My girlfriend, from far across the land, asked me yesterday if I thought that femme women in Pakistan were lesbian for a transitory time before marrying a guy and turning straight again.
Now, the thing is that I’m PMSing big time. So I’m mildly homicidal. And, to be honest, I don’t like anyone when I’m in that mood. So I was having a great deal of trouble communicating civilly as it is when this question was flung at me and I got sort of pissed about it.
But what was difficult about the question for me was this:
- women who are femme are less devoted to their queerness
- women who are bi are less devoted to their queerness (perhaps a leap there, but I’m a bi chick pmsing)
- she’s not femme!
- it’s a choice based on anything besides surviving to live a tolerable, abuse-free life.
One of my best friends, when I was lamenting about this to him, asked me if that wasn’t an old chestnut – the thing about bisexuality and copping out being linked so closely together. But I’ve never experienced it as something that is dying a natural death. It’s always been fairly live in my life – either as a form of self-loathing or as something that comes from outside and usually as a combination thereof. It doesn’t matter where you are; it’s lesbian or bust, at least in your philosophy.
So I finally decided to fuck that shit. And I did so with my usual sudden righteous indignation. I haven’t really unleashed it anywhere (and I don’t call this unleashing because I’m not using enough of the word ‘fuck’ for it to qualify) but it’s coming. Because a lot of things become easy for a lot of queer people and easy is good. Easy is better than misery, torment and a recurring desire to kill yourself. And there is no ease in bi-ness: just because you could fuck a man doesn’t mean there is a man out there you want to fuck and, if there is, it doesn’t mean you stop wanting to fuck women and, when you do, that desire and consequent action is no less deviant. As my Chasing Amy lifestyle will attest, it’s a barrel of angry monkeys on acid instead.