Bisexuality is not a stepping stone between "straight" and "gay."

Content advisory: use of the word "queer" throughout, in a neutral context.

Were The World Mine is one of my favorite movies.

Firstly, it's a musical. Secondly, it's about one of my favorite plays (retroactively - this movie is what got me into Shakespeare in the first place). Thirdly, it's about an out queerbro who suffers frustrations but finds happiness in the end. I am an out queerbro who suffers frustrations, so it's good for me.

There's just one line that bugs me.

"Firstly, Shakespeare has never been proven to be a homosexual. Bisexual, perhaps."

The context of this quote is as follows: For some reason, all of the students participating in a school performance of A Midsummer Night's Dream have started falling in love with each other. In an all-boys' school. Parents are freaked out about all the homosex and are claiming that the play is somehow responsible because Shakespeare was - to quote the dialogue - queer. The above line is the play director's rebuttal.

Which is not a rebuttal at all.

Bisexual (and pansexual) people are queer, too. We're defined in part by our being attracted to members of the same sex. Just because we also like people of the opposite sex does not mean we somehow lose our queer status. Or our magical queer powers of turning others to our orientation.

Quite the opposite, in fact. Bisexual people in media are often shown encouraging formerly straight characters to explore their queer side.

Without that component to the argument, her "rebuttal" comes across as extremely weak, essentially no more than a matter of semantics, or some nerd's personal pride at making sure that dead, tertiary character's sexual orientations are properly understood. Pointless.

Here's another one:

Earlier today, I read an article listing a few individuals throughout history (all white, natch) who were also gay. One of the names mentioned was Hans Christian Anderson, who while not definitely gay, demonstrated some interest in men based on his correspondences with various men that he new. The article explains this by saying that he was probably "at least bisexual."

In other words, if he wasn't a whole queer, he was at least half queer.

The general theme I'm getting from both of these works is that many people see bi/pansexuality as some sort of "middle ground" between being gay and being straight. Which is not remotely true.

Someone is not "at least" bisexual, because bisexuality is not lesser than homosexuality. Bisexuality, to repeat myself, is a fully fledged sexual orientation in its own right. My own attraction to men and my attraction to women (as well as my attraction to individuals of nonbinary genders) are tied in with each other in such a way as to be inseparable. For example, I have to reconcile my choice of pursuing a woman with my desire to be with a man. My love of men and masculine things causes me to be very attracted to masculine and crossdressing women (without disregarding their womanhood), while my attraction to feminine things is often strongest when attached to a competent, interesting, and strong individual of any sex.

I doubt that this can accurately describe how most bisexual or pansexual people's orientations work, but the point I hope to make is that my sexual orientation is its own beast, different from either gay or straight people. I may be differently queer, but I am not less queer.

We are not "just" bisexual. We are not "at least" bisexual. We are simply bi/pan. Do not talk about us as if we're some kind of transitional form between straight and gay.

Gay men: It's time to stop enabling the abuse.

Gaybros, I am disappoint.

It has come to my attention that some of you are letting straight people walk all over you. This is unacceptable and it needs to stop.

My first complaint is with Teen Wolf creator/director Jeff Davis. Look, I know it's hard being an out gay person in the industry, even harder to convince people to buy a gay character. But do you have to keep making Danny the butt of Stiles' awkward sexual harassment? Why are you doing that? Are you afraid that we're going to forget that he's gay if you don't shoehorn in terrible scenes of him ogling shirtless Derek? And that line "you may bat for the other team, but you still play?" Really? Danny is an amazing character, but stop using his sexuality as a joke. You're insulting and embarrassing us.

(On a less complainy and more requesty note, don't bother writing him in a boyfriend. We all know that Stiles is only straight for Lydia and that he would much rather be boning/getting boned by Danny. Do that.)

My second complaint is directly to the friends of the guy I spoke to the other day, and any guy like him. He tells me that he told you that he would punch you if you so much as hit on him, and you said "fair enough." Where the fuck is your self-esteem, guys? When did it become okay to agree to physical assault just because of your sexual orientation? I'm sure you're probably friends with this guy for any number of reasons - you've been friends for years, he's the only straight guy you can hang out with without feeling threatened, whatever - but seriously, let's see some self-respect. Tell your friend that it was not cool for him to deck you because you got drunk and came on to him. Frankly, people have done much worse things while drunk. If he's really that sensitive about it, then he's not as comfortable with your sexuality as he claims and you should dump his ass. I've never met you, but I've met him, and trust me, it ain't worth it. In fact, that's why I'm not friends with him.

In general:

Don't laugh self-deprecatingly when people tell gay jokes.
Don't let people tell you that your sexuality is offensive.

I don't always succeed at this. I'm pre-everything and transgender, so it's not easy for me to explain to someone that I am a GAY MAN when she (a straight woman) tells me that it's offensive to use the word "gay" to describe same-sex relations. Frankly, self-respect is an everyday battle for me to achieve. But I think that we can all do better. And we owe it to ourselves to do so.

Another Guide To Writing Good Slash

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Your penis is not a dowsing rod for uteri.

I bring this up because some douchebags who presume to write fiction will include woman characters who successfully disguise themselves as men, and then man characters will be Inexplicably Attracted, causing them to have a breakdown and wonder if they're really teh ghey!omgz. But of course they aren't! Because even though they couldn't tell at all, the person they are attracted to had a Really Real Uterus buried deep down underneath all those clothes, and that makes it heterosexual.

This is bullshit.

Dear "Straight" Man: Your sex drive does not magically know the True Sex of whoever you're looking at. If a woman is successfully passing as a man, albeit a pretty one, to the point where you would never ever question her sex, and you're attracted to her, then you're attracted to her as a feminine man. Period. If you're not attracted to her normally, but when she gets in a certain light she looks a whole lot like a woman and suddenly you're into her, then you're attracted to her as a woman. Otherwise, that inexplicable feeling you're getting is - as much as I hate to say it - just a little bit gay. But hey, good news! Being gay, bisexual, straight-with-exceptions or whatever you are is not a bad thing. It's not! It doesn't make you less of a man. It doesn't make you less of a human being. It just means that you sometimes like dudes.

Dear writers: See above.

In addition to the fact that you are essentially assigning psychic uterus-detecting powers to men's penises, this trope is deeply offensive because it implies that someone's biological sex is their "true sex" and always trumps the way they're presenting. This effectively de-genders all transgender individuals and undermines the validity of those who are attracted to them as their true gender.

Oh, and in honor of my asswipe family: no, the answer is not "pheremones." Pheremones play a role in attraction; they are not a fucking panacea. How do we know this? Because trans women whose bodies are currently fueled by testosterone have successfully attracted the attentions of heterosexual men who, upon finding out that the woman in question does not actually possess a vagina, throw a fit and kill her because she threatens their heterosexuality and masculinity.

Which is, in part, because assholes like you keep writing stories that perpetuate the "true sex" myth.

Fuck you, Vampire Diaries writers.

Y'know, I was enjoying this show. Aside from the racism and the characters constantly throwing their heterosexuality in my face, I was liking it. I liked Caroline. She's a great representative of blonde characters. I liked Damon. He's a great representative of the sexy, even if I wouldn't trust him as far as I could throw him.

Then one of your writers is like, "You guys are gonna love this! We're gonna introduce a gay character!"

And I'm like, "Wheeee!"

So I wait for episodes upon episodes to meet this gay character, and it turns out it's Rose. Well, apparently she's bi, or she's only straight for Damon, or she was horny and desperate (and hey, I can't blame her), but that's really not the point.

The point is, in the same episode that Rose comes out, she suffers a fatal werewolf bite. Then she dies in the next episode.

WHAT. THE. FUCK.

I should just point out that I've only just now found out about this because I was avoiding watching the show because I KNEW THIS WAS GOING TO HAPPEN.

Fuck you all. You are truly a collective of ass-bigots and I will not be watching your show any further. Except in ways that will prevent you from getting any money from it, when I'm feeling masochistic. And when I do I won't talk about it, unless you manage to do something that pisses me off even worse (read: go after trans people).

I am very, very angry today.

In my state, we have a sizeable Latin@ population. Mostly descendants of Mexicans. A lot of these Mexican-descended people are lower-class - you can tell, because they make up between ten and twenty percent of the local population but until the economy crashed they made up a sizeable population of the people shopping at Wal-Mart (yet were almost never seen at Costco or Fred Meyer).

The other day, while my mother and I were shopping for groceries, I stopped to look at a stand of Valentine's Day cards (or Singles Shaming Day cards, whichever you like). I discovered that all of the cards that depicted humans were showing peach-skinned people (to no surprise on my part). I pointed this out to my dear white mother, who immediately informed me that (to paraphrase) "they probably get the cards in from somewhere else where they don't have that population; I doubt they have any control over what they get in."

Later, my sister remarked that if I asked the store employees (again, to paraphrase), "they'd probably tell you that they have the cards with animals for the non-whites."

I've been thinking about this today, and I'm still mad.

• I'm mad because my low-class, brown, yet straight neighbors - be they Mexican-descended or any "other" race, can't afford to shop at a store that actually cares enough about them to represent them in the merchandise.
• I'm mad because that's exactly what the damn store employee would say.
• I'm mad because if I want to get a card for me and my hypothetical significant other, I have to fully transition (whatever the hell that means - T, chest surgery, phallo) and spend the rest of my life with a white woman; any other possibility rules me out of the group. And if I didn't toe the line in relationship terms, and complained about the lack of cards representing us, someone would point me to the animal cards. And it's the same way for most people in queer relationships, regardless of their skin color. For the same reason that they won't make cards with brown people for my non-peach, but straight neighbors - THEY ARE BIGOTS.
• I'm mad because, when I shop for cards, I can expect any card that shows a man dominating a woman to be "funny" in a "yuk-yuk, he's in charge, all right" way and any card that shows a woman dominating a man to be "funny" in a "yeah, my wife walks ALL over me, too - why can't she do everything I want?" way. NEVER MIND the lack of same-sex and/or brown people cards depicting this, much less in a positive light.
• I'm mad because anyone in a committed relationship with more than one person, even if they are peach-skinned and heteronormative, can give up on finding ANY card representing them, even if they're white. Even if they're rich. Not even the animals. Heck, if they tried to get a custom job done they would risk gross-out reactions, bigotry, and potential threat to their physical selves.
  
• I'm mad because if I complain about this to someone who doesn't have any problems finding people like them on greeting cards, I can expect to be answered with "Well, I can't find people who look just like me, either," (i.e., HAVE THEIR EXACT FACE) or "So just don't get one with people on it," or (class privilege a-comin') "So just make a custom card with your faces on it. That would be romantic." LIKE AS IF I OWN A PRINTER.
• But I'm mainly mad because my straight brown neighbors who shop at Wal-Mart are a VISIBLE DEMOGRAPHIC, and a not insignificant one, and Wal-Mart puts out its merchandise like they don't even exist. My non-heteronormativity (and that of my neighbors of all colors)... well, I know that they actively hate it around here. And yeah, that pisses me off, but the failure to acknowledge brownness, specifically, feels like they don't even care. WHY THE FUCK DO YOU NOT CARE. Owait. Because white people all around you keep telling you how demanding those brown folks are and how ignoring them is the best way to deal with racism. Yup yup.
• The cards depicting fat people aren't exactly charitable, either. We're either slobs or we've somehow "fallen apart."
  

I know this is old, but DAYAAAAAMMMN.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IsPFDzAGb4A

I recently added a new label to my collection: submissive. Laughably, people with my taste in sex/romantic partners take a lot of flack for being "pussies" (hello, misogyny) or otherwise wimpy. This comes into direct conflict with the reality, which is that many of us (not including me at this time) willingly submit ourselves to ordeals that other people would find just plain miserable AND WE LIKE IT. So next time you meet a sub, let's have a little respect.

STFU, Joe-Bear

Over at Joe. My. God, literature is on death watch. The reason? "Teen Paranormal Romance" has its own section in a bookstore somewhere.

Really, Joe? REALLY? The proliferation of fantasy stories geared toward teenage girls means the death of all literature? MY GOD, man, how DARE we cater to a reading audience that isn't middle-class adult intellectuals?

Seriously, so what if it isn't stimulating or utterly brilliant or anything other than feel-good kitsch? I may point out at this point that a lot of gay men are known for their utterly irrational attachment to Judy Garland, Barbra Streisand, and/or Lady Gaga, and while I don't necessarily share this affection, I don't go whinging about the death of good music every time I see someone raving about Garland's alleged singing skills.

Some protest that these stories rot girls' brains, but so what? The last time I heard about comic books rotting kids' brains was... oh, never. It's always the romance stories that get singled out for criticism. People just have an allergic reaction to romantic literature, especially if it has a fantastic angle.

Now, if someone wants to complain about the stories setting unrealistic expectations, we might be able to get somewhere, but otherwise, STFU.

And then there's the other problem, summed up by one commenter:

"Literature Death Watch" So says every generation once it reaches a "certain age." I'm sure newspaper editorials said the same thing when Jackie Collins started to get published. She and her ilk didn't destroy lit and I don't think the Twilight novels will either.

Ex-fucking-actly. Schlock writing has been around ever since writing became a pastime available to multiple people. When people look back and see only the classics, it's not because every book ever written was gold. It's because all the crap that it was published alongside has been forgotten. Just like the bad writing that's being published now will be forgotten in another decade - just in time for someone to look at all the new garbage being published and declare that true literature is dead. They do the same shit with movies, and music, and every form of media we've had around long enough for some true classics to emerge.

It's not dead. It's never been dead; it'll never be dead. It's just tricky to find, as it's always been.

I Freakin' Love This Movie: In & Out.

Having spent a bit of time bitching about movies that were terrible (Chuck & Larry, It's A Boy/Girl Thing) I thought it was high time to talk about a movie that I love, and that movie is In & Out.

In & Out is a gay movie. Specifically, it's a gay, white, cisgendered, male, small-town, able, full-size, nondenominational-Christian movie, but it can be summed up pretty well as a gay white cisgendered movie, since those are the biggest cultural factors.

The story is about Howard Brackett, a mild-mannered English teacher who has been engaged to the same woman for three years. A few short days before his wedding, he is unintentionally outed by an earlier student of his during his Oscar acceptance speech. Hilarity ensues.

The premise of the movie is about the challenges Howard goes through as an involuntarily-outed gay man in a small, reserved, semi-conservative town. It does not go well - not only does he have to deal with the gossip of the locals, but his own self-made mess when he realizes that, in fact, he is gay.

Before I get to the meat of the review, I want to say this. This movie is so white and able it hurts. There are no POC in Greenleaf. None. This was probably done to bolster the idea of Greenleaf as a "wholesome" town, which is a sickening commentary on the perceived "wholesomeness" of white people. There are no clearly disabled people save an old woman with a walker and Howard's slightly mentally-challenged brother, who is treated as something of an embarrassment (not hugely, but still noticeably). Just to be clear, I have nothing against white movies about able people, but this one really made me stop and go "lolwhut?"

And that's really the worst I can say, because the rest of the movie is awesome.

In & Out attacks the kyriarchy on several fronts. First there's the obvious "gay" front - Howard's mishaps in being outed, then coming out, then being accepted. Then there's the "heteronormativity/gender nonconformist" front - while Howard is shown with some stereotypically gay traits that someone might jump on, it's also show that a lot of people in Greenleaf have something "gay" about them, from Howard's male hairstylist to his buddies who enjoy watching Barbra Streisand movies with him. Conformity to some oversexed idea of masculinity, the movie says, is overrated.

Next up: women and fatness. This movie had so much potential to go wrong here. Howard's fiancé, Emily, is a woman whose low self-esteem issues pushed her to lose weight in time to fit into the right size of wedding dress (which she succeeded at - and was continually miserable about because it was such a battle). Furthermore, it turns out that she forced herself to stay in a celibate relationship for three years just because she thought Howard was the only one who would have her, and whaddya know? She was pretty darned horny after all that time. She's messed up, and that could have gone really badly. As luck would have it, though, breaking up with Howard is the best thing that ever happened to her, as she later finds true love with someone who is both straight and into chubby ladies, and the lesson (as is true for Howard) is that you will be much happier if you're loved for who you are instead of forcing yourself into someone else's ideal.

Another great Emily thing was the breakdown/fight at the church, right after Howard comes out. She is pissed. I mean, really pissed. Her sudden exclamation of "Fuck Barbra Streisand!" is one of the best points of the movie, highlighting the sheer amount of rage and frustration she feels at being essentially lied to by the guy she was supposed to marry for three years. Her rage is totally understandable and justifiable, and whaddya know? The supporting characters feel the same way. Even Howard, who's just freaked out the entire town by coming out, lost his job, and is otherwise sort of despondent, takes the time to apologize for ruining her life. It's almost like this movie was written by a woman, rather than Paul Rudnick. And then she goes and finds true love with a guy who, at least in my eyes, is at least 3x hotter than she is. Win/win.

(The movie touches on transgenderism once, in passing, in the sense that "being gay does not mean you want a sex change." Which is a good point to make.)

Now, this movie is at its heart a comedy - and fear not, it is hilarious. It pokes fun at the movie industry, including Oscars and outrageously vain celebrities, at over-reserved nondenominational white Christians, at the tendency of dudes in charge to completely overreact at a sudden case of teh ghey, and at the whole concept of heteronormativity from both male and female standpoints (though mostly male). It's also a very sweet movie, with lovable characters and a heartwarming-yet-hilarious climax that should not be missed. All in all, it's worth at least one viewing - personally, I'm up to three.

One Man, One Woman

Over at TeenInk, some clueless Christian kid is opining the Deep Divine Reasons why two guys should not be able to join in holy matrimony. Naturally, she's using the second weakest reason why gay marriage is Just Nasty:

God put one man and One woman on this earth. Not two men. or two women.

I am going to do every Christian who ever stumbles across this blog a HUGE favor and say: Please, please stop using this argument. You are making yourself look stupid.

I'm going to dredge out my dirty atheist knowledge of the Bible to explain why now.

1. God put one man and one woman on the earth... and then their kids banged each other. According to some traditions, when Cain was exiled from God's presence, he took his sister with him for a wife; his brothers likewise married their sisters. Yet incest is forbidden in the Old Testament (except when God says otherwise - see Abraham and Sarah), the New Testament, and every halfway sane Christian tradition on the face of the planet.
2. God put one man and one woman on the earth... and their descendants went on to have many wives. Adam is possibly THE only monogamous character in the Bible. Abraham only had one official wife, but his wife wasn't above loaning him a prostitute when she failed to conceive. The rest of them were more official about their bangage. See also: Solomon.
3. God put one man and one woman on the earth... when there was nobody else around to reproduce. Let's face it: when you're starting a species, it's kind of counterproductive if your first couple can't breed with each other. Now we have six billion humans on the planet, millions of married couples devoted to creating more, and plenty of people who are happily single, sterile, or using contraceptives. What's a few gay couples?

So not only are there multiple precedents for later couples breaking "the rules," but the practical motive is no longer an issue. You simply can't argue that since it was ONE MAN and ONE WOMAN then, that's how it should always be.

By the way, I know this is going to blow your minds, but God put one Jewish man and one Jewish woman on the Earth. They had brown skin, black hair, yadda. Somehow nobody thinks that it's a good idea to argue that blondes shouldn't exist using this logic.

Now, I'm not harpin' on your right to argue against teh gayz (though since I'm a gay dude in a woman's body, that's okay, right?) That's your prerogative. But if you're going to do it, stick to the Leviticus/Paul combo. That one at least makes sense internally, though you'll want to keep it from us atheists who frankly couldn't give a rip what your god thinks. Especially since a lot of us quit BECAUSE he was a douche.

By the way, the worst argument of all time against same-sex relations?

The plumbing doesn't fit! It doesn't even make sense!

Let me blow your mind with a few alternatives to straight-on vaginal intercourse:

1. Oral sex
2. Anal sex
3. Manual sex
4. Mutual masturbation (though this one barely qualifies, in my book)
   
5. The almighty dildo

All of these can be performed very effectively by same-sex couples (though the dildo works best for lesbians). If you don't know what any of those are, feel free to search. As for me, I'm done.

Bisexual Erasure: Buffy Edition

Okay, guys, I know how great it is to have a good gay character in the media who doesn't die, doesn't lose xir true love, and isn't all about the gayness, but a quick heads up:

Willow is bisexual.

She never stated that she wasn't attracted to Oz - in fact, for some time she was torn between him and Tara (and it's not like you can pretend that lingering attraction/affection for her old boyfriend wasn't there, folks). She did what so many of us monogamists do, which is to choose one, but that doesn't make her 100% lesbian. Please make an effort to get your head around the fact that we CAN be into both sexes, yet only end up with one, who might even be the same sex as us. It happens.

I Am Invisible

I am invisible.

I usually don't realize that because I spend a lot of time hanging around transgender-safe message boards, but the fact is: I am invisible. When people talk about atheists, even though they don't specify, they are thinking of cisgendered atheists. When people talk about gays and lesbians, even though they don't specify, they are thinking of cisgendered atheists. Men means cisgendered men. LGBT means L, G, sometimes B, and those other weirdoes we heard were out there. Transgendered people are invisible.

Obviously there are some people out there who know we exist - shows such as Family Guy, The L Word, Coronation Street, and Degrassi have had transgendered characters. The film The World According To Garp has an excellent portrayal of a trans woman, and there are other movies that are just about us. But to the majority of people, we do not exist - or exist only in a theory so abstract that we may not exist at all.

I know. I used to be one of those people.

For the first eighteen years of life, I either didn't know about transgendered/transsexual people, or what I knew was very abstract: sometimes there were boys that felt like they should be girls, and underwent treatments to become girls, and often their parents kicked them out of their homes and they ended up homeless and/or addicted to drugs but sometimes they turned out okay. I'd heard somewhere about FTM's (courtesy of my mum, actually) but it never sunk in for me. Why? Because I didn't know anyone who is transgendered. I didn't know anyone who knew anyone who was transgendered. I'd never bumped into a transgendered person on the Internet, and when I did, I didn't spend a lot of time with him. My mother was on the site, watching my every move, and she didn't approve of his "lesbianism." Plus I think I was afraid that if I told the forumites that I felt similarly I'd be laughed at. You can't be a "gay man in a woman's body," after all. You can only be a straight woman. But I digress. Naturally, I never thought to include trans people in any of my writing or correspondence or anything.

This is the mindset that prevents trans people from getting their rights. Someone introduces a piece of legislation that covers trans people (or gays, or POC, or atheists, or whatever), and you think that since you don't know (or like) anyone who will be affected, it isn't important. So you let it slide.

People can't live like this. You can't go on holding in your minds that transsexual people don't exist, or there are too few of us to count. There are never too few of us to count. This is something that I didn't truly understand until I became a member of two of the least regarded minorities in the United States of America, and looking back I am ashamed to think that I once thought differently. Here is what I didn't realize: The majority, or the average if you will, does not equal the default. There is no default for the human condition. I am not a cisgendered white male unless I specify otherwise. It's not easy to remember this, with our parents, teachers, peers, and the media convincing us that diversity equals deviance. Society is not a dichotomy between white males and everyone else. It is a complex mosaic of people. Some of them are descended from Europeans, some from Africans, some from Asians, some from Eurasians, some from Americans, some from European-Asians, some from African-Caribbeans, some from people of many different continents. Some of us are Christian, some are Hindu, some are Jewish, some are Muslim, some are Jedi. Some used to be religious but aren't anymore. Some were never religious at all. Some are close to six feet tall and others are closer to three. Some are HIV-positive, some have cancer, some have diabetes or syphilis or angina or Chronic Fatigue Syndrome or missing organs and some have no outstanding health problems at all. Some are organ donors; some aren't. Some are female, some are male, some are intersexed. Some are cis, some are trans, some are genderqueer. Some are bisexual, some are straight, some are gay, some are pansexual, and some are one or the other but willing to experiment. Some of us have very little money, some of us have a lot; some of us just have what we need to get by comfortably. Some of us live in the cities. Many of us live outside of them. Some of us love only one person at the same time, but some love more. Some of us masturbate. Some of us don't. Some of us do and lie about it. Some of us promise our parents that we'll never have sexual intercourse until we find the one we'll be with for the rest of our lives. Some of us wouldn't have found the one we'll be with for the rest of our lives unless we had sexual intercourse first. Some of us love feet. Some of us hate feet. Some of us couldn't care less about feet. Everything about you is part of your identity, and it is no less diverse, beautiful, and strange than that of someone whose traits are less common than yours. And here's the thing: every trait about that person, to the extent that it does not harm another person, deserves to exist and be respected and protected by human law. If your identities are protected, and you can't find the time to make sure others have the same courtesy, then you don't deserve the protection you have.

Skip This One: It's A Boy Girl Thing

Being a trans guy, I'm into genderflip movies. It's just one of those things, like gay men being into gay male movies, kids being into movies about teenagers, and the entire film industry being obsessed with movies about white people. (One of these is not okay, but that's been covered by much more qualified writers than I.) Basically, I like these movies because some small part of them reflects the kind of things I go through, or would like to go through. I also watch them just for a laugh, because hey - nobody's serious all the time, not even the super serious trans man.

This one, though, can be skipped.

It's A Boy Girl Thing is a (SPOILERS!) romantic comedy about two white teenagers of opposite sexes. Nell, the girl, is fairly well-off. She's educated, well-mannered, nicely dressed, and hoping to get into Yale University. Woody, the boy (nice name, eh?), comes from a working-class family. His clothes are worn out, his manners are lacking, and his mom can't cook very well. He'll be lucky if he gets into any university.

Nell and Woody hate each other with a passion. So much that they get into a fight in a museum, which awakens the statue of an ancient god (for serious), who does some magical mist-fu that causes them to switch bodies. I will admit, this part of the movie is actually pretty entertaining. Aside from a couple of blunders, the two actors playing the roles do so very well, and the jokes are mostly funny. (Very raunchy, but funny.) The film does an average job of subverting gender roles, in that the characters do learn to appreciate each others' hobbies, but the male is still such a dunce that he can only learn to appreciate something that he already appreciates. Long story. The movie also comes down a little bit on classism, and has a bit in support of rap music, which is nice.

Those are the redeeming qualities. Now for the bad stuff.

First of all, the film just misses its mark. It's supposed to be about the differences between boys and girls (or so one would assume, based on the title), but it's as much, if not more, about the differences between class levels. It's entertaining, but it doesn't fit the title. Another gripe of mine - minor, I will admit - is that the setting of the film is a little too reminiscent of The Fantasticks. The two live right next to each other, she in a nice house with a neat lawn, he in a shabby house with a filthy yard, and while the families are presumably locked into feud, secretly their fathers would like nothing better than to see them together.

Those are just infractions - things that are a little annoying, but don't really ruin the movie for me. No, what really gets me is the bigotry. While the film fights gender roles and class divides with one hand, with the other it dispenses racism, homophobia, and slut shaming in the traditional "I'm not really bigoted" way that white cinema tends to do.

First of all, let's look at the racism. There are exactly two characters of color in this film (neither of which are the protagonists, naturally). One of them is a randy, apelike, teenaged black boy who is obsessed with sex to the point that he cheats on his white girlfriend regularly. The other one has very little character, but is a motorcycle-driving Latino who will have sex with any girl on campus at the drop of a hat, and comes dangerously close to destroying Nell's virginity (except he doesn't - more on that later). Of course the filmmakers didn't intend the film to be racist, but when the only lesson we learn is that teenaged boys of color are all sex machines who will cheat on/destroy the innocence of your white daughters, guess what I call it. Yup.

Also, it is implied throughout the film that the black character is extremely well-endowed, which never fails to catch the attention of the characters who get an eyeful of his junk. 'Cause all black guys have big penises, get it?

Now the homophobia. This is mostly character-driven, in a scene where Woody (in Nell's body) attempts to have sex with the aforementioned Latino, only to realize at the last minute that it's a terrible idea because he's not into guys. That's not bad. In fact, it was a great idea. But then he starts going on: "This is so gay! He's gonna make me his bitch!" He's more worried about having a "gay" experience - which he is certain will be demeaning and disgusting - than he is about having sex with someone that he's not into.

Just in case you thought this was just a character thing and had no bearing on the writers' views: first, no effort is made to contradict Woody's opinions, and secondly, it happens again, at the end of the movie. The aforementioned black character, having been dumped and thoroughly humiliated by his girlfriend, finds himself naked at a party, in front of a gay man who is obviously impressed with his super-sized black junk. Lesson #2: Don't cheat on your girlfriend, or else the gays will come after you. And while you might not think that's a bad thing, the filmmakers obviously believe that it would be gross and embarrassing.

After those two whoppers, this one is more of a footnote. See, there isn't actual slut shaming in this movie per se, but its effects are quite visible. Nell, trapped in Woody's body, is thoroughly convinced that her hymen is her virginity, and that if Woody in Nell's body has sex, that means that Nell is no longer a virgin. This would be horrible, because she was saving her first time for someone special. While there's nothing wrong with Nell's desire to wait for her first sexual experience, there is something hugely wrong with her assumption. Regardless of whose hymen is abused, if Woody had gone through with his plan, all it would mean is that Woody had sex that night. Nell wasn't there, she didn't have sex, she's still a virgin, end of discussion. And again, the movie does nothing to counteract this idea.

So, that's it in a nutshell. You might think that these things are minor - after all, nobody is going to watch one movie and think "Well, gee, I guess all boys of color are bad and gay sex is disgusting!" Can't I just forget the bad parts and enjoy the movie?

Well, no. Because the bad parts are in the movie. And people are going to watch this film and come away with a niggling subconscious idea that white boys, like the eventually honorable Woody, are better potential mates than boys of color, just because this movie showed it. A conscious knowledge to the contrary cannot completely overcome a subconscious suspicion. And this movie offers way too many of them for comfort.

FTM, daughter

Here are a few statements that fairly well sum up my experience with being transgendered. The only reason I post this is to provide an alternative to the stereotypical "I'm a man/woman who is trapped in a woman/man's body."

I'm a guy in a gender-neutral body. I had girl parts installed in my formative stages, which borked up my body with feminine traits, but that can be repaired.

Nature did not intend me to be a boy. Nature intended me to be a girl. It fucked up royally. I am done listening to nature.

I was a girl until I was about four years old, when I started turning into a boy. I'll never know why that happened, but that doesn't mean it didn't.

I have a female side, and I'm not afraid of it. But I end up having to hide it, because...

Some people believe that having a female side makes me female by default. This is not because they're right. This is because they do not understand what it feels like to be transgendered.

I'm a guy trapped in a woman's life.

If you told me when I was eight years old that I might be a boy, I would have laughed at you. I did not know such a thing was possible.

I'd rather be a man married to a woman than a woman married to a man. And I really like men.

Offensive As Hell: I Now Pronounce You Chuck & Larry

Come to think of it, I don't even know why I watched that movie. It had Adam Sandler in it. That should have been enough to put me off, except I was naive and idealistic enough to think that being a comedy about gay people might counteract the involvement of Adam Sandler. I was very, very wrong.

For those unaware, the plot runs like this: Chuck and Larry are two straight, white firefighters and best friends. Larry is a lovable fat guy whose wife died about a year ago, and Chuck is his slimmer, sexier, perpetually single best friend who gets laid at a rate of about 1.5 women per night. Larry realizes that, with his wife dead, he doesn't have a beneficiary for his life insurance, and that it's too late to change it to his kids. He's got to find a beneficiary or else his insurance will expire. In a fit of mad inspiration, he discovers that gays have just been given civil partnership laws in his state (New York, where all the cool movies happen), and so he hatches a mad plan: obtain civil partnership with Chuck, making him beneficiary of his insurance policy.

What a wacky plan, right? This poor, dear man is so desperate to take care of his kids that he'd do anything - even marry his male best friend - to make sure that they were taken care of in the untimely event of his death. Isn't that amazing?

No.

The movie is nothing short of a train wreck from beginning to end. While the creators took a stab at making Chuck and Larry likable, forgivable characters, the movie is so deeply entrenched in "irreverence" (read: toilet humor and complete insensitivity) that you end up too mad at its creators to even care about Larry's motives.

No, I take that back. The fact that the movie's writers obviously thought they were being sensitive about the issue made it even worse.

The movie starts out with a scene that's going to set the tone for everything to come: our two main characters, out on a call, struggling to rescue a hugely obese man from a burning building. The man insists that he is too fat to walk, so the characters end up carrying him out on his bed (or something else equally huge; I don't remember exactly). The entire scene is disparaging and generally insensitive of this kind of obesity, playing it (like everything else) for laughs. Given that the man's fatness has absolutely nothing to do with the remainder of the story, it feels pointless, jarring, and just dumb. The only thing I can figure is that it serves as a kind of litmus test for the rest of the film: if you liked that scene, you'll enjoy the rest of the movie; if not, please get in line for your refund. I probably should have stopped watching there, but like I said, naive and idealistic. Moving on.

During this brave rescue, there is an accident and Chuck is injured. Larry rescues him, ensuring that Chuck will forever feel indebted to him, and reminding him of his own fragile mortality. That's when he abruptly decides to check up on his own life insurance (or something like that), only to find out that while he could have named his kids as beneficiaries back when his wife died, the only way he could get a new beneficiary now is if he got married.

So he talks Chuck into signing up for civil partnership (remember, he owed him - otherwise there's no way in Hell he'd have OH MY GOD ACTUALLY MARRIED A MAN EEW EEW EEW), and they start down the path of their whole gay-marriage charade: Chuck moves into Larry's house, they put up a rainbow flag, they drive up to Canada and get married for realz (by a disturbing pseudo-Asian guy who seems to get voyeuristic thrills from the weddings he performs), they start attending gay parties, the whole nine yards. Along the way, they deal with Larry's gender-nonconformist son, squick out the rest of the firefighting team (with one exception, as follows), inspire a fellow fireman to come out of the closet, punch out an anti-gay protester, and generally come to the realization that being gay is OK after all. At the end, when the fraud is exposed, all the gay people that they've met over the course of the movie cheer for them. Never mind that they lied to everyone; never mind that they exploited the newly-granted rights of second-class citizens for their own gain, never mind that their attitude throughout the entire movie is "it's okay for you to be gay, but for me it's disgusting." Never mind that, as the movie explicitly states, by committing this fraud they're making things harder for all the genuine gay couples who want civil partnerships. They have learned a valuable lesson about gay people and acceptance, and so they are now heroes. Somehow.

The really sad part is that, even though this is supposed to be a movie about how gay people are people too and deserve to be treated as such, the movie is about straight people. Straight people who, from beginning to end, can imagine no worse fate than to be gay. Straight people who waltz into the gay scene, fool everyone despite their obvious disgust for anything resembling physical intimacy for one another (though a threesome with a blow-up doll is apparently okay... yeah) suffer a little bit of discrimination, strike an epic blow for gay people everywhere, and then emerge from the experience more-or-less unscathed. (They do get arrested, but because of the outcry from the gay community the charges end up dropped.) In fact, they come out better for the experience, as Chuck and Larry both find super-hot women that they can start dating now that they're not gay anymore.

Don't be fooled by its appearance. This isn't a movie about gay people, or even about gay acceptance. It's a movie that exploits the lives and problems of actual gay people (and several fake ones) for cheap laughs, without giving them the dignity of an actual voice in the film. (The closest that they get when a gay character speaks up to praise one of the protagonists for their courage/inspiring actions/whatnot.) This movie is, in essence, a straight guilt film - and a bad one at that. (See also "white guilt films," the genre from which this movie gets most of its cues.)

The really sad thing in all of this is that the premise of this movie could have done better. For instance, if the jokes had been less rude and in-your-face; if the main characters had had some actual hesitations about what they were about to do (besides "EEW EEW GAY NASTY"). If they'd actually learned something. If they, instead of the gay community, had been the butt of the movie's jokes. If everything hadn't turned out magically sunshine-and-rainbows (but EEW NOT RAINBOWS EEW GAY) in the end. If they'd accepted that the audience was going to hate the protagonists and ran with it, instead of trying repeatedly to garner our sympathy, it could have worked.

But they couldn't do that. After all, Adam Sander was in this movie, and nothing is more important than his ego.

(Incidentally, what is it with the portrayal of gay black men in comedy films? Did I miss the memo from the black gay community that they're all big, scary-looking men who secretly just want some romance? Naw, I'm nitpicking. This entire movie was so clueless that I shouldn't bother expecting any better.)

Trans Man: The Teenage Years

Midway through puberty, my voice started cracking.

I wasn't sure what happened at first. I'd be in the middle of a sentence and suddenly the sound wouldn't come out right. My voice would switch tones abruptly, or refuse to make a sound at all, usually in the space of a second or so. I'd try to clear my throat, but it never really worked.

And then my voice dropped. I mean, seriously dropped. I'd gotten used to speaking in a nice, feminine child's tone, and suddenly I didn't recognize the sound that was coming out of my mouth. It never dropped below an acceptable female level, and nobody else noticed, but you can bet I was self-conscious about it. See, my mum had told me about puberty; she'd told me that girls' voices changed but that they didn't crack like boys' did. There were so many ways to interpret that statement that I was sure that I had violated a rule of girls' puberty somewhere.

The main problem with this story is that there are three different ways that it can end, all of which are pertinent to my life story, so I feel that I should include them all.

1: Deeply embarrassed by my lower voice, and not wanting to be seen as any more unfeminine than I already was, I started forcing my voice into a higher register - especially when talking to my parents. It wasn't hard or miserable or anything, but it still hasn't become natural for me.

2: The sudden drop in my voice got me wondering if there was something off with my body. I already had a few of the other classic symptoms - male tendencies, mainly - but this was my first real clue. Though I later found out that it wasn't unheard of for girls' voices to crack (though it was unusual), the beard hairs that came in later confirmed a hormone imbalance.

2a: I had very mixed feelings about the whole thing. I was feeling a lot of pressure to be feminine, both overt (my mother telling me how to attract boys) and subtle (my mother constantly criticizing my aunt and her lesbian lover for being unfeminine). On the other hand, there was a feeling - more a primal urge than a voice - that latched on to every masculine aspect of my puberty as "correct." Ergo, not only did I have to wonder why my body was doing this, but I had to deal with the feelings that came with it - that strange feeling of bitter gratitude, of disbelief that this could actually be happening and a deep desire, against all reason, to embrace it.

2b: Equally as confusing was the pattern that I was starting to see in myself. I'd always known myself to be a nonconformist, sure, but suddenly I realized there was a pattern to my nonconformity. I liked boys - and not just in a romantic sense; I wanted to spend time with them, talk with them, do the things they did and just generally hang out like guys would. I liked boys' clothes, and had always favored them over girls'. (When I watched Smallville, I spent a large part of my time ogling Tom Welling's wardrobe.) I sat like a guy, which had always irritated my mother (who wanted me to be ladylike, and didn't understand the need to accommodate imaginary genitals or large thighs). There was no ignoring it - I consistently leaned toward the masculine.

As all of this stuff hit me at once, I had exactly one question: Why the hell wasn't I a lesbian?

Introduction

Hello, my name is William, and I am here to talk about labels. I know I bear a ton of them: human, white, blonde, European-descended, fair-skinned, able-bodied, female, daughter, sister, low-class, obese, transgendered, FTM, male, brother, pansexual, part-time crossdresser, in the closet, blogger (as of now), writer, English language persnicketor, caveman, environmentally conscious, animal welfare supporter, meat-eater, atheist, agnostic, panmaterialist, pacifist, activist, homeschooled, country boy, unemployed, self-taught, slacker, single, Zac Efron fangirl, single, cat person, dog owner, racist, anti-kyriarchal, food lover, adrenaline lover, American. (I'm sure I've missed a few.) All of these apply to me in some way, even though I don't necessarily agree with or want to use all of them. No doubt all of them have colored your perception of me, making you less or more likely to take me seriously, less or more likely to view me as shallow or immoral or worthless or potentially annoying. Some of them seem like outright contradictions - humans are good at that.

So here's a breakdown of my favorite and least favorite labels - the ones that I identify with and the ones I'd rather leave behind.

White, European-descended, fair-skinned

I don't like to call myself "white." First of all, it's simply medically untrue (I'm also a persnicketor). Secondly, the term "white" brings up so many associations of Anglo-Saxon superiority, Aryanism, and other stuff that I just do not subscribe to. If you have to lump me, I'd rather be called "White" than "Caucasian" (my ancestors just are not from Georgia and that term is SO flippin' racisto), but for common usage I prefer to be referred to as "fair-skinned," "European-descended," "North European-American," "light pink," or even "unfairly privileged peach-toned bastard."

Female, male, transgendered, FTM, gay, bisexual, transvestite

I am female-to-male transgendered, which means that I am biologically female and perceived as female in the outside world, but as far as I am concerned I am male. Here on the Internet, I prefer to use male pronouns and a male name. I enjoy wearing women's clothes very rarely, and only on my terms.

White, obese, slacker, American

This particular set of labels will get me pegged pretty quickly as yet another water-buffalo American, shuffling down the sidewalks in singleminded pursuit of my next Big Mac. Well, I'm here to tell you that I don't eat Big Macs (or fast food, if I can help it), I don't shuffle, and unlike some people I actually take responsibility for my own obesity and am trying to repair it.

Caveman, meat-eater

With all respect to the American Heart Association, American Diabetics' Association, etc.: sorry, but you're wrong. The anti-meat, pro-carb guidelines currently in place are based on faulty data, half-baked assumptions, insufficient studies and a whole lot of hyperbole. That's why I won't eat hot dogs or processed hamburgers and sausages if I can help it, but I will happily sink my teeth into a whole, chemically-minimal piece of beefy goodness. (I also work out. That's the other side of being a caveman. And to soothe any further concerns about my health, I also eat plenty of green vegetables and fruit, and my blood sugar has been almost completely under control ever since I started eating this way.)

Atheist, agnostic, panmaterialist

Again, all of these are true. I am an atheist in that I do not worship any gods. I am agnostic because I do not know for sure (and not because I'm "between religions" at the moment - I'm just not interested in that kind of a relationship right now). I call myself a panmaterialist because I appreciate the fact that everything that exists in the universe now came from the same place, has existed forever, and can never be destroyed, only configured into new shapes. Even human minds will live on in the minds of others, sometimes for generations after the original has passed. Everything that exists is part of a living, ongoing network that cannot truly be destroyed.

Zac Efron fangirl

It's true. I can't help it. Looking at Zac Efron makes me so happy that I just want to squee, because he is that pretty. You could say that Zac Efron is my one weakness.

Country boy

I'm not a cowboy, just so you know. I've lived in the country my whole life, yet I've still grown up into a middle-class type of young adult. I don't even like cows that much. But I like to live out here, I like to take long walks and photographs, and the fresh air is to die for.

I'll extrapolate more on these and other labels in other posts. These are just the ones that stand out to me as the kind that I identify with the most or the least, or that other people are most likely to consider when they decide what kind of person I am. That's what labels are for, after all.