Middle-aged political nostalgia
My current "commute and break" audiobook is Speaking Sex to Power: The Politics of Queer Sex, by Patrick Califia. It's a collection of his late-nineties/early-2000s essays, just as he was really starting to transition, with some wonderful additionally contextualizing notes and introductions. His writings about both kink and parenthood are connecting more for me these days.
It's making me feel a bit old, I have to admit, seeing the work of the 90s become the historical foundation for the current generation, seeing the "big new ideas" that shaped me in the context of developments since that time. Susie Bright, Pat Califia, Carol Queen, Tristan Taormino (hey, wait, wasn't she the new kid on the block just yesterday?), Betty Dodson... I was reading another FLer's post about Betty Dodson and Sex for One just the other day. It warms my heart that people are still discovering her.
These are some of the people whose ideas and perspectives helped shape me, my role models and idols. They're all human, and flawed, and sometimes just as confused as I am, but that's part of what I love, why they give me confidence. They gave me visions of the life I wanted, blazed paths for me to follow. When I live loudly so other people can see what that looks like, it's my attempt to pass on the gift they gave me by opening themselves in essays and smut, speech and vid, so I could feel less alone. It's gratitude for all the transgressive cultural outlaws who have helped shift the boundaries, expand the space for all of us, those who've taken the punishment in order to find their freedom, and mine. It's recognition that the risks I take pale in comparison to those of many others, both historical and modern. (and now I'm trying really hard to keep this from going off on a general activism and social justice tangent; I'll never end up hitting "post" if I try to tackle all of that)
Sometimes the generational shift is the kind of shock to my system that epigenetics was to my science geek side (holy shit, did that blow my mind). Mostly the evolutions are pretty clear in retrospect, though. Listening to Patrick talk this morning about class and queerness, and about the complexities of community for a behaviorally bisexual leather dyke gone trans man, I just kept thinking how grateful I am that intersectionality has come to fore. At times I feel out of the loop in modern conversations, wonder where I fit anymore, think that maybe I'm stuck in my 90s feminist theory and haven't kept up with the debates well enough, but I'm also so, so proud of the new generation, joyful at the explosion of excellent sex educators and speakers and writers, the ease with which I can find awesome queer/trans-inclusive feminist porn, the plethora of amazing resources. 20 years ago I had to hunt down these writers' books, dog-ear my copies of On Our Backs and Anything That Moves, hear rumors of fascinating happenings far across the country, treasure the few friends who didn't stare blankly at most of what I wanted to talk about. For all the struggles and dust-ups of online community, I wouldn't go back for a minute.
And I'm taking "break time" to mean "time to post" time, or I never will. Always more to say.
______________________________________________________
Related second post:
Who was transformative for you, sexually?
Related to my most recent post, who was transformative in your life, sexually?
I've been talking about writers, primarily, but I mean this broadly; there are lovers and relationships I identify as watersheds in the development of my sexuality, moments of connection with community, essays that reflected parts of my soul back at me and made me think and discover new things about myself; all of that counts. I may add some of these in the comments as they come to mind, but there's one I always think of:
I still remember exactly where I was sitting (outside the Drexel in Columbus, at a little cafe table on a bright summer day) when I started Carol Queen's Real Live Nude Girls, when I read the line in her "Letter to My Mother" essay:
"I could never explain to her how important sex was to me, what a journey I was making of it."
It didn't just resonate, it rang through me like a bell. It still does.
It's making me feel a bit old, I have to admit, seeing the work of the 90s become the historical foundation for the current generation, seeing the "big new ideas" that shaped me in the context of developments since that time. Susie Bright, Pat Califia, Carol Queen, Tristan Taormino (hey, wait, wasn't she the new kid on the block just yesterday?), Betty Dodson... I was reading another FLer's post about Betty Dodson and Sex for One just the other day. It warms my heart that people are still discovering her.
These are some of the people whose ideas and perspectives helped shape me, my role models and idols. They're all human, and flawed, and sometimes just as confused as I am, but that's part of what I love, why they give me confidence. They gave me visions of the life I wanted, blazed paths for me to follow. When I live loudly so other people can see what that looks like, it's my attempt to pass on the gift they gave me by opening themselves in essays and smut, speech and vid, so I could feel less alone. It's gratitude for all the transgressive cultural outlaws who have helped shift the boundaries, expand the space for all of us, those who've taken the punishment in order to find their freedom, and mine. It's recognition that the risks I take pale in comparison to those of many others, both historical and modern. (and now I'm trying really hard to keep this from going off on a general activism and social justice tangent; I'll never end up hitting "post" if I try to tackle all of that)
Sometimes the generational shift is the kind of shock to my system that epigenetics was to my science geek side (holy shit, did that blow my mind). Mostly the evolutions are pretty clear in retrospect, though. Listening to Patrick talk this morning about class and queerness, and about the complexities of community for a behaviorally bisexual leather dyke gone trans man, I just kept thinking how grateful I am that intersectionality has come to fore. At times I feel out of the loop in modern conversations, wonder where I fit anymore, think that maybe I'm stuck in my 90s feminist theory and haven't kept up with the debates well enough, but I'm also so, so proud of the new generation, joyful at the explosion of excellent sex educators and speakers and writers, the ease with which I can find awesome queer/trans-inclusive feminist porn, the plethora of amazing resources. 20 years ago I had to hunt down these writers' books, dog-ear my copies of On Our Backs and Anything That Moves, hear rumors of fascinating happenings far across the country, treasure the few friends who didn't stare blankly at most of what I wanted to talk about. For all the struggles and dust-ups of online community, I wouldn't go back for a minute.
And I'm taking "break time" to mean "time to post" time, or I never will. Always more to say.
______________________________________________________
Related second post:
Who was transformative for you, sexually?
Related to my most recent post, who was transformative in your life, sexually?
I've been talking about writers, primarily, but I mean this broadly; there are lovers and relationships I identify as watersheds in the development of my sexuality, moments of connection with community, essays that reflected parts of my soul back at me and made me think and discover new things about myself; all of that counts. I may add some of these in the comments as they come to mind, but there's one I always think of:
I still remember exactly where I was sitting (outside the Drexel in Columbus, at a little cafe table on a bright summer day) when I started Carol Queen's Real Live Nude Girls, when I read the line in her "Letter to My Mother" essay:
"I could never explain to her how important sex was to me, what a journey I was making of it."
It didn't just resonate, it rang through me like a bell. It still does.