The Privilege of an Orientation

I had the opportunity to visit a few of my favorite intentional communities in the week leading up to New Years Day: Compersia in Washington DC, and Twin Oaks and Cambia (with visits from Acorn residents) in Virginia. I enjoyed museum visits, miles and miles of tandem bike riding, I helped set up a hillbilly hot tub in the mud, rain, and cold New Year’s Eve day, enjoyed a fabulous New Years Eve Party, saw old friends and made new ones, drank at a literal “speakeasy mini bar” (think puppet sized craft cocktails down a cellar crawl-hole accessible only by password), and I had the opportunity to teach a couple of my favorite workshops to top it all off. I joyfully led “Gender Exploration” and “Play Piercing/Needle Play” classes. It was a perfect week to top off 2018 and move into 2019!

I enjoy bringing my workshops to intentional community groups. There’s a level of engagement I find in these spaces that’s different elsewhere. I like the often multi-generational representation within my audience and a wider set of opinions populating these spaces. This leads to layered conversations which are less common when I teach groups outside of community.

Engaging in these experiences offers me questioning. I question my own perspective and it gives me the opportunity to examine my curriculum from new vantage points. This time around was no different. Both workshops were different and wonderful in their own ways. The class I taught about sex and gender brought up conversations which helped me tie together some of the ideas within my own curriculum that I had yet to articulate as clearly as I was able to that day.

When I was young there hung a bumper sticker in my house: Question Authority. Not only is it good form to practice being the questioner, it helps one’s authorities better examine their own functionality.

When I teach about sex, gender, and identity I start by distinguishing between and defining sex characteristics (phenotypic, chromosomal, gonad development, hormone levels, and sexed brain development) versus gender identities (cis, trans, nonbinary, a-gender, etc…). We talk about identity as an emerging process, a changeable journey, and get into the differences between how we’re identified by others and how we identify ourselves. We also explore the differences between identity, orientation, behavior, and coping mechanisms. During this workshop I was able to speak to two concepts I’ve been speaking around-about for a while but had been unable to articulate to my satisfaction. What I came away with were the concepts that “sexual orientation is a privilege” and that “our obsession with other people’s genitals is absolutely a socially accepted (and generally non-consensually approached) fetish”. Today I’m writing about the first of these statements, you can read this blog about the second.

Sexual orientation is a privilege: I found myself making this claim during workshop discussion, and realized I absolutely believe it in numerous ways. Socially we’ve moved past the point of arguing that one has no control over who they are attracted to. That argument was helpful in the past to legitimize the minority status of those in LGBT communities. Now there’s pretty broad acceptance and scientific data supporting the notion that we’re not 100% “in control” of who we find attractive. Sexual chemistry is absolutely a condition of nature in combination with nurture.

It’s generally accepted that it’s as natural for a person to play with genitals that look like “a” as it is to play with ones that look like “b”, or “c”, and so on. When we speak of sexual orientation we’re talking about a complex list of factors influenced by public and private definitions, enacted behaviors, and a desire to control our own personal branding. For instance, a woman who is in a “monogamous” relationship with another woman may consider it not to be a breach of their monogamy to have occasional sexual interactions with men. This person’s behavior is that of a bisexual/pansexual person, though they retain their public identity as homosexual/lesbian based on their definitions of “which sexual behaviors count”. It’s that person’s privilege to identify outside of behavioral definitions in order to maintain the lifestyle or relationships she wishes to preserve.

Peering at identity on a larger scale, it’s dangerous for many people to publicly identify within sexual minority terms. Only those people who have the support, safety, or fortitude to voice their sexual desires, intrigues, and behaviors are entitled to an accurate and public sexual orientation. This privilege may be placed even further from reach when someone is part of multiple marginalized cultures or communities. That person may be less apt to claim their sexual behaviors and desires as an inherent part of their identity—one worth fighting for and claiming publicly—in order to remain safe or sufficiently supported within their communal circles.

On the other side of that coin, outside of marginalized communities, let’s look at the privileged people in this patriarchal culture. The sheer number of men who engage in brojobs, who are on the down low, or who lie about their history of same sex experiences is phenomenal. If a man identifies as straight and is on Grindr looking for hook-ups regularly, there’s something going on there that’s not simply about orientation. It could be about conformity and fear, but perhaps it’s also about maintenance of social privilege and the desire not to lose such. To hold onto one’s orientation as “straight” (privileged) regardless of the practice of taking on multi-sexed partners points to, in my mind, a maintenance of privilege over positively addressing the normalcy of variation within human sexuality for all.

If you are nonbinary identified, what does it even mean to be heterosexual or homosexual? As we move further into social acceptance and visibility of trans and intersex people, we must start asking ourselves how attached we are to our own identities in the face of partners who don’t fit sex or gender definitions we’ve used in the past.

It seems to me that the sexual orientation definitions we use frequently serve to maintain privilege and/or marginalize others. We have further to go in order to disengage the black and white binary thinking which bullies a person to be “in” or “out”. My hope is that as the lines which equate male with masculinity and female with femininity blur, that we will all become more free to explore, embrace, play, and fear less the urges and negotiations which bring us pleasure and joy.

I hope your year is going well thus far. I’m excited to engage in more writing, more teaching, more art, and more collaboration in 2019. Please consider supporting my writing and other artistic projects through my Patreon campaign.

Play On My Friends,
~ Creature

This writing takes time, research, and consideration. It is my art.
Please visit my Patreon, offer one time Support or email me for other options. Thank you.

The March of Days

Photo by Mélissa Kooyomjian Kemp (@CapturedExposure on instagram). I am performing as “Sirius Black”.

A Thing That Left-Handed People Do.

By Creature Karin Webb

Every day there is a thing that left-handed people do
That women and intersex people also do
That trans and nonbinary people do
That LGB and Aces do
That People of Color do
Immigrants/ex-pats do it too
Foriegners, non-english speakers, and tourists do
That by definition the artists do
There is a thing that kinksters do
And people with disabilities do
That those with a history of sexual assault do
That environmentalists and naturalists do
Radicals do it
Non-christians in this country do
And poor people do it too.

Each day left-handed people translate
The world around us
Into other-sided actions and movements.
We edit instructions
Foolproof plans, and
Jury-rig instruments of use
For our survival.
We do this in order to move through the paths organized by society,
Because divergences have been dis-included
From inception.
Us sinister sorts carry within our minds a hidden mirror
With which to reflect upon instructions
Make sense of structural designs
Not intended for our gifted bodies.
From these translations
Calculations, and
Creative recipes to overcome the traps,
The dangerous reality of moving through space with the wrong foot forward,
Is built an expanded repertoire
Thicker dictionary of understanding
A fattened Grimoire
Authored by the perverts of society.

What we don’t do well is speak of our translations.
So used to the daily practice of counter articulation,
And underground arithmetic for momentum,
We take our inner maths for granted young
Proof pages slipping away silent and unseen.

I do not know the equations of a woman whose skin is dark as soil,
Nor the immigrant’s path and plight
I’m unfamiliar with a Buddhist’s workarounds, or
Those of the boy bound to a mechanized chair.
I’m sure there are crossovers in our notes—
Equations we each work and rework to similar and differing ends.
Still, each of our fun-house mirrored minds
Reveal paths which are hidden to others
On our journeys through to the end.

I think
What is Magic
If not the translation of my desire into steps that can make it so
Against the odds of design?
What is Magic
If not my very survival
In the face of domineering organisms
Suited up in structural normalcy
Armed and organized to erase me?
What is Magic
If not One’s Nature against a system of oppressors
Who would sleep easier
Should marginalized definitions be scattered to the wind
Walled away
Buried deep
Forgotten
Like our bodies?

Dominance as a paradigm is a thing to fear,
A sickness some host in spades
And others yearn for in their ignorance.
Comfort, a parasite,
Masticates its way through vibrant and creative unconscious
Rendering the mind a wasteland of right and wrong,
Black and white,
Right or left,
Mal de tête du moins conscient,
A brain left blind
To multiverse realities around and in between.

Social ease inoculates
Against knowledge of The Ways
Practiced by a wholly connected and
Diversely fluent
Nature.

Play On My Friends,
~ Creature

This writing takes time, research, and consideration. It is my art.
Please visit my Patreon, offer one time Support or email me for other options. Thank you.

To Bloom Upon a Vine

Photo by Yellow.Cat

Should consciousness be proclaimed the penalty for living a human life, I was born a believer.

On a macro level I am not happy. Articulating such things feels like screaming into a darkness, which will reach into my open mouth and consume me. I don’t know what needs to change, where to go, nor what to do. My hopes feel like an illness to me. I need to stop being what I am not, though I know no true place in this world for one who gets up everyday to think, research, and make art.

I realize I’ve been too close with my heart. I’ve been cocooning. Funny how the oncoming Winter should be the time I awaken to this dead limb of mine, instead of noting its unresponsive weight in the high of summer. I’m not sure what to do about it. It’s not as simple as cutting.

To approach those who bring me joy is a risk. I’ve been closed off to it for a while. I’m controlling of my environment, unwilling to move past these four walls, afraid to enjoy anyone lest they come with a price tag I am too poor to pay. Understandably my world has gotten smaller.

It’s not that I haven’t reached out here and again, tried to get closer with this person or another, tried to pick up old friendships within my new parameters of distance and circumstance. I’ve been heavy-hearted more than once, scratched my head when connection hasn’t come easy or declined to spark a flame. Throughout my stab at exchange though, I’ve been keeping my room too tidy. I help others organize their complex messes and knots, teasing my fellows’ human tangles out. I’ve made myself smaller, ignored my own needing. I’m feeling less dimensional.

In some ways, this makes sense. I am not the same person I was 20, 10, even 5 years ago; I’m not considering the same equations. I’ve traveled far, and wandered through circumstances many will never quite connect with me about, nor understand. I’m getting older, and with age comes new perspective and interests. I can’t expect to bring all of my friends with me.

Even in art. For most of my career I’ve performed many varied characters consistently, gender-bending my stage time away. I burlesqued and strutted my body before the audience, allowing them to see an unashamed, glorious, rouged-and-costumed version of me. I was confident on the outside, larger than my quiet insides. I had good and many friends with whom I shared this form of play. It’s a different journey I’m on these days. I’m transitioning my actual self, which replaces the place of my characters—those spirits I spent my first 40 years slipping into and out of again. I’m grateful for the years I had, flitting in and out of the bodies I could do something with for a moment. Character work allowed me minutes of release into something unnamed in my personal within, something I didn’t know how to claim more openly. Persona.

Current changes amount to a steadying internal strength—sweet and strange in melody. The ground I stand on these days is mostly without stage lights or an audience to explain my raison d’être. I’m quietly picking my way from the glorious, stage-painted outside to a joyful inside: complex, and dark at times. I am enacting a deeper, more vulnerable, discovery. Person.

Of course the art I make has shifted. I’ve always asked my audience to interact with me, share in play, and make grand gestures toward liberation. Recently I want our connection smaller and more intimate. Audiences are often comprised of one person, and these conspirators clap more quietly in a more personal way—still onward toward liberation.

I’ve been keeping my nose too clean (in truth, a concern I’ve had my whole life). I’m worried I don’t know how to make a proper mess any longer, to find the things that are bigger than my body and throw them about the room effectively. Can anyone see the subtle medium I am exploring? As I open up and agitate within the personal arena responsibly, how do I package this artistic state?

Perhaps I fear true intimacy. I thrive in deep moments with individuals (I suspect many of you know this). However, intimacy which extends beyond a minute, an hour, a scattering of days, I do not know what that creature might be. Do I want it?

In my youth I loved love, and the fairy tale of eternal relationships were unquestioned as my heart embraced this lover and the next, in full belief of forever. Years passed, and older, I started pulling away from the stories. I better understood others’ struggle with connectivity. I learned the people I loved were not always just like me, and gained a better feel for compatibility. I stood up for myself when the going was rough, and became a better (maybe just differently coping) version of myself. My heart still held on, but with boundaries and edges that had not been as cutting before. Love had a distance.

Lately my heart enjoys strings unattached—I might say I emphatically cut strings which try to tie me down (with very few exceptions). I do not want a fairy tale. I do not want a negotiated push and pull, bringing forth the inevitable self-repression I excel at, nor to do work when I don’t feel my companion busying themselves equally in the endeavor with me.

Clients are wonderful, yet I don’t only want clients. This form of relationship has taught me how beautiful mutual respect, observed boundaries, and actual value in exchange for my time and attention can be, and I’m grateful. I thank my subs and cohorts for being good people with priorities and privileges who effort to appreciate and feed my loving. It’s been defining, healing, and I’ve learned many, many things.

My Primary has always been my creative mind; I don’t know that this will ever change. I want to love people and be loved. I don’t want to be coerced, or for expectation to creep up the sides of my body and crowd my space. While I welcome critique, I won’t tolerate challenge to my being. I desire appreciation for the things I am, and think my love, my support, my heart, my mind, and my body are worth this.

I want to move forward fearlessly and without the mask of my characters emboldening me. I want to re-find my path in the great experiment called life, on terms which are mine. I desperately wish to survive this life gracefully, gaining wealth from my efforts (with additional to share). I want to coexist, teach, love, and learn from the place where I stand—to bloom—and I want (with less struggle of conscience) to lovingly, and loved, be.

Play On My Friends,
~ Creature

This writing takes time, research, and consideration. It is my art.
Please visit my Patreon, offer one time Support or email me for other options. Thank you.

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