Hump Day Happiness #8

It’s been far too long, mostly due to the fact that I am so fucking happy with my own life that I have no time to blog. That said, without any further ado, I present you with a list of happy things.

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In slightly older news, on June 3, 2010, Obama signed a memorandum that will extend benefits to same-sex partners of federal employees (as reported on Carnal Nation). These benefits will include access to medical treatments, relocation aid, credit unions and fitness centers. However The Defense of Marriage Act will still prevent same sex partners from receiving primary health insurance and pension benefits. At least it is a step in the right direction.

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In gay marriage news, Iceland legalized gay marriage with an unanimous vote (via Reuters) and a lesbian couple became the first same-sex couple to wed in Portugal (via Geek Porn Girl).

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Finally, the U.S. Department of State announced a new policy regarding gender change on passports. Citizens now need only present certification from a medical physician that they have undergone clinical treatment for gender transition in order to have their passport report a new gender. During the transition process, applicants can also to obtain a limited-validity passport. Sexual reassignment surgery is no longer required to be issues a passport.

Feeling Femme

I’ve been feeling all sorts of feminine lately.

I want to grow my hair out again. I love how cute and easy it is at this length, but when I look at pictures of me, at seventeen, with curls down to the middle of my back, I miss it. It was really pretty when I cared to manage it.

I want to dress cute. I want to wear skirts. I want to wear necklaces. I want funky belts and colorful shoes. I want to have adorable outfits a la fit for a femme and the women of academichic. I want to look fucking adorable (and I’d like to do so without people questioning my queerness).

Why this sudden urge? I have a couple of theories.

One, I am less than happy with my body these days for a few reasons (including but not limited to injuries, heat, demotivation, and lack of money). If I don’t think I’m attractive on my own, perhaps some adorable clothing and a touch of mascara will help.

Two, I have a girlfriend. Now this will sounds stupid, but I often avoid dressing “too girly,” because then everyone reads me as straight. I’m not single, and I’m not looking, so it doesn’t matter if everyone thinks I’m straight. And when I’m with Linds, and she’s looking all tough and butch, everyone assumes we’re a pair of dykes anyways. She also tells me how beautiful she thinks I am and all the parts of my body she loves. With someone offering such positive reinforcement, I feel like showing it all off, short dresses and all.

And that is all I have to say about this. Just sharing what I’m feeling at the moment for no particular reason, other than that I feel like sharing.

Being Seen

Like many other bloggers, I’ve written about femme invisibility. In the last couple of months, I’ve come to the realization that my visibility, or lack thereof, depends largely on who I am seen with.

Historically, I have dated women on the “feminine” side of the spectrum. They had long hair, they wore skirts and dresses, they carefully applied mascara. When I was out with these women, we were perceived as best friends, sorority sisters, or drunk college girls looking for attention. Even when I was holding hands with or kissing a feminine girlfriend, we were met with comments of “I know you aren’t really gay, you are both way too pretty” and “So, am I the threesome you are looking for tonight?”

With Dora, no one knew what to think. She had long hair and noticeable breasts, yes, but she also wore men’s shirts with ties. In the eyes of society, and indeed my family, we were an ambigious duo. Were we best friends? Were we romantic partners? Our actions were usually what gave us away, but if we behaved ourselves, our relationship remained shrouded in mystery.

When I was seeing the boy, my perceived sexual identity was constantly fluctuating depending on how his gender was read. One minute, we were a straight couple. The next we were a butch/femme lesbian couple. And back and forth. Endlessly. I was both visibility queer and heteronormative, often at the same time.

This is all part of a larger trend. As I date women who lean towards the butch side of the spectrum, I find myself more visibly queer. When I am walking hand in hand with Linds, her with her short mohawk and cargo shorts, me in tight jeans and a fitted tank top, we are gay. We are gay, and you can see us. We are visible. We are role models to young teenagers looking for something, someone, anyone, with whom they can identify. We are saying “We’re here and we’re queer” without saying anything at all.

We are also targets. In the Piedmont Park area of Atlanta, someone zoomed by in an SUV, rolled down their window, and screamed “Fucking dykes!” Such words had never been directed at me before. I know Linds has heard that before. That and far worse.

I admire her, and everyone like her, for being visible. You are what people see when they think “queer,” and thus you are the ones who must constantly stand up for yourself. You are targeted far more than I will ever be. I can fly under the radar. It can be difficult to not be seen by your own people, and while that can hurt, I rarely worry for my personal safety. The preacher on the street corner spouting hatred doesn’t direct his tirade towards me. When I shop in the men’s department, salespeople assume I’m shopping for my boyfriend. Drunken frat boys might hit on me, but they never threaten me. (None of this is to say that any one group of people has it any easier or harder than any other group. Quite simply, we have different experiences and face different challenges. If you haven’t watched Ivan E. Coyote’s “To all of the kick ass, beautiful fierce femmes out there…” you need to do so ASAP. She words it way better than I ever could.)

Last night, I talked to Linds about this blog post and asked how I should refer to her. I explained what I was writing about and she asked, “So how do you feel about being  visible because you are with me?

Well, I love it and I hate it. I love that I am finally seen for who I am. I like that my sexual orientation is not being constantly questioned. It also makes me nervous. I’m used to the safety that invisibility offers. I feel like she can never visit my workplace. I can’t introduce her as a friend first and a girlfriend later; the girlfriend is already assumed. I worry that we are mirroring heteronormative society, that people will think she is the “man” and I am the “woman.” I also don’t want too worry too much. It is amazing. She is amazing. And I want to enjoy every minute of it without bringing in my academic background in Women’s Studies. As a dear friend advised, I can’t write a dissertation on my own relationships.

Looking back, I’ve always been attracted to slightly butchier women. The summer before 4th grade, I worshiped Dolphin, a girl scout camp counselor with spiked blond hair, baggy cargo shorts, and a British accent. At twelve, I told my mom, “I met this really cool girl named Robyn. She’s fifteen, and she has short hair, and wears boys shorts that she draws on with Sharpies. She doesn’t shave her legs and doesn’t care what people think of her.” (I should have known I was a lesbian then. And as fate would have it, Robyn and I dated four years later.) So while that attraction has been there for over a decade, I was always reluctant to act on it. Dating femme girls was safe. I could be gay, but not too gay. Call me a bad queer, but that concern totally influenced many of the decisions I’ve made over the years.

I’m feel more comfortable with my own identity these days, as well as with the varying ways that people may perceive me. I still wish that more people would trust me when I say I’m queer without requiring external evidence. I’d like to not always be defined sexually solely by who I’m dating, but also by what I say. On the flip side, I also recognize that change is slow, and this is the world we live in. All in all, I’ve been very lucky indeed.

Finally, to those who have made me a little more visible over the years- Robyn, Shane, Dora, and Linds- I thank you. I’ve learned from your challenges and I hope you’ve learned a little from mine. And hot damn, the world needs more visibly queer couples like us.

Hump Day Happiness #7

A few happy things for your Wednesday, presented earlier than usual.

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It’s the season of Hot 100 Lists. The bad feminist in me loves to look at pictures of beautiful women, but at the same time, the lsits have their downfalls- namely that these women exist in the mythical land of celebrity.

Autostraddle has redeemed this problem with their Official 2010 Hot 100: Real Queer Girls. What could be better than beautiful queer women? I was smiling all over the place.

Their list from last year was equally amazing, although it relied upon a slightly different interpretation of hot. Check it out.

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Daniel Radcliffe, of Harry Potter fame, filmed a PSA for The Trevor Project, a crisis and suicide prevention helpline for for LGBTQ youth. It’s nice to see him using his celebrity for such an essential cause.

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Finally, this VW commercial shows just how much fun can change our daily habits. Not to plug Volkswagen or anything, but I simply love this.

Hump Day Happiness #6

I haven’t blogged in a while. I have been out having all sorts of great adventures. My sincerest apologies.

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While Florida lacks a state-wide inclusive non-discrimination policy, various cities and counties are passing their own ordinances.

As reported in the Tallahassee Democrat, Leon County voted yesterday in a 5-2 decision to broaden their human rights ordinance. The changes offer stronger protections from discrimination in general provisions, employment discrimination, equal access to places of public accommodations and fair housing and include protections for GLBT citizens.

As a current resident of Leon Country, I’m quite pleased.

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dapperQ posted a touching letter from a mother about her 15-year-old daughter’s desire to wear men’s clothing. I’m always touched by caring and accepting families. Read it and smile.

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On a totally unrelated note, I love PhD comics. While I am not yet a graduate student, I already feel connected to the world of grad students, largely through “the ex.” This comic cracked me up:

Hump Day Happiness #5

There is a lot of happy this week. Smile.

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As reported on Carnal Nation, China lifted a decades-old ban that had prevented HIV+ people from entering the country for travel or immigration. (Side note: Did you know that the United States did not lift our similar ban until October 30, 2009?)

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Also as reported on Carnal Nation (can you tell I love this site?), the Brazilian National Health Minister suggested that Brazilians have more sex to counteract hypertension. Like most developed countries, high blood pressure rates continue to increase. Health Minster Gomes Temporao told the public:

‘Dance, have sex, keep a stable weight, do physical exercise, and above all measure your blood pressure. It’s not a joke, I’m serious. Getting physical exercise regularly also means having sex, obviously protected sex.”

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Speaking of Sex, Babeland is selling a solar powered vibrator. After eight hours of sun exposure, the bullet vibe can keep you buzzing for an hour. Not a bad idea for the environmentally conscious toy-lover. I’d love to set this outside my tent on a camping trip. Apparently the “charged” light also doubles as a flashlight. Practical and fun.

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Sociological Images is a great blog that explores the sociological meaning of images. A post this week explored the differences between practical and moral approaches to “problematic” behaviors. Instead of policing behaviors as morally wrong, some countries or cultures choose to find practical solutions. This sign from Aberdeen Pub in Edinburgh, Scotland cracked me up.

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Blogger Grace Chu of Grace The Spot shared this amazing video spoof. Forget J-Lo’s “Jenny from the Block” this is “Jew Lo from the Block,” the tale of a Jewish girl from Long Island who moves to San Francisco and comes out. Not politically correct by any means, but totally worth it.

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This letter to feminists has been floating around. I found it featured on Mr. Sexsmith’s tumblr site, but I’m not sure where it originated. Wherever it came from, it’s a nice reminder that feminist are doing it right.

You get so tired. You get so sick of the homophobia, the sexism, the culture of rape jokes and wife beating cartoons. But today you can take 30 seconds and smile. Somewhere right now there is a daddy dancing along while his femmy boy sings Lady Gaga. Somewhere right now there is a little girl suiting up to go play football with her peewee team. Somewhere there is a woman taking off the clothes she hates and pulling on a pair of pants. And there are boys holding hands in front of Dairy Queen and there are girls on their first date at the mall. There is a mom driving her son to the court so he can change his name from Brittney to Brandon. There is a family supporting their daughter after she reveals sexual abuse. There is a foster parent hesitantly walking into his first PFLAG meeting. And there exists more freedom, more equality, more safety than has ever existed before in the history of humanity. Of course it’s not enough. But it is amazing just the same. And you have done this. This did not happen despite our tears and our sweat, our humiliation and betrayal. This happened because of it.

Keep fighting.

Keep being that “annoying” dude pointing out every sexist remark.

Keep arguing with your freinds about not saying “fag.”

Keep voting.

Keep protesting.

And don’t you EVER let the other side get you down. They know that wearing you out is all they have left. What they do not know is that because of you, their children are safer. Because of you, our schools talk about bullying. Because of you, sexual harassment is illegal at their place of business.

Brothers and sisters, I am leaving my work as an advocate. I am moving to a new town and a new career. Feminally is not going anywhere- but in my last few days as a professional feminist I wanted to let you all know something very important:

you’re doing it right.

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Speaking of feminism, Caseface123 on Flickr has a gallery in which she asked people to hold up signs explaining what feminism means to me. Not everyone has great positive thoughts about feminism, but it’s a fun gallery to look through.

Finally, this comic, from aagblog, seems to sum up everything.

Pronoun Games

I’d garner that most queer people have played the pronoun game. I know I am guilty, sometimes more than others. The last few weeks I’ve been especially guilty, and it seems to me there are multiple pronoun games I’m playing.

First, there is the game of avoiding pronouns; “I am seeing someone new.” Depending on how good you are, this can come across as varying degrees of awkward. Instead of saying, “She took me out to dinner,”I could say “Someone took me out to dinner,” “My partner took me out to dinner,” or  “We went out to dinner.” I frequently play this game at work; for example, “I got a nasty message from my ex” or “I have a hot date this evening.” I leave out the pronouns. No one suspects anything. Right?

The second game involves using the expected pronoun, but for some reason I’ve justified as valid. For example, my doctor knows I have had sexual relationships with women. On a recent doctor’s visit, I justified using female pronouns for a FTM partner because my doctor is concerned with my sexual health and pregnancy prevention. Even if said partner identifies as male, my doctor need not worry about the risks that come with a “typical” male partner. I can say “she” and move on with the visit, while receiving proper care. Sure, I could also explain the whole situation, but then I become “educator'” when I don’t care to be. And quite frankly, it doesn’t matter that much. I’m there for an annual exam, not to explain my entire dating history, my sexual orientaiton, and other’s gender identity. Of course, I have mixed thoughts on playing this variation of the pronoun game. On the one hand, it protects me and my privacy. On the other hand, I am avoiding conversations and discussions that might make it easier for other queers down the road.

The final pronoun game I’ve noted is the game of straight up lying. This is when I magically transform my girlfriend from a “she” to a “he” because I don’t want to be judged, because I feel unsafe, or because the actual pronoun is irrelevant, but I want to share a story. This is when I tell the old man sitting next to me at the folk festival wearing a Harvard hat that my ex-boyfriend got a research job there and that he is moving in three months. In reality, it’s actually my ex-girlfriend and she is moving in three weeks. The old man has a confederate flag sewn to one sleeve and a cross around his neck. He doesn’t need to know and I don’t want to tell him. I feel most guilty when I play this pronoun game. I know I’m playing for purely selfish reasons. I should be open, proud. I should be busting down stereotypes. Instead I’m presenting as straight instead of lesbian or lesbian instead of queer.

What about you? What pronoun games do you play? Why do you play them? Do you feel guilty or are they a necessary evil?