My discomfort and concern when watching the Rose Parade marriage ceremony stems from my understanding of the Stonewall rebellion as an impetus for revolutionary change within an overridingly oppressive social structure, as opposed to mere reform, accommodation, or assimilation.
Queerness is a gift that not all LGBT people have. It's certainly not inherent in that amorphous thing sometimes called the LGBT movement. We are a political, social and sexual minority, and maybe even a cultural one, but we're held together more loosely than most other minorities.
In June I sent out a story to be considered for Best Lesbian Erotica 2014, but I could not have imagined the tangled internal politics that would ensue. That fight is emblematic of a broader schism in the queer community, one that calls up all the old questions of assimilation vs. liberation.
What's got me so despondent (and dramatic)? A couple of recent blog posts that appeared on HuffPost Gay Voices, lamenting, worrying about or lashing out at queers (like me) who don't want to live a heteronormative life.
Conventional, traditional, normal: These words stand diametrically opposed to my understanding of queer identity. But after last season's menswear shows I noticed a spate of criticisms lodged against the work that young designers were showing on the runway, specifically for flouting conventions.
I've reached a conclusion: I'm not gay. Oh, don't misunderstand me. I am definitely homosexual, 100-percent. Honey, I loves me some big, juicy mens. I just don't have the trappings to be a 21st-century gay. I am what I think of as "post-gay."
My discomfort in watching the joyous reactions to recent gains for marriage equality stems from my understanding of the Stonewall rebellion as an impetus for revolutionary change within an oppressive social structure, as opposed to mere reform, accommodation, or assimilation.
At this rate, if I want to remain comfortably single without the pressures of a looming marriage proposal, I'll have to move to one of those states. Next time I'm on Craigslist, I'm going have to forego the "Men Seeking Men" section so that I can peruse apartments in Biloxi.
Peter is a gay man I slept with once. When he did come home with me and we were naked in my bed, he kissed my neck, and I moaned, high-pitched and breathy. He stopped, looked me in the eye and said, "Don't do that. It's faggy."