sympathy for the things we deny

Gavin Newsom was on the radio yesterday, and said something incredibly compassionate that’s stayed with me.

So there’s this CA state senator who’s voted unfailingly against gay rights. And this is sad, but even more so when he gets a DUI whilst returning from a gay nightclub. With a man. Who presumably was OF THE GAY, and intending to be teh gay with him.

Not knowing the man I thought, maybe, his politics were a deliberate front to prove himself. LOL hypocrite, deserves this very public outing, etc.

& then Newsom comes on the radio, and says that he feels badly for the man as he’d clearly spent a long time denying who he was. They were unexpected kind words.

So I’m trying to imagine how one might continually deny their sexuality. And though I don’t forgive the man’s voting record, it’s surprisingly easy to see how someone could live in denial. Especially someone a generation above me.. Maybe you grow up where gay = shame, and never get the impetus to struggle through your feelings. Maybe you’re carried through heterosexual courtship, and marriage, by social norms and it’s easy to go along. Maybe the acceptance of your community is more valuable than satisfying those twitches of lust and dream.

It’s a lil scary to see parallels in myself. Sometimes I go along when I should fight. More often tho, I fall for someone and end up monogamous, making tiny sacrifices of attitude, ’cause it’s easy and I love them. I guess I’m selfish, or m’ heart is meant for polyamoury?

But like making a life, out and gay, a generation ago may have been really hard- for social factors, but also ’cause of the rarity of possible partners- I think doing so determinedly poly would be really hard for me.

And damn it, I love my very very monogamous boyfriend.

of wenches with wrenches

I grew up playing with the boys, then th’ tomboys. Boys taught me to curse at morning recess. Today my co-workers are the boys, and they’re teaching me carefully to use a dremel, or the best way of holding a screwdriver.

I don’t want to imply artificial categories: it’s not just guys who wield the tools. A tiny middle-aged lady at my work can solder circles around you.

But mostly we’re guys, so I feel like a badass with a crescent wrench: I’m proud of crossing into men’s territory. Kaylee and Rosie the Riveter are my heros here: they aren’t switching genders, but adopting traits of each.

In their footsteps I can reconcile two worlds, and do it beautifully. Check me out in th lab, sleeves rolled up & nails painted black, hips and competence. I feel pretty with tools in my hands, and sexy whether it’s strength or delicacy they require. Learning to use my body for work is satisfying.

boylike people make me toylike

I like to play each side of the binary: girl, boy. Fluid creature in-between.

I switch ( & if you don’t know what that means, please prepare for kink ahead. Got yr big-girl boots on? Good.)

I like to see all things at all angles.

I like to dance.