Love don’t get deeper than a mother and child

The heteronormative assumptions the rest of the world makes about everything are really depressing.

“For men and women, or the other way around” (women and men, that is) is supposed to be all-inclusive. Love is so much more beautifully varied than that! And I usually end up just taking the hetero bullshit and trying to find bits and pieces I can relate to, because there’s very very very very little out there that looks like me.

It’s not difficult to look around and see stuff that is clearly “role play” in the form of “Daddy’s Little Girl.” It’s a power exchange dynamic, one that benefits from social assumptions about gender roles and power. A guy in charge, a woman underneath him. I mean, what’s an insult you throw at a guy to highlight his supposed lack of masculinity? “Momma’s Boy.”

What about the gay men? For a long time I figured that George Michael song was supposed to be about men on men, because I had only heard “Father Figure” in the context of guys who like guys. Then I saw the music video (it’s kinda creepy, but then lots of creepy shit gets romanticized…)

What about the men who don’t have any problem with “women on top”? I’m thinking about a lot of the reading that I did for a while, blogs about dominant women and submissive men and shattering stereotypes of all sorts. I’m thinking of people like “Stabbity” at Not Just Bitchy or “Professor Chaos” of Lab Coats and Lingerie — I honestly read more for the perspective of loving, dominant women, and often did plenty of the same kinds of “find what bits I can relate to” as with most hetero stuff, but I DID relate to plenty there.

What about women like me, who want to find themselves safe in the arms of a mommy? You won’t find dozens of blogs dedicated to Mommy/Little Girl relationships, the way you’ll find ones about Daddy/Little Girl couples. But then, you also won’t find “I ❤ My Girlfriend” sparkly pink shirts and undies and everything else in most clothing stores, not the way that it’s simple to find a wide selection of incredibly femme “Best Boyfriend Ever” products.

And what about all the people who don’t fall into a ridiculously rigid binary classification of “boy or girl?” They are even less visible, less acknowledged than everyone else. What do they model their relationships on? Where do they get any voice in things?

I could also mention just how disgustingly white the Daddy/Girl stuff is, how overwhelmingly lacking most of the memes are in racial diversity… unless, of course, it’s to regurgitate racist tropes and hold up bigotry as somehow “beautiful” — but really, I’m not the one who should be tackling that topic.

I’m just… sad, I guess is the word, I’m sad at how invisible I feel, at how little the world seems to care about a small and off-the-beaten-path voice like mine. Seeing yourself in stories outside your own head, seeing reflections of yourself, knowing you’re not a monster… it’s important. Critical, even. I don’t see myself very often.

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If it makes you happy, it can’t be that bad.

I find it interesting how many people I hear talking about their sexuality and sexual interests, the way they describe things that turn them on as “dirty” and “freaky” and “nasty” and “perverted.”

As far as I can see, the fact that the things that arouse them are not “mainstream” — or at least are not openly acknowledged as normative — is a significant part of the appeal for a lot of people.  That they feel they are being transgressive is much of the point, and the source of most of the erotic value in these acts.

But it doesn’t make any sense to me.  I mean, sure, I can acknowledge it on an intellectual level, but I don’t understand.  I personally am turned on by a whole lot of things that are not particularly “standard,” by things which are certainly not the socially accepted, normative, typical-script sex stuff… but I don’t see any of it as “nasty” or “wrong.”  If there’s one thing I know with absolute certainly, having come of age in a world where it is so easy to digitally connect with people across the globe, it’s that nothing — absolutely nothing — is unique to me alone. “If it exists, there is porn of it,” otherwise known as “Rule #34,” is a relatively concise was of expressing much the same thing. Hell, just spending a bit of time lurking in /b/ will do wonders for showing you the sheer variety of things that people find sexually appealing! And yes, I used to. Not my scene anymore, but mostly because I’ve found other places to more effectively address many of my interests…

So, I know that I’m not alone in my sexual interests, varied as they are.  And I have learned very well that I don’t need to fear my sexuality — I had a pretty effective crash-course in that one, mostly as part-and-parcel of unlearning the shame and stigma instilled in me from a Mormon upbringing.  And I know that I feel better when I’m comfortable with who I am in any respect; shame about who and what I am is never anything but damaging to my overall well-being.

With all that in mind, I have made some conscious shifts in my vocabulary to better reflect my relationship to sex.  I avoid references to body parts that carry a negative connotation — I don’t have “junk” between my legs, thanks, my cock is quite a treasure!  When I’m fucking, I’m not “doing the nasty” and there’s nothing I could call “getting down and dirty” about eating out a partner’s ass (unless they haven’t washed there recently, in which case I might help them wash up as part of our play!) Wanting to be tied up or locked up by someone who cares for me, and then whipped, flogged, pounded and penetrated with toys or hands or other bits of flesh (or all of the above) doesn’t make me a “freak in the bedroom,” it makes me a woman who enjoys some particular things on some occasions, and other things at other times.

As I mentioned in a recent post, I don’t need to feel ashamed of who I am or what gets me off.  Plenty of things do, and I’m okay with that.  I’m much happier being okay with it than trying to convince myself that I’m supposed to enjoy getting off more because “they” don’t want me to, because it’s somehow forbidden and therefore better.

And when my approach to life is to “seek pleasure first and foremost” and constantly evaluate what there is to gain and what harm there is in things as I go, it’s foolish to deny myself pleasure because somebody else thinks it might not be “normal,” because somebody else says it’s always bad, can’t possibly be sexy, has to be “dirty” and “wrong.” When my own lived experience says otherwise, why should I trust anyone else’s judgement on the matter? If it makes me happy… it can’t be that bad!

Diff’rent strokes for diff’rent folks, and so on, and so on.

I don’t understand some people’s delight in surrounding themselves with only people who are exactly like them. The declaration with beaming pride that you only associate with your own kind, that you make decisions about who to trust and who to believe and who to exclude based on identity markers.

And some of you at this point are nodding your heads in understanding and murmuring agreement — maybe you think I’m talking about racist idiots who only deal with other white folks, or rich snobs who wouldn’t dare to be seen walking in the same door as those poor working-class stiffs…

But I started writing this post because I’m sick of seeing people around me who are self-styled “progressives” and “liberals” and “open-minded queers and trans* folks” bragging about how the only people they have on Facebook are other queers, or how they don’t visit any businesses that are connected to right-wing leaders, or how wonderful it is that trans* women “all” have each other because “we” all understand the way the world works and nobody else possibly can.

Look, folks. Separatism sucks ass. Standing in an echo chamber where you can only hear your own words — or words identical to your own — just shuts out any possibility of hearing someone else, and if you happen to be full of shit, you’ve made sure nobody else can point that out to you.

I’m absolutely thrilled to have people on my Facebook, and people I interact with in meatspace too, whose ideas and opinions and worldviews are very different than mine.  Some of those views I can say with absolute certainty are wrong, and are harmful to me and many people I care about — and I’d bet money that many of my own views and opinions fit the exact same description.  But if I’m not willing to listen once in a while, I won’t have anything but myself and my echoes to tell me that I’m always exactly spot-on.

And I’m not saying that I’ll have my mind changed by simply listening — I don’t currently have any friends who try to tell me that the earth is flat, but if I did, it would be just another reminder that there are some people who insist on believing things that are demonstrably false. Same for other things that I do hear from friends, things that just make me more certain that I’m right when they repeat their lies. It isn’t a matter of “listening to both sides of the debate” to make an informed opinion — not when there’s only one side against a bunch of people scrambling hard to wish away reality.

And yeah, occasionally I walk away from an acquaintance online, or cut ties with a physical-world friend, when the only things I hear from them are of the “Nuh-uh, the world is too flat!” variety. I only have so much energy to spend on having that kind of silliness shouted at me.  But I still make a specific effort to keep people around me who see things differently than I do — and not just “keep around” but have significant relationships with, to know them as people and not merely as props to remind myself that I’m right… because sometimes, I’m not.

So, I suppose that means that I’m not in a hurry to walk away from the many trans* women I know who only associate with other trans* people, though it does certainly irk me when I hear another hallelujah chorus about how they’re lucky they have hardly any cis* folks in their lives.  And I’m unlikely to cut ties with the handful of “Guns and God and GOP, America’s the best country!” friends I have, either, though I do filter things on my own end to limit how much toxic nationalism-and-firepower-as-the-only-religion memes I expose myself to.  And I won’t be saying “see ya” to most of the queer people I know who post about how they find pleasure in noticing that there are no straight people on their social media — because their voices are generally balanced out by the majority of people I hear daily discussing how “those people” are an odd minority.

Diversity in practice is a whole lot more enjoyable for me than homogeneity and lip-service to “inclusion” and “tolerance.” And I’ll probably still be your friend even if you find life more fulfilling for you in an echo chamber of clones — because my more diverse connections with friends and acquaintances means that yours isn’t the only voice I hear, and I can choose whose words I listen to.

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