A Tale of Two Faces

Got into an interesting discussion with Finton today following my Gay Pride outpourings. It encouraged me to explore some topics I've been giving a lot of thought to, and has allowed me privilege to expose myself as a hypocrite.

It all relates to my passionate defence of gay culture and my clashes with friends who disassociate themselves from corporate gay.

While it chokes up my trans affiliations, it clearly comes down to biological sex. I can hang out with the fluffy gay boys and find them endearing and cute, because it’s not assumed that I’m part of their world. If you tried to take me to Candy Bar you’d have to prize my stiffened body out the door, cos much as I love the gay world, I find little in dyke culture that appeals. You’d be as likely to find me on a lesbian march as you would be to find my anti-gay friends at Pride. So do I really have the right to tut them?

I love the gay boys – the drag queens, the leather boys, the bears. The lesbians? They’re kind of dull. That’s why I’ve chosen to embrace the word “queer”. It’s strong, it’s challenging and it opens the doors to a much wider world. Queer could be anything – it’s transsexual, transgender, it has threesomes, it’s celibate, it can change its mind as often as it wants. Queer frees you from the shackles of having an assumed pattern of behaviour that’s dictated by others of your kind.

There’s more to my gender identity than fancying a small number of women. The fact I’ve been celibate for almost a decade immediately marks me as queer. That I’m a lesbian that’s only really comfortable in male company is another tick in the box. That I’m platonically in love with an androgyne? That’ll be all, thank you.

I’ll continue to champion my gay boys in the same way I champion my trannys, as a fascinated bystander. They all brighten my life and make me happy, whatever they want to be called.