Anya's Blog

ImageOUT is over for another year. Lots of great movies. And lots to think about. Photos of Angie and Hannah and the Hasbian with a Trans 101 workshop at Flying Squirrel sandwiched in between. Lots to think about.

Hannah was an excellent movie for what it was, though I only rated it good on the ImageOUT ballot. And the reason for that (along with everything we talked about at the Trans 101 workshop) led to a bunch of questions about what we as a GLBTQIA+ community tell people about ourselves and what we believe and why.

First, I guess I should say something about who/what I am, at least right now. I'm a very fluid-gendered trans person who, while of entirely European descent, has embraced the identity of Two-Spirit which was bestowed upon me by a Seneca woman a few years ago at the Rochester Pagan Pride Festival. I'm in a relationship with a wonderful woman. Does that make me a lesbian? hetero? bi? Remember my gender is very fluid, so some days I'm a woman, some days a guy, some days in between. Oh, and before about age 35, I was a man, and before that a boy.

And this is what I've been thinking about. Most of the time we (or at least the more mainstream/less radical parts of the GLBT movement) tell the rest of the world that our identities are not a choice. "I was born gay." "I was a girl since birth, but my body doesn't match." We always stress that these identities were never a choice and are static and unchanging.

What I was hoping for in Hannah was a break from this static thinking. That someone could change their identity and it would be okay. Gay to straight, straight to gay, man to woman, woman to man. I wanted to see that.

We seem to have so much invested in the notion that our identities are not a choice and are unchanging/unchangeable. Why? It seems like it is mainly a response to the right wing homophobes saying homosexuality/transsexuality is immoral, wrong, or just plain bad. But that could only be the case if we could choose it. So our response as a community has been to say it is not a choice and more importantly that we can't change. So we can't be blamed for what we can't change.

But why don't we question the assumption that there would be something bad about choosing to be gay or choosing to change one's sex/gender? What's so bad about choosing to be different from everyone else?

Over the years I have been gay, then asexual, and now bi/lesbian. (I consider myself bi because I'm attracted to the person more than the genitals.) I'm no more gay now than I was lesbian 10 years ago.

We've spent so much effort trying to justify our identities to homo/transphobes that we've lost much of the great opportunities that came from the early gay liberation movement. Instead of telling people there's nothing wrong with being sexually attracted to members of the same sex, we've bought in to the traditional beliefs that choosing to be gay would be bad, so we've denied that possibility that anyone would choose to be gay. Well, I do choose to be whatever gender I am and choose to love who I love, and I choose to reject society's judgements about whether that's good or bad. (I should add that I know it's not a choice for many of us and it is fairly static for many. But it's not always, and choosing an identity should never be bad.)

We could also have created much broader ideas of what a family can be, but instead have decided to strive to make our families just like straight families. I don't know who said "Women who seek to be equal to men lack ambition," but the same could be said of queer folk who seek to be equal to straight people.

I guess this all comes down to one big question: Why do we define our identities and their limits by what will be palatable to (mostly right-wing) non-queer people? Why even try to justify who we are? Why defend our identities? Why not join with Gloria Gaynor and say "I am what I am" and leave it at that? Period. Full stop. End of story. Why not?

I think, therefore I am. -René Descartes

I am, therefore I think. -Me

Interpretation: As long as I exist, I can't stop thinking. So telling me to just not think about it just won't work. The only way I could stop myself thinking is by committing suicide. Therefore, any attempt at ceasing thinking is also tantamount to suicide. Thinking, the blessing and curse of the intellectual type.

This poem is dedicated to everyone out there who, like myself, have a terrible memory for names and who feel the pain every time we have to ask the question again.

The Question
By Anya Turnquist
(c) 9 December 2008

There's a question I need to ask you
But I'm afraid to ask you
Because I'm afraid you won't understand
Why I need to ask it.

We've known each other long enough
I should know the answer
And I'm afraid you'll think me stupid
When you learn I've forgotten the answer.

And I have reason to be afraid
I've asked the question before
And I've been laughed at and shamed
And I've been made to feel a fool.

I don't want to ask the question
I'm afraid of the hurt.
I don't want to ask the question
But I can't continue if I don't.

So I'll ask it now
And prepare to get hurt
I'll ask you again

What is your name?