The myth of monogamy

My first term has ended, and I've been meandering about the Northwest ever since. One night in Seattle, my partner and I were feeling a bit under the weather. We made a delicious pot of soup, and settled in for the evening. We discovered a movie on Netflix that we had both watched and enjoyed in high school - Never Been Kissed.

In Never Been Kissed , '25 year old' Drew Barrymore finds true, everlasting, heterosexual love. Prior to her fantastical discovery, she has never kissed anyone, been in love, or had a relationship. Yet she has no doubts that she is totally emotionally and sexually prepared to enter into a relationship that will be forever (with a man she has misled and betrayed!). Why does she think this? Because it's her destiny!

From the very beginning of the movie, Barrymore's character lectures the audience on the process of true love. First, you share a kiss similar to a fireworks display. Second, you get married and live happily ever after.

Now, it doesn't really matter if you haven't seen this movie. It could have been any movie. The specifics of the plots may differ, but the message remains constant. Growing up in North America, it's difficult to wonder at what the 'appropriate' path for development is. However, if one were to have doubts, they could just have a little movie night.

The relationships portrayed in these movies are not just overwhelmingly white and heterosexual, they are monogamous. They are unquestionably monogamous. Barrymore's character believes that she will share her life with the first person she kisses. In fact, she saves her first kiss for this person. The audience is supposed to support this idea. Further, we are supposed to cheer when the 'happy' couple share their much-anticipated kiss.

Realistically, it is far more likely that their partnership will not work out than that they will triumph in heterosexual monogamous bliss. Divorce rates alone would suggest this; however, what about something way more basic? Monogamy is not simply natural for people. Monogamy must be worked at. It is something that we as North Americans learn to view as natural. And talk about a construction that is heavily promoted! The promotion of monogamy basically engulfs us from birth. Never Been Kissed is one measly example of a movie that reinforces the myth of monogamy.

I wrote this (in a little notebook) while on a plane to Austin, TX. My partner sat next to me, reading the Ethical Slut, a practical guide to polyamory (a book that should have seriously rethought the white privilege of their title), and the man across the aisle kept eyeing us and the book. It is not a coincidence that non-monogamous relationships are more common in the queer community. As queers, we have already failed to fit the bill. We will never be able to live up to society's standard for appropriate, hegemonic relationships. This failure opens up a lot of possibilities. One of them is polyamory. Of course, this isn't just about queerness. This is about all types of relationships that are non-normative: ones that cross racial lines, span age differences, cross religions and cultures. Any failure to fit the mold creates new spaces for exploration. Let's fail in style.

Point of clarification: I do not mean to suggest that people cannot choose to be in monogamous relationships. But that's what they are doing - choosing. Monogamous relationships are not the natural form of relating to each other as in they are social constructions - just like so much of our worlds. They should not be privileged over other types of relationships. People should be able to choose whatever types of relationships fulfill them; no relationship model is inherently more 'natural' than any other in this way.

The assumption game

Welcome back. Today we're going to play a game inspired by my latest trip to the gynecologist. It's called 'find all the assumptions'! It's pretty self-explanatory. I'm going to recount the major verbal interaction in the visit, and we're all going to see how many assumptions we can find 'buried' within the conversation. Ready? Okay, let's play!

Today I went to the gynecologist. After a (very) brief chat about why I was there, the doctor dug into some important basic, background questions. We were discussing sexual activity and partners, when she asked/stated: you're heterosexual, yeah?

L: No, I'm not.

Dr: Oh, then who are your sexual partners?

L: I sleep with women.

At this point, the doctor is getting ready to do a pelvic exam. She asks me if I have ever had sex with a man. This seems entirely irrelevant to my visit and, well, my life, but I responded in the affirmative.

She was relieved! The fact that I had slept with a man meant that she would be able to perform a pelvic exam on me. This seemed like strange logic to me. Luckily, she explained.

L: You know, you could use a speculum even if I had only been with females.

Dr: Many lesbians (her term) can't have a speculum inside.

L: I find that hard to believe. You know females who have sex with females also have penetration, right?

Dr: Some do. Many don't.

Our conversation went on, but that was real gist of the interaction. Let's discuss, shall we?

First, clearly, is the assumption of heterosexuality. Not only did the doctor assume that I was heterosexual, but the way she asked the question implied that it would be offensive to suggest otherwise. I present as queer. There are many reasons for this. One of the reasons is that I want to be read as queer. I am certainly not offended when someone assumes I'm queer. In North American society, you are assumed straight until proven queer. From her question, tone, and inflection, it's clear that my doctor really wanted to give me the benefit of the doubt and the 'chance' to be straight.

While not an assumption, I'm going to go ahead and say her question about my experience with men is inappropriate and, again, offensive. But oh, did it get better! Assumption: queer women can't fuck each other. This is, obviously, false. Unfortunately, my (ex)doctor still labors under the misapprehension that sex is a penis-in-the-vagina game. That's too bad for her. It's also too bad for every one of her queer patients. There are many issues with power dynamics involved in doctor-patient relationships. These can be exacerbated in a gynecological setting because of the vulnerability of the set-up. When a doctor systematically disregards or pathologizes your identity, it doesn't exactly neutralize those concerns.

Moreover, not only is it entirely offensive to suggest that I would not be able to receive a pelvic exam because I don't sleep with men, but it's also just bad medicine. I'm a 25 year old, sexually active female. You are a gynecologist. You need to find a way to give me an exam. That is your job.

I spoke to a pretty rad medical student recently. She told me about the training on GLBTQ issues they were receiving at her school. It makes me hopeful that ultimately there will be some shift in language and care. However, the basic assumptions my doctor made (of heterosexuality and that queer women don't have 'real' sex) are not just part of the medical community. Those assumptions exist everywhere. They are constantly reinforced.

Where do you see them in your life? How do they affect you?

Performing heterosexiness on the main stage

The interwebs are pulsing: Jenelle Hutcherson is Long Beach's first openly gay pageant contestant!

Beauty pageants have a lot of notoriety, famous in feminist discourse for reifying a very strict standard of femininity. What then does it mean when a lesbian enters a beauty pageant?

I think this question is interesting because it cuts at the core of what femininity really is and who is able to achieve/possess it. Already the discourse around Hutcherson's participation in the pageant affirms the heterosexual core of femininity.

I have already read two different versions of the statement with which I started this post. One depicts Hutcherson as simply the first openly gay pageant contestant. The other, however, posits her as the first openly gay pageant contestant to wear a tux, insinuating that there have been other openly gay contestants but they did not perform gender deviance as Hutcherson plans to by presenting in the formalwear associated with the male gender.

This distinction necessitates the question: What is the difference between the participation of a lesbian (I'm using the words Hutcherson uses to label herself) who performs normative gender and the participation of a lesbian who does not?

Femininity is a hegemonic category. Basically, femininity is seen as a given category. Femininity is seen as natural, not constructed. The naturalness of femininity makes all the ways in which it is constructed invisible. It also makes invisible the assumption that there is an understood natural category of the ideal feminine. Hegemonic femininity is inextricably linked with white heterosexuality. It is not possible to be appropriately feminine without being a white heterosexual. 'Real' femininity is constructed in relation to men within the context of heterosexuality.

A critical analysis of the behaviors and actions that a female must engage in to construct femininity further emphasizes this point. Many of the behaviors are centered around sexual desirability. But sexual desirability for whom? The intended, implied, or assumed audience is not queer. It's white heterosexual men. The aim is to be heterosexy.

Okay, let's apply this lens back to Hutcherson. Hutcherson is always already marked as not a real woman because she does not engage in heterosexuality. Further, however, she presents a non-normative gender. She cannot 'pass' as heterosexual because of her gender identity. In North American society there is a strong association between gender identity and sexual identity. It is not always accurate, far from it. It is a product of the heteronormativity of society. If heterosexuality is the norm, then females will behave in order to be sexually desirable to males. Intentionally bunking socially accepted and expected norms around gender presentation implies that a person is not interested in taking part in heterosexuality.

Of course, that may or may not be accurate. What is important is that such behavior is read that way. A person who presents a non-normative gender is coded as queer.

So, Hutcherson, with her non-normative gender presentation, would not be able to 'pass' as heterosexual in the competition. Would she want to? Probably not. She seems pretty loud and proud about her position in the gay community. She is running specifically as an other in the pageant. However, as an other, she doesn't really have an option. Her status as a contestant will always be qualified by lesbian.

And what do people think about her entrance into an event that preserves, embraces, and defines femininity?

Well, it really hasn't been that long since she announced her participation. However, she is not just any other contestant. Clearly. She is the gay contestant. Hey, did you know Hutcherson is gay? That means she is not like all the other contestants. Hutcherson cannot compete in the same way as the other contestants because, well, you know. She's gay.

All comments that I have read so far, whether positive or negative, affirm this otherness.

I want to highlight a few themes I have noticed so far in the comments: appearance.

Oh, did I say few? I meant ONE. Yes, about that. The main theme, not surprisingly, is about Hutcherson's appearance. She is "ugly", "butch", and "gross". People wonder why she won't just find a lesbian contest she could enter - I mean, you don't find straight women trying to enter lesbian contests so clearly lesbians shouldn't try to enter straight contests. Fair is fair, mos.

I won't go through all the comments (I know this post is getting long), but I want to check out one in particular: "I don't care that she is a lesbian but she is really ugly!"

I think this comment nicely sums up some of the points that I was trying to get at in this post. Hutcherson is an attractive person. Really though, Hutcherson is an attractive lesbian. She is certainly not heterosexy. So, in terms of that comment, it does matter that she is a lesbian because that is constructing the frame through which the speaker is defining beauty. The speaker is referring to heterosexual attractiveness, or hegemonic beauty. That is why Hutcherson, who does not perform normative gender or sexuality, is not viewed as possessing it or able to achieve it.

I'm interested to see how the discourse around her participation will develop.

What if this is how it worked

Okay, full disclaimer: this is not a well thought out plan. This plan was hatched by my housemate and me during an evolving rant in our kitchen this past Saturday night. It is not a 'real' idea. It is mostly for fun that I share it.

This past week I read the latest (and most conservative) estimate on the current gender gap in wages. This estimate put women earning an average of 86 cents on the man's dollar.

My housemate and I were discussing equity in rent/utility bills. You can probably see where this is going now. If 'women' (I am using quotes because what is this monolithic 'women' category?) make an average of 86 cents to the dollar, is it really equitable to charge them the same amount as 'men'? Further breakdowns along race, gender identity, sexual identity, class, education level, and so on would clearly be necessary to approach that ever fleeting equity.

Think about it though. If you take two people who have the same job and account for education, professional experience, all the necessary qualifications, part-time status, children in the household, and race - the woman in the dyad will still make 86 cents on that man's dollar. So, in that case, when that fictional woman goes to buy groceries, shouldn't she be able to pay 86 cents to the dollar? Why should she pay the same amount for amenities etc when she is underpaid her wage?

Just wait for it

Last weekend a gay teenager in Ottawa committed suicide. In his suicide note, he referenced the 'It Gets Better' campaign, saying that he just couldn't wait.

I think his comment points to one of the biggest failures of the 'It Gets Better' campaign. Its central message is:

Hey, we know high school is tough - we've been there! But hold on because after you graduate life is going to get a whole lot better. Look, you could have partners and cool jobs and live around other queers. Just wait out that difficult high school period and it will get better!

Certainly, the notion that life gets better after high school, especially for those who are bullied, is an important part of the message. However, especially for those who are bullied, that cannot be the whole message.

Focusing on the idea of 'it gets better' is neglecting the very concrete concerns of the present. Right now there are queer teenagers who are dealing with real hatred, hostility, and violence. Why should they wait for it to get better? They've done nothing wrong. They need it better now. We need to make it better now.

Moreover, when a whole litany of successful queer people say 'yeah, high school was hard for me too, but look at me now!' it unintentionally sends the message that if they can do it, you should be able to do it. No one's high school experience is the same. No one experiences bullying the same way. No queer teenager who is dealing with bullying needs to worry, what's wrong with me? All those queer adults were able to handle it, why can't I? That is an unproductive discourse for a struggling teenager.

The 'It Gets Better' campaign may have been a good way to start having a national conversation about bullying, but the campaign itself is neglecting core issues in favor of having teenagers 'wait it out'. Where does bullying come from? This is about gender, sexism, sexuality, racism, classism. This is about hatred and violence. Real change needs to happen now to address how kids learn about difference. No one should have to wait for there to be less violence in their life.

Check out this video from a group in Seattle called Reteaching Gender and Sexuality. They posted this in response to the 'It Gets Better' campaign when it first started.

And now for something a bit different

I haven't posted in a bit. Apparently grad school requires a bit of work. Also I've had several visitors up here in Canada. This is just a tiny post on a topic that I end up thinking about pretty much daily - bicycling!

I'm a bicycle commuter. I love my bike ride! It's about 16 km to campus. The ride gives me time to unwind, debrief, make little plans in my head, and just think to myself about whatever I want! I really covet that time. It helps me feel balanced.

Vancouver has a pretty developed infrastructure for cyclists - bike lanes, greenways, traffic light buttons specially located for cyclists. They seem to know what they're doing. I take greenways for the majority of my ride to campus. These are non-arterial streets that have been designated as routes for cyclists instead of the busier streets they parallel. They are heavily trafficked by cyclists. I have mixed feelings about them.

On the one hand, it feels safer, and probably is, to travel in large packs of cyclists. Safety in numbers? I like biking with other cyclists. I like the camaraderie. I like when cyclists take over the road and cars just have to wait.

Here's the flip side. These streets are low-car-traffic areas. When drivers use them, they are not expecting to run into other cars. They should be expecting to see cyclists, but, hey, cyclist-awareness is not at the level it could/should be yet. When drivers are not concerned with the possibility of other drivers, they drive differently. Here are the three biggest issues I have observed so far:

Often drivers do the 'rolling stop', briefly looking side to side for cars as they roll part way into the intersection - a notoriously dangerous move for cyclists.

Drivers will approach the small roundabouts, which serve as intersections for many streets, really fast - again, not expecting other drivers so not worried about slowing.

Drivers really want to pass cyclists because they are using this route to bypass the traffic on the busier, arterial street. They pull up real close behind and pass dangerously, driving way too quickly for a small side street that is heavily traveled by cyclists.

I guess what it ultimately comes down to is that it is not enough to create these paths through the city, although they are a nice start. Real safety for cyclists is in awareness. Greenways would work really well if drivers who used those roads only used them for local traffic and then with the extra caution necessary, highly aware that those roads are predominantly utilized by cyclists. Drivers need to care half as much about a cyclist's life as they about getting where they are going as fast as possible. They need to take the extra time to look twice or three times for a cyclist.

Safety is not just the responsibility of a the cyclist. It cannot be.

Do you bike? How is it where you live? Any great ideas?

I didn't realize you were in Sociology

Last night I was joking around with my housemates about this recurring situation, but it's something that I've been thinking about, and I think it's worth sharing.

Many of us in the Sociology department have just finished a 3 week TA training program. Since the Women and Gender Studies Department is fairly small, their students came to our training. A few facts must be stated at the onset: I met many graduate students for the first time at the TA training; my only interaction with many of the grad students was at the TA training; the Sociology graduate population is mostly female and fairly straight.

I've been starting to get my footing more and more at school. I'm on top of my work, I'm understanding what I'm learning, and I'm engaged. I'm beginning to feel like a grad student in Sociology. At the last few training sessions, I was having conversations with other soci students. During these conversations, I figured out that everyone thought I was a Women and Gender Studies student. This is despite introducing myself as a Sociology student. Hm.

In total I was asked 3 times last week if I was in Women and Gender Studies. That's 3 people out of about twenty (including around seven who are in my cohort and know for certain what department I am in and thus would certainly not ask). Well, that's just plain interesting. The trainings were predominantly Sociology students, so it was usually a safer bet to assume someone was in soci. I always said I was in soci. Why, then, would someone think I was in Women and Gender Studies?

Of course, everyone I tell this too immediately knows. Look at me, I just look like the type of person who would study gender. And I do study gender. I study it through the Sociology department, but I study gender and sexuality and feminism and all that super gay stuff.

I think this is super interesting because people see me, take in my identity, and then immediately create ideas about what I must be interested in and concerned with. Now, I happen to study gender; however, there are many queermos out there who do not and that's totally great. Just because someone cannot walk down the street without everyone noticing the salience of their gender identity or their sexuality, does not mean that those concepts have to make up the primary focus of their lives.

I mean, what would be the comparable response in a given situation - when a heterosexual, white woman is surprised to learn that I am not in the Women and Gender Studies program? Oh, you're in Sociology? I thought you were studying...what? What is the stereotypical subject for a straight, white woman to study? Maybe it is Sociology. Maybe that's why there are so many straight, white women and, if it's possible that I could have another affiliation, they assume it's so.

I'm not offended by an affiliation with Women and Gender Studies, clearly. I hail from a Feminist, Gender, and Sexuality Studies background. I study gender. I am in the Sociology department to study gender and sexuality in a way that will provide me with more opportunities.

I do not, however, like being reduced to my identity in that way. Also, shout out to all queer and genderqueer folks out there doing non-gender work and breaking down those barriers.

I was just resting my voice

I don't have classes on Wednesdays, which means that I am not slotted to be on campus. As a grad student, I am expected to attend various seminars, workshops, and lectures that occur frequently over the course of a week. When I open the email, I just cross my fingers that the 'optional' event will not fall on a Wednesday. It's a nice campus, but it really breaks up my day to throw in a 32 km roundtrip bicycle commute.

Today I did have to be on campus (woot!). I gathered up my laptop and some books and headed for a local coffee shop on the drive. I spent the majority of the day working through various assignments and readings. In the late afternoon I headed back, puttered around, made some delicious kale-inspired dinner, and then got back to work.

Now it's 8:30 pm, and I've realized that I've about 3 actual interactions with people today. Yikes. I ordered an americano from a woman this morning. That was a consumer-based interaction. I was paying for the treatment I received from her. I had a couple brief interactions with folks at the coffee shop. They were not sustained conversations; they were in reference to some shared observation.

Typically my housemates and I have a pretty good interaction going on throughout the day. However today we seem to be on different schedules.

When I don't actually communicate with people for a day, I feel like less of a person. By the end of the day, I have an urge to call someone (or everyone that I know) and tell them everything that I noticed throughout the day. Or to just start talking out loud. I'm not calling anyone though. I'm blogging. Why?

Well, it seemed appropriate because I think that one of the reasons I can go a whole day without actually talking to someone is because so much happens on the internet. I did have some conversations on gchat with friends. I also exchanged several emails with family members, fellow grad students, and professors. In fact, I was receiving emails from the Sociology department all day long. In some ways, I was in constant contact. My phone, gchat, email. Why privilege face-to-face interactions over virtual ones? Now that I live on the other side of the border, I have come to rely heavily on technology to keep my connected with my community back in Seattle. For the first time I have a phone that accesses the internet. I also use Skype.

Since I am still relatively new to Vancouver, I just don't know that many people. I think that part of learning how to be comfortable with that type of newness, is feeling comfortable with your own silence. When you are part of an established community, you often have at least a couple opportunities throughout the day to express yourself in relaxed settings- maybe with a partner or out with friends. I'm realizing that to be settled with this transition, I need to allow for the time that it takes to develop those spaces. That process will necessarily involve times of loneliness, isolation, and silence. Those are not necessarily negative things though they have a negative connotation. There is a lot to be learned by sitting with yourself.

In the meantime, technology, though it does not replace face-to-face interactions, can provide a means for a certain type of very necessary communication.

Are you scared of loneliness and silence? Why?

Number 1 or number 2?

I want to talk about bathrooms. I have been thinking about this issue for a long time.

Unless you stumble upon some special progressive washroom configuration, there are always two choices for bathrooms- men or women, boys or girls, ladies or gentlemen, or, if you're in a beach themed restaurant, maybe it's buoys and gulls. As a person who presents gender ambiguously, bathrooms represent one of the ultimate demonstrations of how poorly I fit the mold or, I would argue, how poorly the mold fits people like me. I can go through most of the day without incident and then bam! there's the bathroom dilemma. Society's bathroom dyad asks me- are you sure you're a woman? Do you look like a thin line atop a triangle skirt?

Outside of queer spaces, I get nervous going into the women's room. This anxiety is not unfounded. I have had many incidents in the bathroom. They have ranged from benign elderly women asking me if they are in the right place to aggressive, intoxicated cisgendered heterosexual women at straight clubs invading my personal space and verbally harassing me. I still have not figured out a response that I feel comfortable articulating in these situations.

I want to recount my most recent bathroom incident because a) it wasn't hostile and b) I think it explains something really interesting about people's reaction to the presence of person with a variant gender expression in 'their' bathroom.

I was eating dinner and having drinks at a restaurant in Vancouver that hosts musical performances. When I went to the bathroom, there were two women around 60 years old in there standing by the sink. One of them gave me a prolonged look as I entered. She then turned to her friend and said, "Is there a men's washroom?" Her friend answered that there was. She next asked, "Are we in it?" Her friend answered that no, they were not. I laughed a little because it seemed ridiculous at the time and walked into a stall.

Her basic line of thought upon seeing me was: Are you in the right place? Am I in the right place? And if we're both in the right place- how?

I find this confusion interesting because it really underscores the gender policing that happens on a daily basis. People have such rigid notions of 'woman' and 'man' that the presence of a person who opens up that construct or maybe openly defies it is threatening. But really, what would be so terrifying about a non-woman entering the woman's washroom? There is a tremendous amount of fear of the Other fueling people's responses.

What do you think are good (read: appropriate, educational, witty, empowering) responses for bathroom confrontations?

Orient yourself

What a week! Graduate School Orientation was Thursday. I moved Thursday night. Then International Student Orientation was Friday.

Orientation was just plain exhausting. From 9am-5:30pm the entire new graduate class at UBC was herded through welcome remarks, info sessions, meet-and-greets, and workshops. Throughout the day we were encouraged to mingle with our new colleagues. However, we were all just lumped in there together, in overwhelming proportions.

When I see I a new group of people and know absolutely no one, I look around for people that I can identify with, based on different reasons. The first thing I look for is if they have a similar gender expression or seem to be presenting as queer. However, I also look for people who might be carrying a bicycle helmet or who have interesting tattoos. Sometimes it's an attitude thing, a dress thing, a food thing, or a presence thing. The point is that I'd rather scope out the scene a bit and approach someone I think that I might have a couple things in common with then just strike up a conversation with every Finance major that stands next to me (no offense to the friendly man from Montreal, and good luck with your studies).

I have a few reasons for relying on this tactic. One is that I actually get kind of nervous in overwhelming social situations and tend to shrink back. Another is that, I admit, I'm a judgmental person. I'm working on it. Finally, the reason I make those judgments is largely based on a survival perspective to social encounters.

I am a queer person with an intentionally gender ambiguous presentation. I'm a sex educator, I'm vegan, I'm culturally Jewish but a practicing atheist. Over the years I've realized that to some my identity is anything but benign. I am proud of who I am and the experiences that brought me here. Thus, I seek out communities and people who will understand and appreciate that.

I saw many people at Orientation just sitting down next to anyone and starting conversations. It is a privilege to not have to consider your race, gender identity, sexual identity, or identity at all during an interaction. Folks who are not in the dominant group do have to consider (to many different degrees) their identity at all times. For instance, I have to consider my gender and sexual identity; however, I am not forced to consider my race. I must actively choose to be aware of my racial privilege.

I look for people with similar gender expressions or for queer people because I feel safer around them. When I had trouble finding such people on Thursday, I felt incredibly alone. Not just alone because I didn't know a single person at the Orientation (or in Vancouver) but because I didn't see a single person "like me". A single person with a similar identity.

It is not that I think that I will not get along with people who have different identities. I made a few friends later in the day, all of them non-queer identified. However, as someone who does have to consider my identity all the time, it's important to have friends/a community who reflect that for the seemingly simple reason that around them, I would not have to consider my identity.

What makes you feel safe in a new social situation? What do you look for in new people?

It's all about location

Prior to this past weekend, I knew almost nothing about Vancouver. When looking for housing, I checked out a map and decided that it would make sense to live halfway between campus and downtown. Coming from Seattle, I had no interest in actually living on the campus. I need a city environment.

Here's the deal. The University of British Columbia is located on the far west end of Vancouver. It is neighbored by Point Grey and Kitsilano. I had heard rumblings about those neighborhoods versus somewhere like East Van, but nothing concrete enough to make me turn down a cheap room I found that seemed promising.

My girlfriend and I showed up at the aforementioned house in Kits last week, sweaty and exhausted from immigration and traffic woes. The street is on a hill that slopes down with elegant houses overlooking English Bay. It is very posh, it is very white, and it is very straight. Downtown looked like a beautiful picture hung in the background.

We walked into the house and met J, an undergraduate Geology major. E asked him how long it took to bike downtown. J informed us that it only took him about 30 minutes because he tended to just crush it once he got on his bike, but it would probably take us 45 minutes- an hour. After bicycle touring from Port Angeles to San Francisco, I am unfortunately used to men assuming a lack of strength/ability due to my size and gender. However, in terms of qualities I look for in a housemate, sexism is not high up on the list.

For many reasons, hanging around the house was an unappealing option. We ventured out into the Kits nightlife in search of a vegetarian/vegan restaurant. We were very noticeably the only queer couple at the place. People watched us. Especially when we were affectionate.

The next day we left Kits behind and set out for East Van. I felt so much more relaxed just seeing more queer people around. It's very isolating to be somewhere where the surrounding community does not at all reflect your identity. I find it exhausting.

Originally when I was thinking about housing, I thought it was most important to be close to the university. I am here to learn, after all. One night in Kits reminded me that feeling validated in yourself and your identity is a top priority, always. I would rather bicycle ten miles to get to school everyday then feel like an Other, a constant target for the dominant Gaze.

I'm moving tomorrow into a house in East Van with other queer people. When I told my current housemates the location of the house, they said "Oh yeah, that seems better for you". I couldn't agree more.

A son for each of us

I have just recently arrived in Vancouver, BC, having left behind familiarity, friendships, love, and a sense of security. Why did I leave Seattle to become an ex-patriot? Well, I am here to learn. After a three-year hiatus from academia (during which I engaged in much different pursuits), I am making a somewhat shaky return. Next week I start a Masters program at the University of British Columbia in Sociology with a concentration in Gender and Sexuality.

Asking questions is a central tenant of research. Maybe that is why I have been thinking about the four sons so much recently. However, it could just be because it is one of my favorite passages from the Haggadah. That is also probably a result of the fact that I had to read it every year since I learned to read. The story of the four sons is read on Passover, and it is supposed to be read by the youngest (literate) person at the table. It tells of a wise son, wicked son, simple son, and son who does not yet know enough to ask a question. These sons are representative of different ideologies in Judaism. As a kid, I did not know this. Still, it was an intriguing passage for me simply because of the wicked son, who asks the father "Why did God spare you in Egypt?" The wicked child clearly does not include himself in the Jewish people, judging by his use of 'you' instead of 'us'. Thus, the father is supposed to respond harshly by blunting his teeth and telling him that if he had been Egypt during the time of the Pharaoh, God would not have spared him.

Well, damn. That is a harsh response. Especially for a child. Especially given the fact that the father does not first talk with his son in order to better understand him. Was the kid really trying to separate himself from the rest of the Jewish people? Maybe, maybe not. And if so, is eternal damnation the way to get him to come around to his faith? Um, maybe. Maybe not.

I don't study religion. At all. But I read this passage out loud to a table of conservative Jews every year for about a decade. It never sat right with me. Sometimes I laughed because I found it so ridiculous. Now I kind of like it because the urgent fear that the father responds with represents the power of a question. Way to go, wicked child. Challenge it all with a question.

That is the tone I would like for this blog- challenge it all with a question. A question can take many forms. Sometimes a question is words, sometimes it's a photograph, sometimes it's a choice, sometimes it's a body. I will use this blog to engage with my experiences here in Vancouver, exploring a new city while asking questions.