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Jessica Xavier



The Straight Queer

By Jessica Xavier


He waddles when he walks. He trembles when he talks. He's out in public for maybe the first time before midnight. He never makes eye contact with the other shoppers in this late evening in some mall of the Americas. Yet those teenagers teased him back at the multiplex, the security guard stared him down, the guy at the shoe store nearly lost his dinner waiting on him, and the lesbian clerk at the plus sizes women's clothes store nearly punched him out. He's a straight queer.

At least his wife understands him. Sort of. She came to terms with his crossdressing years ago, when she realized that how happy and whole it made him feel. Sure, there've been some close calls, but the neighbors don't know or don't care. And the children are still in the dark. And he's not gay or transsexual, thank god. He's just a straight queer.

And then there's that short but chesty guy who pumps gas at the all-night gas station. He always greets you with a smile through his patchy beard when you stop for gas after working late. It's odd that he doesn't seem to know that much about cars, but he says he's learning. He seems really tired all the time, and when you ask him why, he simply tells you he's got two kids back home with his wife, and he's got some big medical bills to pay, so he's working three jobs. He's the last guy you'd ever think would be a straight queer, but he is.

That girl at the office is awfully tall and big-boned, with broad shoulders to boot. When you ask her if she played basketball or volleyball in high school, she just smiled and says in her unusual, low voice that she's not into sports. She doesn't talk much about her childhood, but she grew up far, far away from here. At times, she seems to drift off into space, especially when you talk to her about your children. She's can't have any kids, she says, because of a childhood accident. There's a picture of her husband on her desk, and she appears normal in all respects, but she is also another straight queer.

The Q word. Queer.

As in different in a defiant or derogatory way.

As in peculiar in a proud or pejorative sense.

Queer as in Quentin Crisp. Quite.

Queer as in homosexual.

Queer as opposed to:

Straight.

Straight as in heterosexual.

Straight as in normal.

Straight as in narrow.

Straight as in a line you don't cross, mentally, physically, and definitely sexually.

Straight as in a line you can't seem to draw that way, no matter how hard you've tried, all your life.

It used to be that queer simply meant gay. It still does, but does it also mean transgendered, when someone reads you and calls you it, hurling the epithet as readily as if you were gay? In their hate-filled eyes, queer means gay, lesbian, bisexual, drag and transgendered. All of us.

Or does it? In this day and age of identity politics, your right to self-identify yourself is important, and not many of us would choose to use an offensive term to describe ourselves. But for those of you unfamiliar with sexual minority politics, queer has been taken back as a term of empowerment. Much like the N word amongst younger African-American males, younger gay men, lesbians and bisexuals now proudly identify as queer, thus removing all the pain behind the societal stigmatization. If you say it over and over again, the word looses its sting. So it's become a generational thing, to use it with pride as part of your self-identity.

But who owns the Q word, anyway? Just gay men and lesbians? What about the bisexuals? What about we transgendered? Many gay men and lesbians feel that bi's or trans people aren't really queers. Thus we have the phenomenon of the queer but narrow mind. Maybe queer once implied just homosexuality, but now many if not most bisexuals use it proudly. Through the rise of Queer Theory in the early nineties, it's became broadened to mean a non-standard sexuality, as opposed to vanilla het sex between and man and a woman.

But who is queer and who isn't? How gets to say? Is queer in the eye of the beholder? Is queer like pornography - you know it when you see it? Well, then - the bigots are right about something - gay men, lesbians, bisexuals and transgendered, we all are queer.

As an out trans queer, I am proud to claim the Q word as part of my identity. Why? Well, I guess because I'm also bisexual, something I suspect that more than a few other transgendered persons are too, but can't or won't admit it. I also strongly identify with other queer people, gay men, lesbians, bisexual men and women, and drag queens and kings whom I admire for their strength, their courage, their ability to adapt under adverse circumstances. Been there, doing that myself, too - so I guess I've got a lot in common with them. Certainly, politically. By working with them, I may yet see my vision of a future without fear, for all of us, become reality.

But there's even more to it than that. Perhaps I am being way too painfully honest about my "unnatural" nature. Sure, I transitioned seven years ago, had SRS five years ago, and I suppose I could now assimilate into the "normal" world of non-transsexuality. I have been told that I now pass well enough to claim non-transsexual status. But I can't, or more properly, wont, because I like being open about my identity, since I paid such a very dear price for it. Of course, this makes me difficult to employ, and it rules out me ever being with a straight man who's not a trans-fan. Yes, yes, I know - I'm squandering my nontranssexual, heterosexual potential.

I know I am out there, in more ways than one. I have dealt with gay, lesbian and bisexual queers who think they know what it is to be queer. Queer as in homosexual sex. Queer as in sucking cock, licking pussy, fucking each other with dildoes or jumping into a dungeon dance filled with churning bodies intertwined in a polymorphous perversity of ways. Queer sex is wonderful, and I'm glad gays, lesbians and bisexuals have it for their fun and self-fulfillment - as long as it's safe queer sex. But as queer as queer sex is, it's still only queer within their own bedrooms and within their nightclubs, for when the straight media's cameras zoom in on a queer pride parade, there are only a few images that stand out. The drag queens and the leatherfolk. The media's lust for cheap sensationalism frustrates the hell out of the passing gay crowd. Why?

There is nothing more queer than a man in a dress. For those of you who are offended by that, I'll repeat myself. There is nothing more queer than a man in a dress. That means you, sister. Although you faithfully take it home to your wife every night, everybody else (and I mean everybody else in your life who isn't transgendered like you) would think that your crossdressing makes you queer if they knew about it. As Audre Lourde once said, "Your silence will not protect you." Neither will your denial. But you know you're heterosexual. Your wife knows you're heterosexual. Perhaps even your kids know you're heterosexual. Your dog knows you're heterosexual. I know you're heterosexual. We all know its unfair. But like it or not, the rest of the world thinks you're queer. O.K. So be a straight queer.

And what about you "real" women and men who are post-transition, post-surgery, post-being out about being trans - those "former" transsexuals now firmly ensconced in a new closet with no past? Who do you think you're fooling? Yourself, of course. With an anatomy that's been grafted and constructed, a biochemistry dosed and altered, an identity made up and re-invented, you don't think all that is just a teansy bit different from everyone else? Maybe just slightly extraordinary? Perhaps more than a little bit queer? Yes, you look normal, act normal, have sex normally. By all appearances you're normal. You're just a straighter queer than most.

Please don't get me wrong - I'm not judging anyone in particular. I'm judging all of us. While it's true that we all have suffered too damn much just by being transgendered to second-guess each other's choices, most of that suffering is suffered by our sufferance of it. I have come to think that our little dances of denial are destructive not only to ourselves but to the trans community itself. We are, all of us, being damaged by our fundamental dishonesty.

Back off, you say? Yes, I once wrote that self-identification is a personal right, and unless you assert that right, someone else will probably screw it up. But when you are getting beat up by a skinhead punk who thinks you're out that night to have sex with him, who's perception counts more - your own 'heterosexuality' or his 'queer' ? Or when you get arrested by a vice cop who suspects you of soliciting? Or when you loose your job after being outed as a crossdresser or transsexual, what counts more - your employer's perception or your own? When somebody reads you in the parking lot as you go into the mall and calls you a queer, are you going to stop and argue with them? I think not.

Instead of being intimidated by the term, think of it as a badge of honor, as extraordinarily different. Because, unlike the rest of the great unwashed, it's your difference that makes you special. You understand the twin mysteries of male and female so much more completely than the non-transgendered. You are unique. You are different. You are a gender queer. Sadly, we have come to look at our trans queerness as a badge of shame, and worse, we are generally clueless about teaching pride in our community. Pride begins with honesty. That others do not understand our difference is a perceptual gap we must bridge. That is the challenge, the same one that other queer people must face.

And as a political activist, I will tell you that job is much easier if we can work effectively together with others whom society has labeled queer. I live in Washington, DC, and have dealings with and friends in all the major queer political groups. Parents and Friends of Lesbians and Gays (PFLAG). The Gay and Lesbian Alliance Against Defamation (GLAAD). The Gay and Lesbian Victory Fund. The National Gay and Lesbian Task Force (NGLTF). And yes, even the Human Rights Campaign Fund. While mostly everyone I talk with says they want to be inclusive of transgender people, more than a few mention that small matter of our heterosexuality. Yes, yes, yes, we know about Stonewall, they say, but why do so many of you transgendered people insist that you are straight?

I became politicized during the March On Washington in 1993, when I worked a lot of hours as a volunteer for the Host (DC) Committee. One of our main problems was doing outreach to the straight community. I told Deborah Bell, the National Coordinator for the MOW, that I was already doing outreach to the straight community - my own local transgendered support group, which was composed of mainly heterosexual crossdressers. She said, "That's not straight", and I said, "but they think they are." As if heterosexuality affords absolution for the great sin of being born transgendered. I don't think so.

As much as I want transgender inclusion in the queer movement, I cannot misrepresent us. The majority of transgendered people are heterosexual, and there is no changing that fact. But why can't we identify as queer too? I've heard Kate Bornstein express the opinion that "crossdresser" is the only truly radical identity these days, and that transsexualism is assimilationist. She's right. To be radical is to be very different is to be queer. We should not be afraid of the term any longer, especially when it would do so much to help our inclusion in the larger queer movement.

At this point in the gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender movement, we are unfortunately trapped in an us-versus-them internal struggle, with identity politics wrecking havoc on attempts at unity and synergy. Thus far, the radical right is ignorant of these internal divisions, which is a good thing, too. They are becoming very media-savvy, already using the queer as instruments of fear and scapegoating us for the deteriorating American family and all sorts of other social ills, in an effort to preserve their economic privilege while enforcing "Christian" codes of behaviors and beliefs. They are seeking a two-tiered society, one with power and wealth, one subservient and without hope. And they are winning.

If this sounds like an alarm and a call to arms, it is. Stop being afraid of your essential queerness. Queer is different. Queer is radical. Queer is good. Queer is who you are. Do you know the old Queer Nation Chant?

We're here. We're queer. We're transgendered.

Try chanting it the next time you get crossdressed. Try it on for size - it just might fit. So move over, gay men, lesbians and bisexuals. There truly isn't anyone more queer than a man in a dress, or a woman in a suit and tie. We're all straight queers here, and we're proud of it.

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