The Case for "Queer."

This post was submitted by Melody, a new reader and proud native of PG County.

In contrast to the mainstream gay rights movement of the 1970's, which embraced all sexualities and forms of gender expression in bringing gays "out of the closets and into the streets", the contemporary movement seems bent on doing just the opposite: normalizing gayness, putting it in a box, and portraying gays and lesbians as being "just like everybody else." Such a rigid paradigm reduces the entire spectrum of gender and sexuality to dichotomized identities that do not apply to many of us. Hence, the term "queer," which (perhaps fortunately) has become such a convoluted term. I started using this label when I gave up trying to understand myself in black and white.

The other day, an attractive male bank teller complimented me on my "perfume." He was so sweet and genuine about it that I couldn't help but smile, especially after he kept sniffing (through the glass!), smiling and repeating how good I smelled. I eventually admitted that it wasn't perfume, but the body butter I use--a mix of shea butter, cocoa butter, tangerine oil, almond oil, and other all-natural goodies. I've been complimented on my scent before, but never by a man. I really appreciated it. And I told him as much.

I relayed the incident to my mother and godmother a few days later. I'm out to both of these women, though they have different attitudes about my sexuality. My mother was pretty homophobic at first, but now prefers to simply not acknowledge — let alone, talk about — my sexuality. My godmother, on the other hand, is very supportive and doesn't mind talking about it openly. After telling them about the cute bank teller, my mom grunted (I think she has given up trying to understand my sexuality), while my godmother replied, "Well, you weren't interested in him, anyway, right?" I saw what was coming and tried to circumvent a discussion about my sexuality, but my godmother kept pushing. "You don't have a problem with Melody's orientation, do you?" I was so embarrassed for my mother and regretted having brought up the topic in the first place. My mom made no pretensions about how much she despised the topic of conversation when she replied sarcastically, "Mmm-mmm. No. Melody can be whatever she wants to be."

I figured that moment wasn't the best time to tell my godmother that I no longer identify as lesbian, but as queer. Part of me hates taking something as base as sexuality and turning it into what many perceive as a head matter. I also hate confusing straight people, especially the ones who have known me throughout my numerous flip-flops between the labels "gay" (or "lesbian") and "bi." None ever seemed to fit. I like women and men. But, to me, "bi" implies that my attraction to the two sexes is the same in equal degrees. And, for me, it isn't. Or hasn't been. Many people don't get that.

I've also begun to come out to some of my friends as gender queer (my term for occasionally binding, packing, and presenting as male or androgynous), which has been decidedly harder for people to understand. The only straight person I came out as gender queer to didn't quite know what to make of it, though she seemed supportive. I framed the discussion as gender being something that is fluid for me: most days I feel female, but some days I feel male or somewhere in-between. I watched as what I was saying slowly sunk it, but it was obvious that the concept was foreign to her.

I don't blame her, though. After all, our society seems to be built around dichotomies; they're easy to understand and talk about. They are "safe" in the sense that there is no gray area or room for misunderstanding. The idea of just being a woman-identified woman who likes women (a lesbian) appeals to my desire to conform, but it would be dishonest. I never really thought of myself as a radical in this regard, as someone who actively works to dismantle norms ruling sexuality and gender; I just sought to be honest with myself...in effect, subverting our society's obsession with dichotomies. If more people were honest with themselves, then we wouldn't be as reliant upon them.