A while ago, Miz Moffat wrote a blog post in which she recounted the celebrity crushes of her youth and how they signified a future queer existence.
I didn’t comment, but I haven’t been able to stop thinking about this.
I didn’t comment not because I didn’t recognize my young queer self, but because the women to whom I was (and am) attracted are never celebrities: They are simply not visible in pop culture. The butch/genderqueer individuals who make my heart beat faster could not be found on the television screen or in films or even on stage. As I got older and into punk rock, there was some visibility, but before that? Nothing.
In fact, I think this is one of the reasons why I dated men for so long, despite knowing that I was queer: It was difficult to follow through on my hypothetical queerness when I was not attracted to Angelina Jolie or Lucy Lawless or Ani DiFranco or whomever else I heard the gay girls were into. I like ‘em butchy, and that’s a tall order for a young person.
Luckily, I was growing up mostly in Toronto, which is how I knew that I wasn’t straight: Even though the women I liked were rarely on teevee, I frequently saw them walking down the street, working in all sorts of professions, and generally being present. They were always older than me, and looked better in men’s clothing than any boy my age, and I’d see them and think, WOW.
Them I’d go back to fucking my boyfriend or whatever, trying not to dwell on the thoughts and feelings that had been brought up by the encounter.
I’m not saying it was harder than what was experienced by my peers who prefer femmes, just… Different.
I didn’t really recognize myself in a queer community until I was 17 years old and read Boots of Leather, Slippers of Gold, which is a history of the lesbian culture in Buffalo, NY, in the 1930s-60s. It was a big moment for me, because though the butch/femme roles were presented as a coping mechanism in a homophobic society, I still saw myself validated. Not necessarily as a femme, which is a moniker that I’ve only come to adopt in the past year or so, but definitely as an appreciator of masculine women.
Soon after, I read Rubyfruit Jungle for the first time, and that didn’t help my confusion: The protagonist frequently expresses much distain for her female lovers who maintain their relationships with boyfriends for the sake of appearances, and I wondered, Am I doing that?
I spent a lot if time feeling bad, especially when I was single and secretly in love with a (non-butchy but out queer) friend. I don’t regret the way things went, but of course it’s always easier to see these things in retrospect: It made sense for me to be too scared to come out.
So my celebrity crushes? Well, the closest thing I can think of is when I was slightly obsessed with Amelia Earhart, at the age of 13. Mae Callen summarized the appeal quite well in her tributes, here and here. At the time, I was reading biographies constantly, looking for heroes, which meant that my love for AE had the main hallmarks of my future celeb crushes: I didn’t want to get with her so much as I wanted to BE her. Other people in this category include Diana Rigg in the 1965-68 seasons of the Avengers, and Pam Grier.
Other than that, I can’t say that pop culture has much room for the folks whom I consider to be crush-worthy. That’s a shame, because I know I’m not the only one who finds them to be sexy as all get out. But really, their invisibility is only a facet of the homophobia and strict gender rules that curtail so much of our lives: It’s another side of the same story in which I’m told I don’t look gay. The nature of celebrity reinforces ideas of who we should be, what we should look like, who we should love, and what our standards should be for beauty, of which gender is an extension. In a way, this is part of my attraction to butches/gendequeers: By simply existing and looking jaw-droppingly dapper in her grey wool suit, my lover is a walking/talking/thinking/feeling act of resistance, and I am dead proud to hold her hand as we walk down the street. She’s more crushable to me than any celebrity ever could be.
With huge thanks to Miz Moffat for getting me thinking!
I sat down with the calender last night, and spent some time figuring out my upcoming time lines. I began school at the start of August, which means that my 25 weeks to complete the pre-apprenticeship program are up on January 22. That’s 12 weeks from now. However, I’d really like to be done by Solstice, if only because Oats and I have committed to spending the holidays painting our apartment, and really, do I want to have my school work competing with a project such as that?
That puts my goal of finishing at Friday, December 18th: Seven weeks. I’m on module 24 of 36 modules in total, though I still need to do the exams for 21 and 23. So, about 14 modules left, which makes it two per week.
Is that feasible? I think it might be, if I actually spend evenings and weekends studying. I’m struggling with making that sort of commitment, not because I don’t want to do well at school, but because I feel like I need to compensate for being unemployed and living off of Oats… Which is a sentiment that I know drives her nuts, because she is supportive as all get out, and tells me over and over that my training is an investment in our shared future.
I need to meditate on the phrase “School is my job, school is my job…” until it’s burned into my skull and has chased away lingering notions that my education in a random indulgence.
now that i’m all like older and shit, i guess maybe i oughta begin purging my vocabulary of certain childish utterances such as “totally”, “rad”, and “awesomeness”, not to mention all the swear words.
or i could just say fuck it and get on with my life…
anyway.
THE RADDEST BIRTHDAY CAKE IN THE WORLD!!!!!!!!!ZOMG!!!1!!!!
oats made an amazing cake, cuz i think she loves me. in case you can’t tell, that’s three penguins sitting on an ice shelf in the antarctic ocean.
the penguins are cold, due to some unfortunate freak of evolution or climate, and so have built a fire to keep themselves warm. please ignore the scientific inaccuracies and celebrate the more important fact that THIS IS AN AMAZING CAKE!!!
and i am very very very lucky, to share my life with oats plus all the other excellent friends who shared in the fun at my barbecue.
even the infamous building manager of monday’s unpleasantness dropped off a bottle of wine with an apology, which was beyond any of my expectations!
i just had a complete sobfest freakout because the building manager told me off for the barbecue that we left down in the parking lot in preparation for tomorrow’s birthday party. i’m okay now, but… wow. i don’t know what the fuck is the matter with me, because usually i can handle aggression and confrontation pretty well. there was something about the way this person spoke to me, though: i felt small, and wretched, and bad bad bad. i almost started crying in front of her. instead, i just replied “okay” to everything she said, then closed the door and called oats at work before i started bawling my eyes out. she came home immediately and calmed me down, before going outside and sorting stuff out with the manager. i feel incredibly grateful to her, but also guilty because she had to use a co-op car, and we’ve already had two bookings this past week which puts our usage beyond the credit we get for cleaning one of the cars and our budget is already tight because we’ve decided to visit our families in ontario at thanksgiving. anyway. turns out we actually can have the barbecue, but only on the parking lot itself (not the wooden porch), and the manager apologized to oats for being rude to me. which is nice, but still i feel weirdly on edge. i was supposed to spend the day hanging out with 20-month-old C, but he’s sick… unfortunate for him, not to mention his mom, but also for me because i could really dig some uninhibited neighbourhood exploration and playground time. i need a bike ride.
Filed under: Bike Geek, Co-operator, Homebody, Music Lover, Romantic, Scavenger, Traveler
oats gave me an early birthday present!
it’s a reproduction antique compass in a brass pocket-watch-style case, and i LOVE it. i didn’t own a compass before this… which is odd, considering how important it is to my mental health for me to know my bearings. now i’ll always know what direction i’m heading, and have a something beautiful to look at whenever i’m fretting.
last night we went for a long stroll after dinner, down through the side streets to the ocean. right after we turned homewards, we came across an absolutely incredible piece of furniture at the curb. a quick discussion ensued, made urgent by the encroaching darkness and another passerby eager to check it out if we decided to pass.
the thing is, oats and i are suckers for anything made from solid wood, and we both love the lines of (most) old furniture. aside from that, we’ve been talking about diversifying our income by turning our scavenging into a more lucrative hobby, by selling the pieces that we refinish.
so, i stayed behind to guard our new treasure, and oats took off to find a co-op car. hooray for the car share: the closest vehicle was available, and it just happened to be a minivan! i’ll skip the drama of us trying to load, and simply tell you that i couldn’t even lift one side of this thing. we got it up to our 2nd story apartment by taking advantage of the kindness of burly macho men from downstairs who seemed pleased to work for a 12-pack of sleem@n’s.
and now! behold!
it’s true: we don’t actually need an RCA Victor Magic Voice combination phonograph and radio cabinet from around the 1940s. but it’s so gorgeous, and we got it for the price of some beer and a car booking (totalling ~$31, in case you were wondering). my original thought was that we’d gut it, refinish the wood, and use it as a sideboard with storage underneath… perhaps making the speaker section into a glass-doored display shelf lit from above. however, at the urging of the burly macho men downstairs, that thought is on hold as we try to suss out some more information about the piece. maybe it’d be smarter of us to restore it to working condition? we already have a functional and sexy record/radio cabinet, though very different from this one: it’s more 1960s, but still solid wood, with a low profile, modern lines, and metal legs. personally, i’d rather turn the Magic Voice into something that suits my more immediate need for attractive storage space.
or… sell it? the old sticker on the back says $445 (8th photo from top of series), but who knows what the value is these days. of course, any real value is dependent on what a person might actually pay, which is conditional on a few other factors that aren’t really in our favour: the economy’s crappy, we live on an island, and this thing weighs a ton so is hell to move. also, i like it, and i’m not desperate for cash at the moment. i think my minimum selling price would be $500, because that’d pay for oats and i to each put together a touring bike (using my stash of cherry components, a couple 2nd hand frames, and some new parts too). otherwise, i think i’d rather keep it.
all round, my birthday’s looking pretty great.
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i’m having a bday bbq this upcoming tuesday! it’s at oats’ place (now mine as well), above the square! 5 pm onwards! there’ll be sangria and mojitos and sausages! also, veggie stuff! also, cake! please come!
the pattern making course is excellent, and also not what i was expecting. for some reason, i thought we’d be learning techniques for measuring and adjusting ready-made patterns so that we could then use them to sew better fitting clothing. the goal is still that, but we’re actually learning how to do away with commercial patterns altogether, and instead create basic forms specific to our measurements, which we can then use to make our own patterns from scratch.
it’s like learning how to to bake a cake using flour, sugar, baking soda etc. plus your favourite flavourings, after spending your whole life feeling unsatisfied by treats made from a boxed supermarket mix.
someday, i’m going to sew my butch the most perfect suit she’s ever known.
oats left this morning, and i miss her. my sadness is tempered by the fact that in one week, she’ll be picking me up at the vancouver airport and spiriting me away to our island home. fuck, i’m looking forward to that.
i went with her to the airport shuttle, which left from southern cross station at 8:30 am: it was dark when we got up, and now i’m tired and achy. it doesn”t help that i fucked-up my back a couple days ago… the muscles are seized in my neck and shoulders and there’s a lot of pain. aside from these complaints, and the loneliness that comes from the sudden absence of my beloved after 19 days of constant companionship, it was kinda nice to take the tram home from downtown just as all the commuters were heading the other direction.
what else is new? like i said last post, i’ve applied for two jobs, either of which would be very, very good. one of them pays really well and is professional-ish, though is a 35-hour workweek and could be a lot more admin tasks than i’m used to, plus involves one or two characters with whom i’ve indirectly had problems in the past… nothing serious, just that their attitudes and ways of working have had a negative impact on projects at a previous job. i think i’d really like the rest of the staff, and as much as i’d prefer to keep my workweek down to a 30 hour maximum, it would be nice to have the extra income. the other job is only 15 hours per week, and is everything i’d want in a media/personel position, including a commitment to radical politics and anti-oppressive practices. it pays less, but i’d be collaborating with great people, and the environment would complement my work at the bike shop as well as the workers’ co-op. both are union and come with benefits, which is very important cuz i haven’t seen a dentist or had new glasses since i became a non-student contract employee two years ago.
my fingers are crossed, especially for the second opportunity, but i’m not stressed about it. if neither one pans out, then i’ll have more time for other work, both self-created and external. aside from the usual small businesss plans i’m always cooking up, i’ve been thinking a lot about credit unions as of late, and would like to see if i can get some sort of part-time entry-level position.
in case it isn’t obvious, i’ve reached a point in my melbourne life where i’m no longer really here: my heart has returned to canada, and my mind is quickly following. a few more days of tying loose ends, and then the body goes too!
i’m back from the epic road trip, in which oats and i took a camper van on a meandering adventure from brisbane up to the tropic of capricorn. i wanted to take my photo next to whatever landmark there’d be at the tropic, but guess what? there wasn’t one. wtf??? i know there’s one next to the highway at the tropic of cancer in mexico, or at least there was 15 years ago: it was a big concrete sphere, painted yellow. i was hoping for something similar at this tropic, but apparently that’s not how they roll in queensland. as a geographer, this bothers me: we musn’t take our latitude lines for granted!
actually, the disappointment of there being no landmark would have been easier to take, if the town at the tropic had been a little more welcoming to those of us with diverse presentations of sexuality/gender. rockhampton wasn’t the worst place i’ve ever been, and it’s not like the stares were anything new, but for some reason i couldn’t shake the feeling that in rocky, there might be more follow-through on some of the more narrow-minded beliefs. maybe it was the life size fiberglass bulls all over the place, reminding me of alberta.
it was a fantastic adventure overall, and i’m glad we did it. more stories will come. for now, i need to apply for two jobs that have come up in my home city. i’m not holding my breath for one of the them, but the other would be absolutely perfect for me… apparently other folks agree, cuz 5 different people emailed me the job posting. it’s nice to feel supported.
sun, wind, van, road... queensland!
i had a funny moment this afternoon, where i was suddenly feeling the “why” of my decision to come to australia. there was nothing unusual happening: i was out for a run and had just reached the part of the trail that goes through the gum trees at the corner of the sports field near my house. i suppose it was very beautiful, the landscape i mean, in a dense and urban sort of way. the morning’s fog was just starting to burn off, and there were sun beams coming down through the remaining mist. for that one moment i was simply very much so present, and things felt right.
of course, everything is going quite well… i’ve got a whole bunch of work building a website that i really believe in, my roommates are great folks, i’ve been reading lots, and my lover will be here in 10 days. also, there’s a pot of stew on the stove.
altogether, an excellent celebration of my 200th post on this blog.
- this is the most important clarification that i need to make: though i used the singular personal pronoun “i” in my last post with regards to planning for a future with kids, i’m actually talking about a “we”. which is to say, i was researching options, but the execution of said options will also involve the thoughts, feelings, and energies of my beloved, oats. she’s an equal collaborator in this whole venture. as well, i suppose it’s worth mentioning that we’re also considering adopting older kids, in which case their opinions would be damn important too!
- when i say that i’m estimating $2000 per attempt, that’s specifically for intrauterine insemination with donor sperm at a clinic in my home city. it includes a mandatory counseling session, ovulation-prediction equipment, purchase of sperm from a sperm bank, shipping of sperm to the local lab, preparation of the sperm, insemination by a fertility specialist, and some paperwork fees. we could do it cheaper, definitely, but the chance of success may not be as high. on the other hand, it could be higher, because there’d be less stress. who knows? for now, i’m thinking of investing in a quality ovulation prediction machine, because part of the key here will be timing and i can use all the practice i can get. besides which, i’m a nerd: i love playing with gadgets and making graphs.
- i’m fairly certain that after we’ve been successful with the donor sperm and the child is born, we’ll need to go to court for oats to adopt the baby in order to be legally considered a parent, at an approximate additional cost of $800. which seems crazy. of course, now i can’t remember where i read this, and so i realize i might be completely wrong. i’ll go look for that info right now.
