and lots of things that didn't. I could quote it here and maybe at some point I will. But for now it's enough to say that it was a profile that was rare in its openness, and in its - I'm not sure how to say this - quiet and thoughtful tone. Somebody had put some effort into this profile. (More than I had in mine.)
But this seemed like a guy who might have a certain amount of patience with someone who didn't know the first thing about transgender people.
The second thing that caught my attention was that under "What I'm looking for", it said:
queers (!)
In my fairly limited experience, there aren't too many guys in personal ads who describe themselves as "queer," nor indicate that they're looking for queers. Maybe I'm just looking in the wrong places; maybe the pictures that attract my attention are attached to guys who tend not to think in those terms. I don't know. That's not the point. The point is, to my surprise, I was attracted to a guy who was attracted to guys who are queer.
And I have never thought of myself as queer.
And suddenly that's curious to me. And problematic. Suddenly I want to be able to call myself queer.
I'm not sure where that came from. Probably a lot of things; probably working somewhat unhappily in the Jersey City, Alabama office, where there was mocking of gay people at the holiday party. Probably a desire to be in the streets instead of the cubicles. But in any case, I didn't - don't - feel entitled to the term, to the label. There's something I'm not doing, or maybe something in my conception of myself that I haven't opened up to, that prevents me from calling myself queer. I think I want that to stop.
I was talking with Yeshwant about this today, and among other things he and I noted, more or less simultaneously, that there are plenty of people in the world who are perfectly content to call me queer. There's no special qualification for it, I suppose, other than a willingness to live outside of gender norms. Taking it up the ass probably qualifies as a willingness to live outside of gender norms. And yet: I wouldn't claim "queer" for myself.
So I think this year of being queer, of earning the label, is really about finding out what it takes for me to feel that I've earned it. It's about figuring out what queer means.
And I'm trying to document that here, although this post (or the full version of it, anyway), might remain private for a while.
Red Hook, Jan 25.
And I have never thought of myself as queer.
And suddenly that's curious to me. And problematic. Suddenly I want to be able to call myself queer.
I'm not sure where that came from. Probably a lot of things; probably working somewhat unhappily in the Jersey City, Alabama office, where there was mocking of gay people at the holiday party. Probably a desire to be in the streets instead of the cubicles. But in any case, I didn't - don't - feel entitled to the term, to the label. There's something I'm not doing, or maybe something in my conception of myself that I haven't opened up to, that prevents me from calling myself queer. I think I want that to stop.
I was talking with Yeshwant about this today, and among other things he and I noted, more or less simultaneously, that there are plenty of people in the world who are perfectly content to call me queer. There's no special qualification for it, I suppose, other than a willingness to live outside of gender norms. Taking it up the ass probably qualifies as a willingness to live outside of gender norms. And yet: I wouldn't claim "queer" for myself.
So I think this year of being queer, of earning the label, is really about finding out what it takes for me to feel that I've earned it. It's about figuring out what queer means.
And I'm trying to document that here, although this post (or the full version of it, anyway), might remain private for a while.
Red Hook, Jan 25.