Group-think

Living in a media-saturated world is just so exhausting. Honestly. Sometimes, when I read TheStar or The Globe and Mail, I am amazed at the amount of stupidity that exists. I remember coming across an article on the G&M about a new research study that came out that "discovered" that television was making kids more distracted. Why stupid studies such as these ones exist is beyond me. Then there are the exercise more/lose weight articles. Reading Men's Health depresses me because of all the "Get abs!" articles they recycle. Reading many women's magazines depresses me because of all the shallow advice they give... as well as all the make-up advertisements. The world is superficial enough.

And the relationship columns. Today someone asked a column writer on the the G&M whether or not they should consider having a threesome. They both wanted to try it, but they were probably just insecure. The column writer was like "Well, I can't control what you do it in the end, but just be careful, it might ruin your relationship". Or that was the gist of it, anyway.

You know what that means! Time for Timmy to go off on a tangent about sex for the millionth time on this blog! I don't really think a threesome that all parties want ruins a relationship. I think what it can do, if it goes wrong, is bring issues such as lack of trust, respect, and communication into attention. Because if respect and openness were deeply entrenched relationship in the first place, there's no reason why having a threesome would change that. It is not as if your life undergoes such a drastic change that it can be divided up into "before threesome" and "after threesome" portions. If only one person in the relationship wanted to try a threesome and were trying to persuade/manipulate the other person into going for it, that would be a different story. There is so much irrational sex-negativity in the media.

I did, though, see a comment that said, "Life is too short to let fear and insecurity get in the way of exploring your desires. Have fun tell us how it goes." So I guess there is some hope. But mostly, there's a lot of group-thinking going on in the comments and it makes me kind of sad because I feel like the media kind of enforces this conformist world. The media shapes the subjects we think and talk about, and frames the ways we think about them.

In contrast, the arts, in which free expression is encouraged, is not really noticed by a lot of people. There seems to a decline in the appreciation of literature (especially poetry) and music in favour of (often shallow) radio-ready pop music, which is worrying. I try to be open to different modes of expression, and different genres of literature and music; I wish that others would do the same.

Which is not to say that "art" does not have its problems. "Classical music" and "literature" and "art" can seem like ivory tower categories--only accessible and enjoyable to the people who are privileged (i.e. rich and snobby) enough to have learned about their nuances. I get that. But at the same time, it is important to have an open mind to them. and not judge it by its genre.

Anyway I enjoy many other "common" (or considered less "artful" the academic world) genres ranging from country music to electronic/dance to pop to Pokemon music and I can see their merits all the same. Not to sing my own praises, but the important thing is not to limit oneself by saying "I don't listen to anything other than pop", and to judge a piece of music not by its genre but by its technique (whether musical or rhetorical), innovation, intent, and emotional intensity.

Come on world, stop this closed-mindedness, stop this group-thinking! (Though you can keep having group sex if you want *ahem*)

Not Inferior, Not Indifferent

There's been a string of gay teenagers committing suicide lately. Which makes me really troubled.

The truth is that gay teenagers feel an isolation that perhaps not a lot of people can imagine. They can't come out to their parents in fear of being thrown out of the house; they can't talk to their friends because they're afraid that they would be humiliated and their sexuality revealed to everybody else.

Those crippling feelings of isolation that I used to feel back in high school... I've kind of blotted it out of my mind. And I'm afraid I will forget how hard it was. I've been enjoying the joy of living an open and "out" life. I've been more confident than ever and mostly happier. But I'm in a privileged position as well. I have understanding parents - perhaps more understanding than many can hope for. I'm lucky enough to have an amazing friend who accompanied me to two Pride Parades, despite not being LGBT, and who constantly gives me me courage to speak up. I'm lucky enough to have a friend fun and accepting enough to accompany me to a gay club.

Living this life, and constantly feeling myself growing farther and farther away from that hole (no, not that kind of hole) I was stuck in during high school, it's very easy for me to become blasé about the lives of other people. But I can't forget... I can't forget that there are people out there who are still in need.

I know a lot of people who volunteer for LGBT initiatives. I can only hope to be as brave as them one day. Right now... I know myself to be arrogant and selfish. I'm afraid of being reminded of the feelings I had in high school and I do everything I can to avoid them. And no matter what, I'm still pretty introverted. Though I have forced myself to talk to more people last year, I can't really seem to break out of my shell. When I'm surrounded by a lot of people I tend to just withdraw. But then again: these aren't excuses for inactivity or indifference. We can't give up. Not now when we've come so far.

In my History of Sexuality class, I read a paper arguing that sexual behaviour is akin to class and race and other social ways of organizing power in our society. In times of social crisis, people at the bottom of the sexual ladder are often scapegoated; this may include: gays or lesbians with more than one sexual partner, transsexuals, transvestites, fetishists, sadomasochists, people in the sex work industry, "those whose eroticism transgresses generational boundaries" (my textbook's words), etc. They receive less institutional support and economic sanctions, and less protection by the law. Moreover they may be thought of by the medical/psychiatric community as being "insane" or "criminal" or somehow emotionally or morally inferior.

I don't know how our world got so warped this way and how people can allow their penchant for hate and control to classify people in this way. There is simply one principle that you need to understand: what works for you does NOT necessarily work for others. Just because you feel like you have to be monogamous, does not mean that this is the best option for everybody. Just because you don't like being tied up/don't like being peed on/having your feet licked/having sex in leather etc., doesn't mean nobody does. Why must some people mistake their sexual preferences for universal laws that apply to all of mankind, throughout all cultures, throughout all the ages?

I've been thinking. In my last post, I said that I felt like I couldn't pursue public initiatives. But I can write well. I can fight for change, in my own way.

I will use my writing and push for social change.

I will help increase LGBTQ visibility as best as I can, and reach out to youths and adults through my writing.

I will fight against sexual discrimination of all forms.

And that's why... that's why I have to leave the sciences.

Strip away the Tuxedo

I am enjoying History of Sexuality course and it is pretty laidback so far. The readings, while short, are pretty thought-provoking. Last week, we read a paper by Halperin that said that by treating "sexuality" as a part of our identities that have always existed, we are being historically inaccurate. As justification, he cited the sexual hierarchy of the Greeks. In ancient Athens, there were two classes of people: citizens (men) and non-citizens (women, children/youths, slaves). Sexual practices in Athens occured between a citizen and non-citizen, whether the non-citizen was a woman or a boy, and the citizen was always the penetrative one. There was no usage of the terms gay/straight/homosexual/heterosexual, nor did the Greeks find anything inherently different if a citizen preferred to have sex with boys instead of women - it was an accepted practice. Their sexual practices were simply a manifestation of the way Athenian politics were set up and were in no part constitutive of their identity. In our current society, it's the opposite: our sexual practices are seen to affect our politics and our identity.

Reading Halperin's paper did make me think. Why do we view sexuality as a core part of our identities? When I meet someone, I almost immediately tell them "I'm gay". Why is it so important that it is one of the first things I tell them?

For instance, I frequently feel very out of touch with the with the gay community. Maybe it's my introverted and ruminative nature, but I feel distant from others I've met who are very active in uniting the queer community and countering homophobia and prejudice. (That is not to say that I feel like their work is unimportant—of course not!)

Moreover, I don't think "I am gay" even fully describes my sexual desires and practices, nor does it fully define my idea of love or romance. In fact when I first discovered that I was gay, I didn't even use that word. I told my friend "I think I don't like girls". But maybe over time, I have chosen to take on the gay identity when it is necessary. After all, it would be very frustrating to have had to tell my parents "I partially identify as gay, though I think of myself as gay basically I want to make a political statement". Besides, saying "I'm gay" is basically the most energy-efficient way of telling people and that 1) I'm looking for a male partner and that 2) I like to subvert the norm.

But is being gay really an important part of my identity? In the past I've sometimes thought that coming out to myself was the defining moment in my life—that it made me see things that I was unable to see before, that I was finally "becoming my true self" somehow. But maybe it's not the gay identity that helped me to do this; maybe at that moment I simply realized the cultural constraints that were embedded inside me, and subsequently I resolved to subvert these society norms and that helped form my identity. After all, as an aspiring writer, I really want to create something new and challenge people's perceptions of different forms and ideas. So I think having my own way of thinking and doing things is more important to me than being gay and that in a way, I identify as gay because it helps identity of being contrary to the norm.

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Recently there have been a few things going on that just makes me feel not exactly depressed, but... a bit blue. It's the same feeling as the one I was feeling before; so many things are going on that I cannot change and have no control of. For instance, at the end of my sexuality classes, I start thinking about how there are so many other ways of viewing ourselves, but many of us are stuck in thinking with just one way. I really do wish that more people could view gender and sexuality as being more fluid, and perhaps as something that might not even be a fundamental part of us.

I sometimes think about all the guys on craigslist claiming that they're straight, yet seek a guy to fool around with... (there are MANY. If you don't believe me, go to the "men for men" section on Craigslist.) Somehow it hurts, to see them vehemently declaring that they are straight, to imagine them locking up their truest feelings in favour of living a "normal life". If only we could just totally strip away this notion of being "straight" or "gay".

I've been listening to LeAnn Rimes' CD, Family, lately. In one of the songs, she sings
"I will learn to let go of what I cannot change.
I will learn to forgive what I cannot change.
I will learn to love what I cannot change,
but I will change, I will change
whatever I, whatever I can."

And so I will learn to let go of what I can't change. I tell myself that when they—those guys—grow older, they will discover that they don't need to label themselves and don't need to conform to what they perceive the norm to be.

After all, when they stand at the altar in a tuxedo with hundreds of people looking up to them, maybe they'll feel that there's some discrepancy between what they're expected to live up to and what they can do. Maybe they will discover that they cannot keep hurting themselves and the people around them, and that something is missing from their lives. I can only hope.