The Essence of Queer

Oh, the adventures in Australia I have yet to write about: the disturbing public art, the horrifically racist money, the plethora of awesome internationals I’m meeting…but none of these are making the blog tonight. This piece is about one word: Reinvention. But first I apologize; I’ve not been updating this blog recently for two major reasons: 1) I’ve been damn busy with orientation at the university and 2) I really haven’t even thought about anything trans-related since arriving in Australia. It’s not that I don’t think I should refrain from sharing the vast non-trans aspects of my life with you, rather for a blog titled “The Trans Configuration,” it feels weird to diverge from the subject for too long. But not thinking about trans issues kind of makes updates difficult. What’s worse is there has been a lot of activity in the trans world: the murderer of Lateisha Green was found guilty of manslaughter as a hate crime (should have been murder), and the hate crimes bill was attached to the DoD bill—the significance of which will soon enough play out. I’m sure I’m missing other news; it’s not that these stories aren’t important…I just haven’t been as invested in the world of trans (or queer) issues lately. This has been strangely refreshing for me, as it’s opened up time for reading science again, like I used to in high school. Déjà vu.

Alright then, onwards we go. Earlier today I was listening to the awesomeness and brilliance/idiocy of Alix Olson—give her music/poetry/musical-poetry a listen, you may develop the same love/hate relationship with her I have. In a world that alienates, rapes and abuses the queer community, women, and anyone outside the status quo, her words are filled with the necessary venom and bile to fight back; her indignation is righteous…then again, she also loves to refer to God as a woman (as in mother-goddess culture) and uses the word “herstory” instead of “history”—it’s the same kind of thing as spelling women with a “y”—it’s just poor literacy. Enough of that, though, this isn’t necessarily about her poetry. Alix Olson reminds me so much of the militaristic dyke-genderqueer-purely-for-political-reasons (i.e. genderfuck confusing itself for genderqueer) group that, to the best of my knowledge, is still so prominent in the GLBTA organization up at Washington State University—and not that their specific gender identity (or lack thereof) isn’t fine and good, I just tend to remember how much these specific people promoted a subtle, quiet version of transphobia and anti-feminine sentiment. I generally don’t have problems with militaristic genderfuck dyke feminism; no, the problems only arise when they denigrate desire to be feminine or suggest that gender doesn’t exist. Oh yeah, no bitterness here.

Today on Postsecret I read a postcard that said, “I might say I don’t wear makeup because I believe it objectifies women…But I’m really just cheap & lazy.” The rub of femininity in second-waver feminism, to which my genderfuck “friends” cleaved, is a false assumption that all the traditional feminine exercises are propagations of the objectification of women—everything from makeup to socialized behaviors is assumed synonymous with efforts to attract and serve men; hence the enigma (or assumed hypocrisy?) of the lipstick lesbian. Ha. A balance between conforming to what society tells you if chic or sexy, and what you want to do with your own fucking body for your own damn self-gratification (oh, you know you love the sudden vulgarity).

I’ve been considering trying on a more feminine gender expression for some time now (as anyone who has read this blog for a while may know), and now I actually have the perfect opportunity to do just that: here in Adelaide there is a place called Taboo Haircutters—they specifically advertise an expertise in consulting with their customers, then crafting a style that meets the customer’s personality, style, and flatters their physical features; best yet, they do full-blown make-overs (well, makeup and hair makeovers). It’s that whole bit about flattering one’s own physical features that peaked my curiosity, because I have no idea what that even means. Does that mean they want to make their clients fit society’s mold for beauty? If so their marketing strategy is equal parts brilliant and fucked up. All the same, I’m thinking this is a perfect opportunity for me to run some fabulous experiments. Not only is this an easy way to try out a more feminine expression, but now I run the experiment of what this taboo place will do with the likes of me: a tattooed queer trans woman looking for the tomboy-feminine. It’s a reinvention not only of the self, but also of the very meaning of femininity; deriving strength from something that’s supposed to be weak and utilizing something that’s supposed to be a ploy for attracting men for something completely non-sexual—something completely non-straight. I’m queering…I don’t know what. As a trans woman I’m entering a conformist’s territory, but as a queer tattooed girl I’m breaking with the status quo. But that’s the beauty of this all: once you start living life on your terms you do away with the status quo and enter the essence of Queer.