Author: Songbird

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kLvUljcMScQ

I guess I went with sort of a stereotypical text because the song is entitled “I’m Coming Out” but both this song and Diana Ross are significant to me. Diana Ross was really the first diva I fell in love with. In seventh grade, we had to write research papers on our heroes and I wrote mine on Diana Ross. She has always been a gay icon, frequenting pride and AIDS events. In terms of what this song means to me, I played it at breakfast on the day I came out to my family, October 11, 20011 (Coming Out Day because I live for clichés). My family didn’t really catch on until I came out to them later that night. I think Diana’s confidence and kindness really helped me with coming to terms with my identity, knowing I had “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough” to listen to after a particularly rough day. The song also took place during a very pivotal point in Diana’s career, she was breaking free from both Berry Gordy, her manager, and the Supremes. And her first solo album, Diana Ross, features a very bare picture of just her. I think this can be related to queerness and the act of coming out because it is a new phase of life that is very dependent on what work you have done with yourself. Often, like Diana, we feel bare and exposed after coming out and feel the need to branch out and meet new people if the ones we used to know aren’t good enough for us. This specific performance was during her concert in Central Park in 1983. Admission was free making it accessible for all of her fans. However, in the middle of the concert, it began to downpour. And Diana continued to perform, singing a few more songs and promising to continue the concert tomorrow. This performance occurred the next day, proclaiming that a little rain can’t stop “The Boss.” Though we cannot control or predict the weather, I think that the performance relates to queerness because even though we cannot control the heterosexist and cissexist structures that try desperately try to make us not love ourselves and discourage us from achieving the same opportunities as our straight and cisgender peers, we need to put on a smile and “come out” and show the world that even if they send us a little rainstorm, nothing is going to keep us down. In case you couldn’t tell, this performance makes me very emotional and I cry every time I watch it.

Diana Ross and her Supremes

Diana Ross’ First Solo Album, Diana Ross

Diana Ross performing in the rain in Central Park

Diana Ross performing in the rain in Central Park

In terms of some background, the block quote I will be analyzing is taken from an interview I conducted for the LGBT Oral History Project, which is not yet published. My interviewee discusses sirb’s (sirb’s pgp) experience in forming the first all black drag king troupe in Central Pennsylvania and how they used to do routines based off of the stepping of historically black fraternities. As sirb says, “We made up our own dance routine, um, our own steps, we might do a few moves of the little stepping, say one of the frats that we saw, mixed with a move from another group back in the day that we seen, just put these all together and come up with our, with what we were gonna do…Yeah, it is, it is, it’s hard to do but, if you look at a lot of steps now, it’s all mixed up. If you just really look at like all the dance steps, you get like you might have Michael Jackson, you might have James Brown, you might have, like just put together. We just added a little bit of this stepping to it without taking the frat’s moves you know we might see something like oh, we like the idea of this hand move motion, we might that. And we might see something else like oh, we like the way they did a dip, so we might go dip. Dip and then do a hand, you know. That’s how we would do it.” It ‘s interesting to think of the implications of a group of presumably gay women, or as my interviewee refers to them, “masculine identified women,” interpreting the gendered behaviors of a group of men. Greek life is seen as one of the most elitist and exclusive institutions in higher education (expressing a generalization and common opinion, not what I think). These organizations often require very rigid expectations in terms of gendered behaviors, such as very strict dress codes, only allowing opposite sex partners for dates, and having parties focused around mingling with organizations of the opposite sex. Due to the historical context of when a lot of greek organizations came into existence (in the South, immediately after the civil war), the dues one must pay, and the climate of a lot of these greek organizations right now (SAE, border control parties, Antebellum South parties), these organizations also explicitly exclude people of color and poor people. As a reaction to the racist, classist, heterosexist, and cissexist implications set forth by these fraternities and sororities, people of color made their own specifically black or multicultural fraternities and sororities. Historically black and multi-cultural fraternities and sororities subvert the elitism of these greek organizations and carve their own stake in a traditional college experience. And while all of these organizations do great work in philanthropy and community organizing, they often continue to perpetuate these strict gendered and sexualized patterns that exclude LGBTQ+ people. Doing a drag interpretation of greek life spins all of these traditions on their head. As Judith Butler says in Gender Trouble, “that the structure of impersonation reveals one of the key fabricating mechanisms through which the social constructions of gender takes place. [She] would suggest as well that drag fully subverts the distinction between inner and outer psychic space and effectively mocks both the expressive model of gender and the notion of a true gender identity” (136-137). As black and multicultural fraternities and sororities complicate the racialized and socio-economic presumptions of greek life while drag performances of their routines subvert their gendered and sexualized standards. This black drag performance accomplishes both of those tasks simultaneously. Drag seeks to complicate cisgender identities, saying that maybe my sex and gender do not always correlate in the way you think they should. There is a huge difference between drag and trans identities and I absolutely want to make that clear, there is a lot of cissexism within the drag community. Drag is a performance, you’re one gender in drag and another out of drag, while trans is an identity, when trans person takes off their dress or binder at the end of the day, they’re still trans. Drag is temporary, trans is permanent. Moving on to specifically drag, it blurs the lines of the gender binary by making a farce of these gender roles we have in our society, often camping up and over-exaggerating these expectations, and challenging the idea that boys should always have a masculine identity and girls should always be feminine. And drag is very performative, expressing gender in a way we don’t expect, as RuPaul says, “you’re born naked and the rest is drag.” In this quote, RuPaul seeks to critique the ways in which gender is a constant performance, an identity and appearance that one must constantly uphold, through self-policing, in order to fit into a designated role. But drag transcends and complicates the gender that one expects someone else to be and gives someone the experience to explore their own interpretation of how a boy or girl should act through what they have learned from their own experience. These greek identities are exactly what drag seeks to critique, the extreme masculinity of fraternities that is expressed through Brooks Brothers blazers, L.L. Bean khakis, and Vineyard Vines bow-ties in the most ridiculous color schemes I have ever seen is paired with the super femininity of sororities which manifests itself in Lilly Pulitzer dresses and Jack Rogers sandals, is almost camp within itself, being the extreme exemplar of what society thinks gender and sexuality should be. A black drag rearticulation of black fraternity performance complicates everything we think we know about race, class, sexuality, and gender within the greek system.

A recurring storyline throughout Shani Mootoo’s book, Cereus Blooms at Night, is Mala’s plight to save the snails from being killed by the other, more powerful people around her. As Ambrose Mohanty explains it, “we fancied ourselves the protectors of snail and all things unable to protect themselves from the bullies of the world” (Mootoo 119). Mala gravitates to these snails, among other creatures because she too is ostracized by society. Mala understands that because they are too slow, or too slimy, or not cute enough, there is not space for them and they ultimately must be killed. However, she wants to prevent them and ergo takes it upon herself to save them. These shared feelings of isolation correlate to a shared feeling of queerness, of sexual deviancy, of not fitting into the hegemonic mold that society has laid out for you. Michael Warner conceptualizes these feelings as he frames queerness as anything that stands in opposition to the sexual norm. As he says, “so Clinton might at least theoretically see himself as having something in common with people in all the other categories on the ‘wrong’ side of the list” (27). He Warner describes Bill Clinton and his “sexual relations” with Miss Lewinsky as queer because they do not follow the sexual norm (outside of marriage, sodomy, etc.). Ergo, Clinton and his acts with Miss Lewinsky are in this queer category, along with sex workers, polyamorous people, people in the BDSM community, people who have sex before marriage, etc. Unlike Clinton, who often refused to bridge the gap between him and sexual deviants (see also DOMA, DADT, welfare reform, etc.), Mala intends to join this fragmented group. But this active ostracization of people ho do not conform to preconcieved notions of gender and sexuality, due to a compliant and symbiotic relationship between the government and law enforcement. As Sedgwick says,  “the complicity of parents, of teachers, of clergy, even of the mental health professions in invalidating and hounding kids who show gender dissonant tastes” (2). Seeing these snails as inherently queer, anyone out to kill them is someone who upholds systems that oppress LGBTQ+ identified people. Ambrose Mohanty also reflects on who they had to protect the snails from. He names Walter Bissey, the town bully from Mala and his past, now a judge. Bissey used to make fun of Mala for her perceived queerness, that was apparently contagious from her mother. It’s so interesting how people how received joy from killing animals and bullying people for being queer often then become judges, police officers, and legislators. These people with political biases usually work within the system, which is made to benefit them already, and craft it to make it very difficult for LGBTQ+ people. They pass legislation on internet security and refuse to acknowledge the trans unemployment rate. This cycling of oppressive attitudes in the political world fuels the vicious cycle of the depletion of LGBTQ+ political power. These prejudices and personal biases go beyond simply offending others; they fan the flames of the subjugation of the LGBTQ+ community.

The Sedaris reading really hit home and his personal testimony on his childhood was something I could really relate to. A recurring theme throughout the first chapter was the idea of the nelly boy, the DMAB person who has an all too familiar attraction to everything feminine and whose eyes glaze over once someone mentions sports. Sedaris describes the symptoms usually associated with people who, like me, have childhoods with too many show tunes and unfortunately not enough AXE deodorant, “there was some connection between a sibilate s and a complete lack of interest in the State versus Carolina issue” (9). He goes onto say that usually see us in your neighborhoods, questioning all you thought “men” should do and, “baking scones and cupcakes for the school janitors, watching Guiding Light with our mothers, collecting rose petals for use in a fragrant potpourri: anything worth doing turned out to be a girl thing” (9-10). There is something inherently wrong about being a boy with “girly” tastes. Crane and Crane-Seeber articulate why nelly boys seems to make cishet people’s skin crawl in their essay, “The Four Boxes of Gendered Sexuality: Good Girl/Bad Girl and Tough Guy/Sweet Guy.” The nelly boy falls in the category of a sweet guy which they describe as queer, artistic, affectionate towards male friends, not obsessed with sports, colorfully dressed, emotional, and a good listener. In a straight context, “their wives may keep their own names because for these men, being in an equal partnership is more important than the patriarchal symbol of ‘owning’ their wives and children, having their name be the ‘family name'” (Crane and Crane-Seeber 212). As John D’Emilio articulates in Sexual Politics, Sexual Communities: The Making of a Homosexual Minority in the United States, 1940-1970, gay men threaten the very fabric of American society because they do not adhere to the heteropatriarchal norms imposed upon them, they are not fulfilling their duty of controlling and oppressing women. (that’s not to say gay men cannot be oppressive). I think I should clarify that right now I am taking a bunch of communities and generalizing them as men with a more feminine gender expression, even though the readings may not see them as the same identity, they are policed and punished by society in very similar ways. Michael Warner comments on this, “nelly boys and butch girls can be f**bashed or taunted, and being heterosexual will not protect them very much” (37) (due to personal experience, I don’t like using the heterosexist f slur as I think using it inherently gives it power, no matter who says, a stance I am sure a lot of straight and LGBTQ+ identified people alike disagree with but (ain’t it funny what we see eye to eye on, ~oppressive language~) it’s just my personal preference). Sedgwick also references this connection between society and the regulation of gender expression, “the complicity of parents, of teachers, of clergy, even of the mental health professionals in invalidating and hounding kids who show gender-dissonant tastes, behavior, body language” (2). Sedaris’ speech teacher is an embodiment of said complicity, regulating the “gay lisp” experienced by David and his classmates. As he says, ” did they hope that by eliminating our lisps, they might set us on a different path, or were they trying to prepare us for future stage and choral careers?” (Sedaris 10-11). It’s no coincidence that all the boys in speech therapy probably later expressed a “deviant” gender or sexual identity. Their collective speech pattern brought conventional speech patterns (constructed by cishet rich white men) into question and ergo had to be eliminated. In summary, nelly boys are consistently persecuted and forcefully modified by social structures and community policing because they do not adhere to gendered norms and do not fill their designated role of dominance over women.

“Marriage is the flimsiest weapon against desire. You may as well take a pop-gun to a python” (Winterson 78)

Throughout the novel, the narrator has shown that their relationship with marriage is complex. They do not think positively about marriage, which is off-putting yet comforting. Our whole lives we have been culturally conditioned to think marriage is the ultimate goal in life and over the summer I finally realized that I don’t have to get married if I don’t want to and I instantly felt more liberated. And because media reflects culture, most literature, that I’ve read, portrays marriage in a positive and idealistic manner. The narrator’s critique of marriage goes against the grain and provides a more realistic view of marriage. Earlier, Winterson describes the superficiality of marriage, “I used to think of marriage as a plate-glass window just begging for a brick” (13). The passage surrounding the quote portrays marriage as just for show, an appearance to uphold. It frames marriage not as the reflection of ultimate happiness but as something someone does for damage control, in order to prove to everyone else that they are worthy of love and a family. I also think it implies that marriage needs to be destroyed by a brick, but what is the brick? In relation to the narrator’s past love life, I would say the brick is adultery or as the above quote says, “desire.” In the narrator’s eyes, marriages are supposed to be broken up. Marriages exist only on the basis that everything that isn’t a marriage exists: adultery, polyamory, same-sex relationships etc. The juxtaposition of “desire” and “python” is a reference to the original sin, the downfall of the first marriage in the bible. Since the “first marriage” went so poorly, what kind of model does that make for the rest of history? Marriage is meant to regulate everything that is not marriage and therefore stifle and control it. In early Puritanical tradition sex was actually seen as a good thing that should be very pleasurable thing, as long as it was within the confines of marriage. John D’Emilio and Estelle Freedman refer to these practices in their book, Intimate Matters: A History of Sexuality in America. Since the Puritans were also a pro-natalist culture (we must populate the earth to keep our religion going and survive this horrible New England climate) they endorsed having lots of sex, as long as it was in wedlock and resulted in a child. This American (I do not know the British context but I cannot imagine it being that much different due to the Protestant roots of both countries and the colonial legacy of Britain in America) contextualization of marriage sees it as a channel for desire but as the narrator sees it, desire cannot be regulated. Desire is all powerful and reckless and does not care about an arbitrary agreement like marriage. The narrator is a frequent adulterer because sexual attraction cannot be simply stifled or swept under the rug.

“She doesn’t know this yet. She doesn’t know that here is today a revision of the map. That the territory she thought was hers has been annexed. You never give away your heart; you lend it from time to time. If it were not so how could we take it back without asking?” (Winterson, 38)

This part in the novel comes when the narrator is thinking of possibly breaking up with Jacqueline. The narrator has a new relationship with Louise, a frenzy of a woman, and decides they want to leave the stability Jacquelin provides and into the chaos of Louise. The passage discusses a lot about cognition, “know” and “thought.” I think this is to portray the subjectivity of Jacqueline. The repetition of “she doesn’t know” serves to establish a relationship of miscommunication, of doing something without the other knowing. There is also a lot about borrowing, “lend’ and “take it back,” conveying a sense of transience in the agreement between Jacqueline and the narrator. The aspect of the passage that jumps out to me the most is the conceptualizing of bodies as territory, that can be conquered or liberated. The novel takes place in Britain, a country with a huge legacy of colonialism, that often “[made revisions] of the map” and “annexed” land. Often without the permission of the people there. In literature surrounding colonialism, the colonized country was often seen as female, virginal, fertile, and pure. I think metaphors like this serve to justify colonialism, like the country doesn’t know how to take of itself. I think the reclamation of the narrator’s body is interesting, because colonized countries so often do not succeed in overthrowing oppressive regimes, except for the Haitian Revolution, a really cool point in history that definitely does not get enough attention or love. I also wonder the implications surrounding Jacqueline, is she taking this body without the narrator’s permission? Does she have a white savior complex? Going back to the concept of colonialism, in certain African countries, not to generalize, the land is seen as communal, owned by the tribe. So when European countries came to Africa, they thought the land was theirs because of various treaties and a nice sense of entitlement. When the Africans tried to take the land back, they were overpowered and could not succeed. African people did not stay very long in a certain place, due to nomadic traditions. They viewed the land as temporary rather than fixed. Maybe the narrator views their body in the same way. The narrator has had many lovers throughout their life; they may not be able to stay with one person forever. They may have a polyamorous identity. The narrator is consistently “lend”ing their heart “from time to time.” They may view their body as a constantly changing thing, untethered, and definitely not fixed. I think this also may connect to the narrator’s conception of gender; maybe they identify as genderfluid. The conceptualizing of the body as a land mass also reminded me of Borderlands: La Frontera by Gloria Anzaldúa (the academic text that has most profoundly impacted me). In it, Anzaldúa questions her experience as a queer, Xican@ feminist. Growing up near the Texas-Mexico border, she conceptualizes the borders of her body and relates them to her identity. Where are the borders on the narrator’s body? “Annex” also reminds me of the Mexican Cession, an action which dramatically altered the lives of people like Anzaldúa’s relatives. There, they lived in a sort of middle ground where they had lived in “America” their whole lives but did not speak English (even though we don’t have an official language) and were not recognized as upstanding American citizens. Does Jacqueline exist in the middle ground, left heartbroken after this “annex”?  Anzaldúa also stresses how borders exist socially as well, a separators of the accepted and the deviant. As a serial adulterer, the narrator is the deviant, on the wrong side of the border. This also relates to Michael Warner’s conceptions of sexual shame, “hierarchies of sex sometimes serve no real purpose except to prevent sexual variance” (25). The only reason the narrator experiences shame for being in relationships with married women is because that is not considered the norm. Ergo, their actions must be controlled and regulated, much like Anzaldúa’s queer and Xican@ identities. Various characters in the novel control the narrator’s border and they was to reclaim the land that is rightfully theirs. Relating a body to a land mass definitely has a lot of cultural implications and engages a lot of different texts.