That's "Ms" Sweetie to You

"These always remind me of Easter!" the cashier told the customer in front of me.  He was referring to a bag of bulk Jordan Almonds painted in pastel hues of pink, white, yellow, purple and a color that might equally pass for blue or green.

"Oh, me too!" she replied.

They yakked, and my eyes strayed to the magazines lining the aisle.  "Eating Well" has an attractive picture of peppers on its cover.  "Albuquerque Magazine's" cover has a picture of an attractive person.

"You have a good day, sweetie!"

My head whipped around involuntarily, like a trebuchet flinging a loaded rock at the cashier.  Did he just call that customer "sweetie?"  With dread, I approached the payment kiosk.

I know that not everyone has an aversion to strangers using terms of endearment.  And, if that is the case, I say keep feeling that way!  It is much easier to go through life feeling fine about these things.  To me, however, assuming a level of intimacy with me by using a pet name only my mother and some sexual partners use, is creepy.

Some have asked why I can't just take comments at face value -understand them for the intention behind them- not the words specifically used.  Remember, "it's the thought that counts!"

Let's say for a moment that Mr. Cashier genuinely was offering a nice gift.  Using words is too subject to interpretation, so let's say it was something tangible, like a waffle iron.  I don't want a waffle iron, but I'll be polite about it.  After all, he means well.  A problem occurs though when the next cashier, AND random person on the street, AND casual acquaintance, etc. all also give me a waffle iron I don't want.  And yes, I will try to be polite for the first 100 or so times.   I mean, I like waffles, and they're being nice, right?  After that, I can understand that the individual offering the nice gift genuinely wants me to be pleased, but it's too many waffle irons.  I find it difficult to continue being as polite even though waffle iron giver #101 is just as genuine about the gift as the first giver.*

Intent though, isn't really the best way to make sure everyone is okay.  If someone is helping me nail together some boards and I slip and accidentally push a nail through that person's hand with the nail gun, it's all well and good that I intended to nail the board, but the reality is that someone now needs to go to the hospital and have a tetanus shot.  Maybe that person thinks Jesus was a swell guy but doesn't want to emulate him in that specific way.  It's fair to say that we can use intent to mediate our reactions, but I think it's within the injured person's right to be upset with me and not within my right to tell them "hey, don't blame me!  I meant to nail the board next to your hand! Why can't you accept that?"

But too I question the intent of strangers who call me pet names.  It seems like there is some assumed intimacy in doing so.  Like, what if the person giving me the waffle iron was doing so with strings attached?  What if, I'm expected to smile, whether I feel like it or not, so that the giver feels good?  Or the giver assumes that giving me a waffle iron means that I'll use it and gets mad when I throw it in the nearest dumpster?  Remember, I never wanted the iron in the first place and it wasn't up to me that someone handed it to me.

What we call people defines who we think they are and what our relationship is.  There is power in naming.  When I was in nursing school, the program dictated that we call our instructors by an honorific and their last name.  The pretense of this was respect; and while I thought the practice of bestowing respect through a naming convention was short sighted, galling and a bit militaristic, the point remains that familiar names (and in this case first names specifically) are considered too close for a proper amount of respect between unrelated individuals.

I have rarely heard men calling other men whom they don't know "sweetie," "honey," "dear," or anything like that.  When I have, it's been in overtly sexualized situations where either both people are presumed gay or the person naming the other is being threatening (i.e. gay bashing).  And of course, in the latter example, we see the evidence that it's exceptionally bad for men to be treated as women.  They are "less than" other men, and thus, women themselves too are less than men.  So maybe assigning me a pet name also assigns me a "less than" status because he wouldn't do that to a man he respects.  And maybe it sexualizes me by decreeing some kind of closer relationship between us than really exists.

It's true that it is not fair to say that this action done by this person makes him a misogynist.  We can not logically apply evidence of systems to individual behavior and call the conclusion necessarily accurate.  However, we can say that someone's acting in line with a system, in this case, misogyny.  And we're all responsible for creating the kind of systems we want functioning in the communities of which we are part.

I mean, I've cleaned the mucous out of a tracheostomy humidifier mask.  I've stood on top of a telephone pole and jumped off into a harness.  I moved across the country without knowing anyone where I was headed, having no job and no vehicle.  And you call me "sweetie?"

I keep my gaze decidedly neutral during the checkout process.  "My day is fine, thanks.  How's yours?"  What was I going to do if he called me "sweetie?"  "Yes, the number for those bulk pecans is 6593."

"Here's your receipt.  Have a good day, sweetie!"

He did it.  Really.  I am ill and nervous and angry all at once.  Someday I hope I can deliver this with a stunning smile, but for now, the best I can do, my heart pounding in my throat, is say, "You too, baby cakes" and turn and run.

*This analogy is illustrated really well by Tess Paras, only she uses the gift of cheeseburgers and likens it to cat calling.  If you haven't watched this before, really take a few minutes to do so.  It really captures what we're talking about here.  Click to watch Tess's video.

It's a T-Shirt! It's a Joke! It's Patriarchy!

It's 1759 hours.  In one minute, I turn off the OPEN sign, lock the door and commence with the final processes of my work day.  "NaNaNa" chirps the door bell, enthusiastically admitting two customers.  Okay, I can do the friendly, upbeat thing once more.

My new customers tell me that they usually shop at Enchanté*, a competitor of ours of whom we have a low opinion.  They continue to tell me how they used to buy Hustler shirts there but they seem to have stopped carrying them.  But *this* shirt (customer points to his chest) they are carrying and isn't it so great?

His shirt says the following: "Just the Tip... I promise."

Nod-and-Smile::Bite-Your-Tongue time has just occurred.  I wish I could just gently (or not so gently) say that I do not find something funny, but I actually like my job and wish to keep it.

In case you are not following, the statement on that shirt is someone with a penis, who wishes to insert it into someone else who is reluctant.  The penis person makes a "promise", that sounds insincere, about inserting only a small amount of the penis in order to coerce the other person into agreement.  This is an enormous, red-flag waving, Holy-Hippopotamus-Stop-Signs assault on the concept of consent.

Consent is a tougher, more complex thing than most people realize.  Understanding it as an answer to a question, is the shortsighted way that our society has boiled down this complex subject into "yes" or "no".

Wait.  Let me say that again.  Consent is more than "yes" or "no".  Seeing it as that is not wrong, per se, but it is the grammar school level of understanding.  Most of us never get education past this point.  The only education I remember past this** was in my first year at college when a group of students put on a skit for us newbies in which one person repeatedly asked for someones water bottle and the other person gave them varying answers including a non-verbal answer.

Oh, so we need to pay attention to non-verbal yeses and nos.  Wow.  How enlightening.  And also, I get what they did there, but most people when facing the situation of deciding whether or not someone is into having sex with them, are not going to think "Ok, is this person treating the sex I want to have like that water bottle?"

If we move our concept of consent from answer to agreement, we change the map.  This is no longer call and response like we did in kindergarten.  This is a conversation, the way adults have.

Whoa, what's that look like when it comes to sex?  Let me illustrate:

Old way
"I like you..." Mmmmphphphmmmlllph <-- kissing etc. ensues leaving participants to feel anything between super happy and super unhappy.

Or, this way that I think people fear when we talk about getting consent:
"Is it okay for me to touch your thigh?"
"Yes."
"Okay" -touches thigh.
"Is it okay for me to kiss your mouth?"
"No."
"Okay."

Not very sexy, eh?  No.  But sex with consent doesn't have to look like a misshapen tangle of partial communications and solitary pleasures, or this stop-and-go action of asking at every juncture.

New way
"I want to touch your thigh and kiss your mouth.  Would that be okay?" "Mmm, I'd love you to touch my thighs, but I don't want to mouth kiss yet. Would you suck on my ear too?"

And we can dress up that conversation with whatever hot scenario stuff we want.  Kinky?  Change it into a command, where someone's non-yes or no response tells you what they want.  The best example of this I have read was from Dossie Easton who mentioned the clever way that someone got their answer by telling the bottom "If you want me to spank you harder, you better get your ass up in the air."  Clever, eh?  No one had to break roles and there is an easy indication of desire based on whether the bottom wiggles his butt higher.

When we become partners in consent like this, each person has to be responsible for their own desire, naming it, being honest about it.  It takes trust and faith that the other person will be honest, with you and themselves.  This is one of the things that makes sex into a seriously adult venture because that is difficult!

I recently said to a teen "what would it be like if all the sex you ever had, you enthusiastically wanted to have?" and it seemed like I had asked him something far more bizarre like, "If you could have lunch with Grover, lamp post or my sneakers, which porpoise would you connive?"  

Learning how to know what we want is often befuddled by expectations of what we are supposed to want and not want, which often conflict.  For those of us who feel this, the time it takes to figure out what is genuinely desired and how to be honest about it with ourselves and our partners... that's a lot!  And that's the beauty of explicitly asking and taking the time to agree -it gives us time to figure out what we want.  We do not have to answer the question right away.  We can think about it because asking the question leaves us with the latitude to create an answer.  For those of us whose wants and desires conflict, we need that time to reconcile these differences.

This means enemy of consent is going too quickly.  Betty Martin advises us to slow down by half at least, and then half again if needed.  Additional time, allows us to feel more fully what is true for us in any given moment, and to build the resolve to name it or ask for change.

Does that mean we have to give up the fantasy of a frenzied fuck?  No!  Because we can agree to have fast, sloppy, button-popping sex ahead of time.  We just have to agree what we're going to do.

When we understand that we are agreeing on what to do together, we leave behind wishy-washy notions of "well, it is okay with me" and "I didn't mind".  After all, who wants to have sex with someone who "didn't mind"?



*Name changed
**Until taking Betty Martin's Like A Pro workshop

Holiday Lament of a Customer Service Agent

'Twas an hour before closing, and all through the shop
were vibrators and dildos piled up to the top.
Products were displayed to encourage sex drive,
with hope that some customers soon would arrive.

I, with my box cutter and things to receive,
had plenty to do, things to achieve.

Ding-Dong went the bell, our door opening sound
to warn that an imminent customer was 'round.
"Welcome!" said I, in my most friendly way,
itching to make the biggest sale of the day.

He looked 'round a while, then resettled his cap,
and bustled his way o'er to me at cash/wrap.
"Hello there" he boomed, while eying a price,
"I say, could I ask you a bit of advice?"

"Of course!" I responded, quite eager to please,
though not knowing the question, I'd no guarantees.

"It's my wife!" he exploded, "She's gon' through the change.
She used to be normal but now she is strange.
I married a hot little ticket like you,
but religious and repressed, she had not a clue.

I took her on as my protegée,
with groups and meetings, I got my way.
We had wonderful sex, but not anymore.
It's as though she now thinks of sex as a chore.
You know, you get married and have a whole lot of fun,
having sex left and right, but only when young!
Now I realize that marriage is a lie and a trap.
Having sex later on is huge load of crap!

He went on explaining how awful it was
to have sex so seldom, as "the menopause" does.

"What's that thing that they need?  Sounds like engine?"
I supplied "Estrogen*", not knowing where to begin.
"Yeah, that!" he erupted.  "Do they make it in powder?
I could spike what she eats!" he said even louder.
"She wouldn't know why, but she'd want sex all the time!
Not every few months.  That'd sure be sublime."

He went on a while about his frustration,
his lot in life and great woe of his station.
I counseled myself, as he gibbered and prattled,
as dissonance inside me started a battle.
Drugging someone for sex has such distaste,
but he couldn't leave the store feeling debased.

Consulting my merits, I named them at length:
"On clarity and kindness, now saavy and strength!"
This was a prayer that I sent overhead,
to myself, or a God, either way, I then said:

"That you get by prescription, so your time'd be misspent.
Because of cancer,** you'd want her consent.
For her, you might look into good lubrication.
And envision yourself using fun masturbation.

We have some toys that might be appealing to you
since it's normal to need some excitement in lieu
of intercourse that may not be in your wife's range,
which is normal while all of her sex hormones change."

Excited at the prospect of a toy of his own,
he thanked me for the great understanding I'd shown.
He left on a high note (he bought not a thing),
highlighting his exit, my un-proffered hand he did wring.

"What a great store this is!  I'll be back with my wife!
I'm sure, if you talk, you can help with her strife."
This he yelled through the door, with the lights burning bright,
"I'm so glad I came in!  And to you a good-night!"


*Estrogen is not the only hormone that is in play with menopause.  He didn't know this.
** Hormone replacement therapy can raise the likelihood that someone may get cancer.

Past Over Hard

I am weary.  The sort of weary one might be after taking the SATs, GREs, MCAT then LSAT all in the same 24 hours.  The kind of weary that Frodo and Sam look as they leave Mordor.  This is the end of my two week trip to try, in vain, to finish clearing out my late mother's house.

I have eaten lobster that I can not get at home.  I have had a break spent at my favorite retreat with cherished people.  There's been dinner with Robin*, and a visit from my partner in VT.

I have listened for days on end to my loved god-mother's health issues.  I have talked to my sister about a faster process, but we're still doing the same slow method.  I have sciatic pain, shoulder pain and neck pain.  I have run out of money, gotten more, run out again, and have eaten the same Chinese leftovers for four days straight.  I have slept on the couch of my god parents, in one hotel, then another, then another.  I have had a combined total of 40 minutes of alone time in the past weeks.  I have found not only a folded piece of paper with $179 in it, but also my mother's bag of adult items plus naked pictures of her with the family dog. 

I am ready to go home.

* * * * * * *

I arrive later than desired at my hotel by the airport.  It's 7:30 and although I consider going to bed right away, it's still light out and I decide it might be nice to do something.  Robin has been texting to see if we can get together again before I leave, so I tell her to come by.

"Take me somewhere with alcohol or ice cream" I instruct her when she arrives; "I don't care which."

After ice cream, we sit in the parking lot of my hotel.  I've asked to be dropped off.  She is persistent.  We go inside together.

Two different agendas, and had I realized, had I given it more import ... well... maybe I would, maybe she would not, maybe maybe.

She worries if I want her there	I worry that I've made the wrong decision
I try to do what I want	She tries to do what she wants
I don't want that	She wants to know if it's her body
I say no, please don't	She is ashamed of how she looks
I offer alternatives	She tries again, in a different way
I realize...	She wants...
I tell her I won't let her use me like that	She is horrified
I am afraid and sad and want to protect her	She leaves

People see issues of assault, rape and violence in black and white.  We break it down that way to make judgment easier.  It is not wrong, there are things that are black and white.  But in the world of actions, it can be fuzzy, confused, distressing and wrought with messages softer than necessary because we care for her, and harder than necessary because we are selfish.  There are lines of difference between saying, showing, coercing, pushing.  There can be shades of confusion in how we say no, I don't want that, I'm scared.

It doesn't take much to retrigger old wounds.  Trauma, whether recognized or not, comes back to claim us.  I am seeing this scene over and over.  Intellectual chewing gum. I try to figure out where I went wrong, what I should have done, why did it happen?  It's not helpful.

I wish, it hadn't been like that
	I wish we hadn't assumed the wrong things
I wish I had been more clear
	I wish she had heard
I wish she had been able to explain
	I wish I had understood
It's not your fault
	It's not mine either

I lay and a tear, hot with chemicals, rolls and drops into my left ear.  We have to move.  We just have to keep moving.  I am weary.



* Name changed as usual.  Robin and I met in March 2013, had a fun time at an event where neither of us knew many people and shared some kissing at the end of the evening.

Park Particulars

Since getting our dog, we've become regulars at the dog park.  I mean, we practically live there.  The dog goes at least once a day, twice on the weekends, plus we check out other dog parks in between.  And there seems to be no place better to see creepitude played out than where everyone is projecting it onto their animal.

Case in point: humping.  The dog park's third favorite activity (preceded by sniffing and peeing).  Oh how uncomfortable people are with dogs humping each other!

Of course, there's been real research into how dogs live, what they communicate and what their goals are.  Knowing that in any research, we're presupposing our own anthropomorphic ideas by the nature of asking the question, it doesn't surprise me that many dog park goers bypass animal research and just do their own anthropomorphizing.

In other words, people make up reasons for what their dogs are doing based on what would be true if the dogs were human.

Two days ago, our dog was playing with a dog a bit smaller than him.  The other dog's agenda: hump, hump more.  He would have humped our dog all day except his owners were sooper uncomfortable.  "No!" his female owner screamed, grabbing the dog and smacking him hard on the butt.  Then she laughed, hugged the dog, and smacked him in the face, giving the dog a cement-like mixed signal.

::Sidenote:: I think it's fine if someone wants to teach their dog not to hump.  We try to teach ours not to bark while playing.  Scares people, you know?  But hitting a dog is 1. not affective and 2. abuse. 

We think we know from research, that humping (since there weren't any dogs in heat) is about dominance.  I'd like to say that people are uncomfortable with displays of dominance, but I know that's not true.  Just look at our media.  People revel in displays of dominance.  Potentially, folks are upset about displays of homosexuality, but I rather doubt this too.  When someone notices their dog mounting a dog of the same sex, they laugh nervously and pull their dog off describing it as "a big homo", which means that they see humping behavior as sexual.  I think it's discomfort with sex (and perceived discomfort) that is behind the issues with humping.

This hang up, when applied to animals is silly.*  When our dog doesn't want to be humped, he runs out from under the other dog.  Or he sits down.  Sometimes he rolls over and kicks his foot into the crotch of the other dog.  Voila!  When this discomfort gets applied in real life, we end up with ridiculous decisions being made about access like this: CNM Chronical Suspended.

******

Here's something else that mirrors human life too much at the dog park: people who feel entitled to touch dogs, regardless of what the dog appears to want.

We got our dog as a rescue.  We know little about his past, but symptomatically it's clear that he has a hard time with some people, especially men.  We sometimes joke with strangers that he "barks first and asks questions later" when we want to soothe ruffled feelings.  We call him away from the strangers at whom he barks; no need to have people fearing they're going to be a late afternoon doggy snack.

Despite how clear our dog is in how he feels about certain people, they reach down to touch him anyway.  I'm not talking about letting him sniff a hand, or similar "make nice" gestures.  I'm talking about "I am going to pet you, and I'm ignoring your clear signals that it's not okay".  Some people literally chase our dog so that they can touch him.

Really, folks?  Really?  I know how this feels, do you?  In this past week alone a customer touched me inappropriately, I was kissed on the head by someone I don't really know when I refused to accept his advances of a hug and a friend pulled me into a hug that I would have been fine with if I'd been asked first.

To our dog's credit, when those people succeed in touching him, he only shies away and barks some more.  He's never bitten anyone as far as we know, and although I'd like to bite the people who do this to him, it's good he doesn't.

The dog park is a microcosm of little creepy things we do as humans.  It's ignoring your dog so you can honestly say you never saw her take a poo (as validation for why you didn't scoop it).  It's smacking your dog to discipline him.  It's also telling your dog a command and then permissively ignoring when he doesn't do as you say, laughingly saying that "he doesn't feel like it".  All these things that indicate that as a culture we are people who don't want to take responsibility, and we believe in violence to solve problems, that we take what we want and don't bother to think about the impact.


*Please note that this would be a different matter if the dog showed signs of not being able to stand up for himself.  Of course then we'd be interpreting his behavior, which leads to oddness.  Let's say, if this was a human, it'd be different.  But that's the point, we don't need to posit our human discomfort with sex on a dog act that probably isn't sexual.

When to Give Up

My sister is searching for a husband.  It keeps not working out because she keeps getting with men who are creepy.  Her newest non-marriage-material man is creepy in that he won't hear her tell him that they are not going to get married.  In other words, she said "no" and he doesn't believe her.

Last night he wrote me this note:*

hi chutzpahgrrl,

this is joe schmoe**.

i want to talk to you, if possible.

i have questions for you about someone that we both care about, your sister. 

please keep this between us for now.  when you hear what i have to say, you will understand.

thanks

joe
### ### ####

Oh what I wanted to say to him!  Or not say... or maybe I wanted to kick him.  

This guy is seriously out of line.  First, he should not be giving my sister a hard time.  Yes, I disagree with her that she is still talking with him, but she's said no, and remember -no means no.  Second, my only context with him was talking on a three-way video chat so that I could check him for bugs for my sister.  That's how he has my email address.  I feel that isn't enough consensual contact for him to email me out of the blue to ask for help in his relationship with my sister, unless possibly things were super awesome and he wants to know her favorite color so he can get her flowers.

I considered not responding at all.  I also considered telling him what he's doing wrong (harassing my sister) and telling him how to do it right ("I'm _______ that we won't be getting married.  I hope that you find what you're looking for because I care about you.")  How much energy do I want to spend on this?  Is it worth it?  In the end, I almost always decide to reply in some way that I hope will show the person insight into my thinking, but not so much that I sound preachy or overly condescending.  And I also try to strike a balance between being a jerk and being too soft.  I want things crystal clear without being mean.

Here's my response:

Hi Joe,

I would not like to talk. 

I feel it's inappropriate for me to be involved in a situation between you and my sister when my sister has no knowledge of it.  I find it creepy that you asked me to keep your message a secret.  I feel manipulated that you've drawn a likeness between us because I care about my sister.

Food for thought: it's a serious issue when someone says "no" and isn't believed or is coerced into changing his or her mind.

The best response he could have given me at this point would have been no response.  I guess I didn't say "I don't want to have a conversation about this" but I think saying I don't want to talk, is quite similar.  If he'd sent a message saying "Okay, that's cool" or similar, I would have been okay.  Instead he wrote back an assenting note, then a defensive note, then another note. 

Assent (also pouty):

I know. I know for sure what you are saying. And any such creepiness could be read into such a conversation without serious consideration of what I might say.

Ok so forget it.  I' ll deal with things from my little corner if the world.

There are no pure motives in this life...other than very basic.

There is more than a little paranoia in our relationship so I would ask you not to mention this regardless of the fact that we won't be speaking in depth. 
We are still talking...

And lastly I will say that I do want your sister to be very happy no matter what she chooses.

And you should be blessed and do well, too.

This is what I just read: you didn't think what I have to say is worth it to you to listen!  Fine!  I'll do it all on my own.  Sure, maybe there were some ulterior motives in my request.  OMG!  Don't tell your sister!  Be well (sorta').

Defense:

We have no third party mentors or any other community between us so try and take it easy on me, ok?

I wrote to you both with selfish and unselfish motives.

I would not expect you to come from any place other than care for your sister.
Life is not a game and relationships are not easy, certainly not when they are truly fulfilling.

Your sister and I are still talking and planning to visit some time in the future.
Nothing mean or disrepectful ever passed between us so, yeah, we have hit our obligatory road bumps as a couple and they aren't easy.

Please play it cool and don't throw gas on the fire, stirring things up by telling her I contacted you.

I wanted to talk to you about emotional damage that affects how people relate...
Let's not then.

The situation as I have observed it is neither extremely bad nor is it ignore-able.  So we will just continue to deal.

I sincerely care about your sister and if circumstances develop in a positive direction, I look forward to spending time getting to know you better, too.

Peace out
joe

What I heard: Hey, I feel hurt by some things you said.  I'm not all bad.  I'm still going to get with your sister.  Woo!  It hurts that you didn't think what I have to say is worth listening to.  OMFG! Don't tell your sister about this!!!!  I'll still be your friend (maybe...).
 
Another:
Additionally, lastly, I will say this in defense/explanation of my attempt to talk to you.
Abusers seek to isolate people from communications, not to engage in communication.
That's all folks!

In my head: congratulations, Joe, you are not abusing me.  I am aware of this.  Also, abusers come in different shapes and sizes.  Also, keeping contact between us a secret is about isolation of my sister.  I mean, doing something you know wouldn't be okay with her is antithetical to trying to make her want to marry you.

Here's the thing, if he hadn't been so adamant about not telling my sister, I might have forgotten until the next time I spoke with her, which really could have been over a week or more.  I found myself thinking that there might be a very good reason my sister should know because he was so insistent.  So I called and said "You're not getting back together with Joe, right?  Okay, because he's contacted me and asked me not to tell."  Jerk?  Yeah, I'm sure I am to him.  But you can barely share a secret with someone and expect them to keep it, especially from someone with whom they're very close.

I can't say for sure how Joe specifically got the notion that pushing when someone says no is the right thing to do.  Certainly we see a lot of permissive parenting in the world.  Maybe he did get ice cream after someone said "no" initially.

There are certainly a lot of examples that suggest that romance seekers (or sex seekers) should keep pushing and eventually s/he will realize how perfect you are.  Aren't most romantic comedies like that?  These are really poor messages to be feeding to people.  We've all been the one spurned, and these stories are mostly fantasies built to help us, the undesired, feel better.  The cost of these tactics is that they supersede things that actually help us respect people we say we care about.

*I have debated for years if it is ethical to use someone else's words, verbatim, when describing how I dislike their actions.  I've decided that as long as I don't say who it is, and most people won't know by context, it's acceptable.

**Obviously I changed names again.

Pride and Consent

It's Gay Pride!  A time to be all colors, come out (no pun intended) to be who you really are sans shame, remorse, regret.  People show their fabulosity to the extreme, bringing out their best self, and talk about love as an encompassing, open to all concept!

I idealize Gay Pride.  Truly, there's more of the American cultural norm at Pride than I'd like to admit.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It's Friday, and I'm at work.  Bonney* and I are talking about working the store's booth at the Pride Festival and appropriate dress for the occasion.  I relate that I had this conversation with Bear* and we'd agreed that wearing a rainbow bikini top would be appropriate, except I don't have one.  Bonney responds "Oh, well if you wanted to wear those rainbow pasties at Pride, the store could comp them to you."  Sweet.


Now it's the morning of Pride, and I'm trying to get my fabulous on.  I've read the directions on the back of the pasties package, applied them thusly, donned my short shorts with my silver belt and I'm just working on my eye make-up.

There's a knock on the door.  I've been waiting for my friend to arrive; and although I'm surprised she's knocking, I go and answer the door.

...Pasties at the ready, I'm certain the Jehovah's Witnesses at the door did not expect what they got from me!  I didn't expect them either.


Working at Pride Festival was an experience in staying on track.  I didn't expect the sort of attention my nearly-bare breasts attracted.  I suppose that's silly, but I'm used to and comfortable being undressed.  It barely occurs to me that it's different for others to witness.

When the first person asked if he could take my picture, I was surprised.  Why me?  It took me a moment to realize that what I was doing, is part of what people come to Pride to see and experience.  I was fine with that picture; and the picture after that too.  But after a while, I started feeling put out.

I was busy and kept getting interrupted.  I noticed myself, not looking into the camera while a picture was taken.  I was keeping an eye on my next move, our wares, our customers, and trying to be polite and efficient with those wanting photos.  When I went on break, I was concerned that I wouldn't make it to the HIV testing tent (where I have my yearly test) because of the photograph requests.  (Happily I made it, was the very last test of the day, and met someone I hope will contribute to this blog.)

The attention I received that day came in three main categories: people who wanted a picture, people who wanted to tell me something because of what I wasn't wearing, and people who hit on me.  Several people wanted to commend my bravery, which was really in their own heads because you kinda' need to be afraid of something if you're going to be brave doing it.  One woman came on quite strong talking about how I am way too pretty to not have a girlfriend (she was assuming I don't).  I appreciated her directness and also wasn't interested.  One guy was clearly attracted to me but lacked social skills to be appropriate.  He hung around, and returned over and over, bending over the table running hands over his head and staring at me.  Despite some of these sorts of exceptions, most of the attention was positive to neutral.

Two exceptions stand out.  The first was being censored by a police officer.  I don't actually know what the law here says about dress.  I had assumed that wearing something to cover the nipples for women was street legal.  I didn't argue with the officer, I asked if I was mistaken about the law.  She didn't say, which suggests she doesn't know the law either, she only said it was a "family event" so I needed to cover up.  So, maybe the law is different when there might be minors in attendance?  I pointed out to her that those kids are going to have breasts someday too (at least half of them).  She wasn't impressed.

I was pissed.  I wasn't being inappropriate with kids; I wasn't jiggling my breasts in any faces -kids or otherwise.  Kids should get to know what bodies look like in non-sexual ways.  And many of these kids used breasts as a food dispenser early on.

I felt she was telling me that there was something inherently wrong with or shameful about my body.  That they shouldn't be seen, because they're offensive.  And this is a tough call because there are plenty of times I don't want to see someone's body.  I don't want to see the body of someone I don't know when there's any air of sexual request.  And also sometimes when I do know them.  That kind of situation happens often, and it's also really hard to legislate because it's about the energy of intent.

I can say that I didn't have that energy of request at Pride, but did people read it anyway?  Did the people who saw me that day, consent to seeing as much of me as they did?  Is it likely enough at Pride that one will see those sorts of body parts, to assume everyone knows that -and thus by coming out, they have given informed consent?

The other experience of note was when several women stopped by wanting a picture with me.  They didn't want to take my picture inside the booth where I was trying to work.  So, I stepped out hoping they'd be quick.  One of them asked me if she could touch my breast.  I was impressed, being as how a woman earlier had assumed she could grab me and surprised the crap out of me doing so.

I said no to this woman.  She pouted but contented herself with putting her hand below my breast in an imitation of touch.  The other woman who wanted to be in that picture, was disgusted.  She huffed and sputtered and whirled around to her picture taking friend and I heard something about how touch was naturally being offered because my breasts were visible.  A picture was taken.  I stepped behind the booth again.  The friend of the aggrieved woman ran back and shouted at me "Your titties are saggy!!!"

She wasn't trying to be funny; she was upset and trying to hurt me.  I fail to understand how someone can be so upset that they don't get to touch my breasts when the extent of our relationship has been seeing me and asking "hey, can we take a picture of you?"

Lack of understanding around consent and individual rights to one's own body is disturbing.  Seeing that lack of understanding in women, disturbs me especially. There's a certain assumption that women will understand this issue, and it is proven to me time and again, that this isn't true.  The messages she's swallowed about behavior and power make her dangerous to herself and others.  And particularly, she's probably not a friend or mother or daughter someone could go to when assaulted and get support.  This is someone who thinks that what you wear matters, that it dictates the choices of other people who are apparently brainless automatons incapable of self awareness.  Here's a nice, concise way someone else put this issue:
http://survivingtheworld.net/Lesson1238.html

Consent is a bigger issue than most of us like to think about.  It's not about rape and sexual assault, that's where you see it addressed most.  Consent is everyday.  And it takes a beating in so many ways so often, we're inured to it.

How about the online form for opening a bank account that required your phone number and then told you that, when you gave it, you're consenting to have them call you or text you whenever they want regardless of cost to you?  That's called coercion, and it goes hand in hand with consent violations.  What about the exuberant dog someone was walking while you took your morning constitutional, and they allowed it to jump on you and drool excessively?

We don't dicker on these things.  We're not personally offended, or we don't know how to make a complaint, or the violation or threat thereof is minor.  But if we take the time to think on it, could we make boundaries easier for others and ourselves?

What about those Jehovah's Witnesses?  Did they consent to seeing that much of me?  It's the dream of many to do something funny, ironic or rude to those who bother us at our homes.  And this is often justified by pointing out that "they started it!"  For instance, one might say that I didn't consent to have them proselytize me.  And therefore, my possibly shocking appearance to them is justified.  Tit for tat (until the whole world is blind), to mix quotations.

I don't mean to lessen the seriousness of consent violations with examples that ring less personal.  But by becoming aware every day of small ways we feel uncomfortable with being pushed, forced, coerced and bullied, we more easily identify the feelings associated with consent violations.  It scares me that violence between people is so veiled.  In a recent study in Britain, of girls 13-18, more than half of them have experienced sexual violence at the hands of a partner and thought it was normal!  I think the scope of this study was too small to make generalizations.  However, this seriously rings true for me in my life and of women I have known.

Let's be clear, violence between people is a problem, seeing it as normal is a problem, and not understanding basic tenets of consent is a problem.  Let's do our homework and become aware, if not for your sake, then for someone you love.


* Names changed as usual