Holding-Hands by gf97127272 @ Flickr.com
Commenter Jess left an intriguing question on the comment thread of my sexual fluidity post last week. Since the thread is several weeks old by now — and the question itself opens up a whole new line of discussion — with her permission I am re-posting the comment as an entirely new thread.
Jess writes:
I have a question for the group. My experience lines up with annajcook’s (and the many in comments who’ve agreed) pretty well in terms of discovering a sexuality that’s person-centered and seems independent of gender. For me, it’s difficult to imagine being any other way, and I’m curious what it’s like to be straight or gay. Anyone out there willing to share their experiences? For instance, it’s hard for me to imagine knowing solely on the basis of someone’s gender before I even meet the person that I definitely would never be attracted to them or want a relationship with them. I’m not making the argument “everyone’s a little bit bisexual”- I believe people when they identify themselves as straight or gay, I’m just curious to understand what it’s like.
In an email exchange with me Jess elaborated:
I wrote “I’m curious what it’s like to be straight or gay” and I guess I would add that there are two questions- the first is about the discovery process and the second is about just the day-to-day experience of who one is attracted to & whether one acts differently around people of different genders because of the presence/absence of some sort of sexual tension. I would also add that the first question also applies to bisexual people who had some sort of clear discovery process (in contrast to a lot of the “fluid” identified people who eventually came to a conclusion like you described in your initial post).
A couple of brief observations and then I’ll open the floor for thoughts from the peanut gallery.
Speaking as someone else who is very person-centered and context-specific in their sexual attractions, I second that exclusivity is a confusing concept to wrap your head around if your sexual orientation is not sex- or gender exclusive. I used to be so frustrated when I was a teenager and trying to understand sexual vs. nonsexual attraction: none of the straight folks I spoke with seemed to be able to articulate how it worked. They just knew that’s how their sexuality functioned. So perhaps it is something that can’t really be explained? Yet queer folks are prompted, by their non-normative attractions, to think and talk a lot about the nature of their attractions. We’re asked to explain ourselves. And I actually think we learn a lot about our sexuality in the process. I hope that, as a culture, we’ll increasingly include straight folks in that conversation. Their sexuality isn’t any more “common sense” or self-evident than ours is, and we shouldn’t treat it as such!
My other question concerning sex- and gender-exclusive orientations is where trans* and sex- and gender-nonconforming folks fit into this picture. I’ve noticed some conversations on tumblr recently revolving around the question of whether not being sexually attracted to trans* individuals is transphobic. The question is posed something like this: if a straight woman identifies as someone attracted to men, but does not experience attraction towards a man with a trans history, with a non-gender-conforming or sex-atypical body, etc., is that a manifestation of transphobic feelings?
This obviously raises a huge tangle of questions involving the body and how important the physical organization of one’s body is (or is not) in the alchemy of sexual attraction. My point here is that when we talk about people whose self-identified orientation is exclusive to “men” or “women,” we need to unpack those categories a little and think about what we’re actually talking about. We can’t assume that every person who identifies as a straight male human being is going to have the body that in our minds automatically lines up with that identity.
Without further ado, I open the floor and encourage you to engage with Jess’s questions. Enjoy the conversation!
[...] This post was mentioned on Twitter by Amina Mithri, Pursuit of Harpyness. Pursuit of Harpyness said: Sex- and gender-exclusivity in dating: what’s that like then? http://bit.ly/fNWSJI [...]
if a straight woman identifies as someone attracted to men, but does not experience attraction towards a man with a trans history, with a non-gender-conforming or sex-atypical body, etc., is that a manifestation of transphobic feelings?
Let’s be really clear here: just because a woman identifies as straight and is attracted to men, that does not mean she is attracted to ALL men.
Even within the privileged and seemingly rigid category of “straight”, people vary tremendously in terms of what qualities—especially physical—turn them on. Personally, although I’m a straight woman, I’m not particularly attracted to certain types of men (For example, boyishly cute and youthful like Leo DiCaprio in “Titanic”? Nope. Hyper-muscular body-building types? No thanks.) There’s fluidity built into heterosexuality, too, when it comes to what attracts us, or doesn’t. Straight men come in all shapes, sizes, colors, attitudes, and behaviors, after all.
So I don’t think we can just say “Oh, well, she’s straight and if she doesn’t like trans-men, she’s phobic!” If she says “OMG, gross, eww, no!” in response to trans-men, then yes, she probably is transphobic. If she just says “Meh, doesn’t do it for me”, that’s not phobic, that’s just not being attracted to that particular type of man.
@BeckySharper I agree. What I do think is that the conversation around that issue helps to illuminate the complexity behind the concept of orientation and desire. That being attracted to “men” or “women” is really a lot more nuanced than it sounds on the surface!
I remember when I first had to admit to all my straight/gay friends that “no really, I have no idea what you’re talking about, I’ve just been nodding my head the entire time and taking your words for it”. This came up in a discussion about whether or not it’s okay to not be attracted to people of certain races. My friends compared it to being gay or straight, and asked me if I would judge people for only liking certain genders. My answer: YES! I most certainly do! The only thing that keeps my mouth shut about it is that to constantly remind myself that my experience is not the only valid one, and that all my gay and straight friends probably aren’t lying to me.
Hi, I’m usually a lurker, but I find this quesiton interesting. Btw, I am a straight woman. I guess to me it’s like,when I see a woman I just am not interested romantically, period. I just don’t feel anything. Whereas with guys, if I think he looks good I might be interested in a relationship.
To jump off of what Becky said…I identify as straight but one thing that I’ve noticed about myself is that there are *very* few men that I’m actually attracted to. There are a lot of men who have…(trying to phrase this in the way that makes sense)…bodies that are pleasing to me, aesthetically, and that can, but doesn’t always, have a sexual or erotic element (I would even say that the same is true for women and indeed there are probably more women that have what I consider to be aesthetically pleasing bodies than men who do). However, most of the time if I meet a guy who fits that criterion, I just don’t…feel anything. There’s no fascination or pull or perhaps chemistry. Every once in a while, I’ll meet a guy who I am actually attracted to, and although in my experience this small set of men do have some physical traits in common (e.g. they’re almost all taller than I am and lanky/wiry), they don’t all look very much alike and I don’t think that if I lined them all up, anyone would be able to figure out some sort of predictive algorithm. I will say that sometimes this feeling of attraction is interaction-dependent, but not always, and it sometimes (but rarely) occurs when I just see someone on a train platform or something. I’ve had a lot of straight, female friends for whom I don’t think this is true — there doesn’t seem to be the division there between someone they *evaluate as attractive* and someone *to whom they’re attracted*, if that makes sense.
Anyway, so to answer the more specific questions:
1) I guess I identify as straight because I’ve only had this sort of feeling for men although theoretically it could happen with a woman. Never has, and I honestly doubt that it ever will because I think I have an equivalent for women, which is that with some women (especially some of my close female friends), I feel very affectionate and sort of…cuddly towards them but have never felt any erotic or sexual element of the same type.
2) There isn’t, to me, a pervasive sexual tension when I’m dealing with men in general simply because I’m actually attracted to so few men, but when I’m interacting with a guy to whom I am attracted, then I feel a lot of pervasive sexual tension no matter the nature of the interaction.
3) Similarly to (1), I have never felt this sort of attraction towards someone who is trans. Since I don’t know the exact source of the distinction between men I’m attracted to and not, I don’t really know if that ever *could* happen although intellectually I have some difficulties with the idea in terms of how I enjoy the mechanics of sex (perhaps TMI? Sorry, MM.)
I have to run off so I can’t say more but I am very interested to see how this conversation will play out.
One thing I have experienced as a straight woman is a questioning of my own desires because they dovetail so neatly with the dominant cultural narrative.
Although I have felt strong attraction only toward specific men, and only been in relationships with men; however, I was strongly attracted to women at one point in my life (ages 15-17), and I continue to have desires and attractions toward women. So, am I denying that aspect of my sexuality, because I am also attracted to men, and society makes it SO MUCH EASIER for me to be with men? Or is that questioning in itself a denial of my heterosexual identity, a false attempt to assuage my sense of guilt over having heterosexual privilege?
I certainly realize that this anxiety is not really a huge problem, but it’s definitely part of my experience as a straight woman.
I agree with what the other commenters are (I think) saying, that gender-specific attraction is still person-centered. I’m a straight woman, and I meet tons of men to whom I’m not at all attracted; that feeling of romantic possibility just doesn’t exist in those interactions.
For the most part, when I meet women, it’s the same lack-of-romantic-possibility feeling.
It’s similar to being around my brother, actually.
Where I think it does get confusing-ish is “everyday flirting,” for lack of a better term. Due to living in a heteronormative and patriarchal society, where (presumed straight) men are (presumably) always on the make for (presumed straight) women — else said men be thought gay, effeminate, or otherwise unmanly — and women are often in a position where they don’t want to injure a man’s (presumed) fragile ego and/or are in a one-down position where insulting a man would get them financially or physically hurt, I think there often can be a pressure to flirt with people to whom one is not actually attracted. So there can be an undercurrent of sexuality in male-female interactions, even if one or both people isn’t feeling romantic possibilities.
Obviously, that pressure still exists for LGBT folks, but I don’t know how it plays out for them.
Hi and thanks for the post! I’m just about to leave for work but very much looking forward to engaging with the comments when I get home this evening.
Wow — lots of interesting ideas here!
So, am I denying that aspect of my sexuality, because I am also attracted to men, and society makes it SO MUCH EASIER for me to be with men? Or is that questioning in itself a denial of my heterosexual identity, a false attempt to assuage my sense of guilt over having heterosexual privilege? (Kari)
One of the problems I have with the idea of sexual identity being fixed is that it does provoke guilt and anxiety in folks who, like Kari, have more mixed feelings. If, Kari, you’re primary relationships have been and are currently with men, of course our society situates you as “straight.” I think it’s sad that there’s stress associated with saying, “this is who I am in the relationship I’m in right now” because it feels like you might somehow be denying or hiding other aspects of your sexual identity.
I guess to me it’s like,when I see a woman I just am not interested romantically, period. I just don’t feel anything. (Kristina)
This is something I’ve heard from a lot of folks who identify as gender-exclusive in their identity. It’s a way of being in the world that is very different from my own, in which virtually everyone I meet contains some element of possibility. Or rather, the element of possibility has more to do with where I’m at then my initial impressions of them? That’s a really awkward way of putting it. But basically, before I was partnered … every new person whom I encountered I could get myself into the frame of mind of, “well, this could work” as long as I liked them as people. There was no platonic/non-platonic divide. I either liked them or didn’t. And if I liked them, there was erotic potential there … which I could either act on or not depending on TONS of other factors.
Now that I’m partnered, I sort of turn off the part of me that pays attention to that potential when it comes to anyone other than my girlfriend.
I’m gender-queer and pansexual, so I can’t really speak to the questions… since my desires are fluid.
I can, however, say that I’m vastly more attracted to people who blur gender lines. Guys who many people would consider physically or emotionally “girly”? Usually way hot to me. Women who many people would consider “tomboy-ish” in appearance and behaviour? Usually very attractive to me.
But it’s not completely like that. There’s a long-haired, rather feminine woman in one of my classes who I’m very attracted to. And there’s a guy who’s physically “manly” but had a conversation with me about how he’s struggling to speak his native language and raise his son in his native culture, and how hard that is, sometimes, in an Anglo-centered society… and after that conversation, I felt substantially more physically attracted to him.
I consider myself pretty much straight, even though I have had and enjoyed (and would enjoy again, in the right situation) sex with other women. Here’s the best way I can describe it:
If a man says “I like your hair”, I immediately start thinking – “He likes my hair. Does that mean he likes me? Do I like him? Is he flirting with me? Do I like it? Should I flirt back?” etc. This would be true no matter who the man was, whether he was my type, etc. It’s just my natural response.
But, if a woman says “I like your hair”, I’m thinking – “I’ll have to style my hair like this more often.” Again, it’s just my natural response. It just doesn’t occur to me that the woman could be flirting with me. Even if I knew she was a lesbian, I think it would have to be pretty obvious that she was flirting, before I would think of it that way.
So for me, that’s what it’s like to be straight.
“It’s a way of being in the world that is very different from my own, in which virtually everyone I meet contains some element of possibility.”
Thanks for this conversation Anna. I’ve felt the same as above my whole life. I never tried to put a label on it because I’ve never heard anyone describe the way I’ve always felt.
The last issue is one about which I’ve thought extensively, and about which I have very strong feelings. I will probably write a post on my blog about it eventually, when I’m done with the grad school application process, if anyone is interested.
First, I agree with occhiblu that “gender-specific attraction is still person-centered.” However, I disagree with Becky. Categorically saying “just doesn’t do it for me” to an entire oppressed subgroup of men (or women) is a form of prejudice. That doesn’t mean we have to demonize people who feel that way – but it does mean we should have a more nuanced conversation than just “that’s how I feel and that’s the end of the story.”
Becky said:
“If she just says “Meh, doesn’t do it for me”, that’s not phobic, that’s just not being attracted to that particular type of man.”
If the hypothetical woman said that about black men instead of trans men, would it not be at least marginally racist?
I once had a little romantic affair with a man which ended when he decided that my trans status was inhibiting his attraction to me. We concluded that it wasn’t entirely reasonable to say it was his “fault,” but the confluence of social factors which likely led him to feel that way still represent a transphobic system, and the whole situation was regrettable. I think that type of approach is healthier than brushing such transphobia aside as something which cannot be helped.
@Sara,
If you do write that post I would love to have a link to it. Please shoot me an email at feministlibrarian [at] gmail [dot] com and I’ll be sure to give you a shout-out.
I’ve been thinking about what Becky wrote this morning ever since responded to her saying “I agree.” The part I agree with is that ultimately individual people get to say whether or not they’re sexually attracted to other individual people. That is, if one person looks at (or interacts with) another person and is like, “meh … doesn’t do it for me,” that’s their perogative. They get the final say on what’s sexy or not for them.
The problem is that we tend to essentialize those gut reactions (the “doesn’t do it for me” feelings), when in actual fact they’re a complex mix of biology, hormones, learned behavior, learned desire, learned aversion, etc. We learn in our culture that trans* bodies, sex atypical bodies, are not supposed to be desirable sexually (or that they are only desirable as fetish objects) … and helps to inform what turns us on (or not).
I’d argue that to not acknowledge that, and leave yourself open to the possibility of revising that learned aversion, is a form of transphobia. As you say, Sara, “the confluence of social factors which likely led him to feel that way still represent a transphobic system” … to brush that system aside with “just not my thing” is hurtful and dismissive.
@anna: “before I was partnered … every new person whom I encountered I could get myself into the frame of mind of, “well, this could work” as long as I liked them as people” Good heavens, woman, you must have been exhausted all the time just from the sheer expenditure of emotional energy!
saying “just doesn’t do it for me” to an entire oppressed subgroup of men (or women) is a form of prejudice.
I don’t think it’s a form of prejudice that equals demonizing or oppression, though. Oppression and demonization are made up of social/cultural/political actions, not simply a lack of physical erotic desire by one person for others.
And if we go by that, “personal is political” notion in terms of our sexual desires, I’m not sure where we’d wind up…do we have to be open to having sex with everyone in order to be fully tolerant, non-racist/phobic people? (I’m not being snarky, I’m genuinely putting the question out there).
it does mean we should have a more nuanced conversation than just “that’s how I feel and that’s the end of the story.”
Well, I think we’re having it here, and I think Anna’s posts do a really good job opening up that discussion. But I think it’s also okay for all of us to say “this is what works for me” (or not) and not be judged for it.
@annajcook – “But basically, before I was partnered … every new person whom I encountered I could get myself into the frame of mind of, “well, this could work” as long as I liked them as people. There was no platonic/non-platonic divide. I either liked them or didn’t. And if I liked them, there was erotic potential there ”
Please correct me if I’m misreading you, but that seems to me to suggest that the *all* the particulars of someone’s body — not just gender but also height, bone structure, coloration of various sorts, hair, and so forth — have negligible effect on whether or not you see erotic potential with that person.
@Sara – I think perhaps for the purposes of this specific sub-discussion, it might be useful to distinguish between romantic and sexual attraction. I agree with you generally about romantic attraction. However, given the technological state of reassignment surgery, especially in the FtM case, it doesn’t seem unreasonable to me that some people might find themselves to be sexually incompatible with transfolk without that necessarily being a form of prejudice, if that makes sense?
@mischiefmanager
Haha
! Honestly, I think that’s why it took such a long time for me to become sexually active in a relationship. I’d learned how to tune out those “this could work” signals because to do anything else was very overwhelming. To sort through the incoming data was daunting. So I just didn’t deal with it for a very long time.
@baraqiel
What a thoughtful observation. I’ve thought a lot about the “particulars of [the] body” when it comes to sexual desires. I would say that your reading is both correct and incorrect (at least in terms of how I think about this currently). You’re right in that I don’t have a very strong sense of “type,” particularly physical type, when it comes to my sexual attractions: the sort of person who turns me on in a spontaneous “wow s/he’s hot!” sort of way. Bodily presence is something I notice on a tactile level (i.e. I feel the nearness of someone I’m drawn to), but not on a visual level so much.
Yet once I have acknowledged the sexual attraction, the particulars of that individual’s physical self are far from “negligible.” It’s not like I fall in love with or feel attracted to someone dis-embodied from their corporeal self. Their physical self is a part of the person I love, and the physical pleasure of our interactions and the beauty of their bodies and movements and the clothes they choose to wear, etc., are all important.
It’s just all very … contextual? My pleasure grows outward from the person, rather than my being attracted to the physical/visual impressions first and then from there trying to get to know the person better.
I want to be clear: I in no way see this as a better approach to relationships. It’s just how I’ve learned that I tend to operate.
Is it weird that I want to say, yes, me too, to just about every comment here?
I use the label bisexual for political reasons and because it is a technically accurate description for me at the moment – I am polyamorous and have concurrent long term relationships with male and female partners.
But if I were to go with my attractions, I’d say I was a lesbian who is occasionally attracted to specific men. The rest of the time, while I love my male friends, I find the idea of sex with them boring and pointless. (With men I don’t know, I find the idea disgusting – I think that’s because with my friends, there exists a familiarity and level of affection that makes their physical proximity acceptable, if unexciting.)
And if you really get down to it, I’d have to say straight women and very feminine women don’t really do it for me either – I tend to gravitate towards bisexual women, butch women, and genderqueer people. Following on from that, I have found myself attracted to transmen, but not to transwomen, who I tend to categorize as too far up the feminine end of the spectrum for me.
And yet, having said all that, what annajcook said above is how I would put it as well – whether or not I am actually attracted to someone is ultimately more contextual than visual.
This is interesting. I seem to handle this a bit differently than others…
As “person-centered” I would say that I have a very definite “type” that I am physically attracted to [for both men and women]. By this I mean the person I see across the room and think “wow, what an attractive person!” is a rather fixed thing. [I tend to blame that on the P, as it is a rather *traditional* idea of beauty/attractiveness.]
However, when it comes to people I know, all of that seems to go out the window. At some point I go from knowing someone to finding hir attractive in a very different sense of the term. It has very little to do with the physical – it’s like looking at hir for the first time and really seeing hir. That’s the interesting, messy part where I find myself attracted to someone I’m not “normally” attracted to – and I love it. Physical presentation is so easily distorted (I can go from feminine to butch in a wardrobe change); for me, while it’s impossible to completely ignore it’s also strange to take so seriously.
As for “discovering” my sexuality: I always knew I was different, non-conforming, but I don’t think I was ever truly cognizant of my attraction to women until one took me home with her. Soon after, I sat down with myself and realized that hetero never seemed to fit and that’s why. I call it fluid now, but it was a moment in time where all of my past finally made sense, the pieces all fell into place, if you will.
@Nadia I would say I am the flip side of you. I am mostly straight – I use the word ‘queer’ because ‘bisexual’ seems to… evenly weighted. This bit, too: ‘I find the idea of sex with them boring and pointless’ describes how I think about most women. Like, yes, that might be a thing I could do. But… why? Why would I?
The first person I was ever in love with was a woman. So I always knew I was not exactly straight. But I only slept with a woman a couple of years ago. And I had a moment where I was like… huh. I’m… not as bi as I thought I was. I can’t explain it very clearly at all. I was sleeping with a man at the same time, and while I was not romantically involved with him, the idea of sex with him just seemed more desirable and obvious. I had a bit of a freak out because I couldn’t work out how much of my queerness was just the male gaze, that I’d been trained to find women attractive. The flip side of Kari’s wondering her straightness is based on cultural norms.
It was a really weird moment, because I had assumed that I was basically pansexual, although I didn’t know the word then. To find that actually, there WAS this internal line that defined part of who I was, and that no, I had no control over it, was truly truly bizarre. It was more than just ‘yay for penises’ (although, I do love the cock) it was something about maleness. I don’t know about the trans*/men without penises thing. The only (out) trans* person I know IRL is MTF and I was never attracted to her. I do often find people who play with gender or sit closer to the edges of their assigned gender to be attractive, but I don’t know if that is the same thing – not enough data points.
I think I could be in a sexual and romantic relationship with a woman as easily as with a man. But I don’t think I would ever have a purely sexual relationship with a woman again. I think it’s more that I am romantically AND sexually attracted to men, and generally only romantically interested in women. No, that’s not quite accurate. I can’t imagine having sex with a woman I wasn’t in love with – both because I don’t think I would want to without love/romantic interest, and because somehow I feel like having a sexual relationship with a woman would _necessarily_ involve more emotions. As in, the emotions would inevitably follow.
I am not sure how clear this is, I’m figuring some of it out as I go. It’s funny because there are some things it’s hard to know for sure (is it maleness I am attracted to, and would that hold true if the person were trans*), and some things that are beyond questioning (I really am mostly straight), and I am not sure why.
In response to Baraqiel’s comments at 11:49 am and 3:21 pm on the mechanics of sex with someone who doesn’t have particular body parts you’re interested in, or who has particular body parts you’re not interested in, that’s one of the points that’s confusing to me. I might be too nosy by asking this, but why wouldn’t, say, oral sex do the trick, or using hands or toys or whatever? I guess that’s part of my overall question of “what is it like to only be attracted to one sex?” Is it really about the genitals? (I know that for some people it’s not about the body parts but more about gender presentation, so I guess this question has a somewhat narrowed audience.)
@mischiefmanager’s “good heavens” comment- yes, that’s basically how it feels sometimes. Too many possibilities!
@chris and occhiblu, thanks for indulging my curiosity. Your descriptions are helpful and give me something to think about. I have 3 siblings so I get the analogy about just not being interested romantically the same way you’d be around your brother. And the flirting example is exactly what I was wondering about- if I tell a woman or man I like their hair, I immediately do start second-guessing myself: “does s/he think I’m flirting? Do I like hir? Do I want hir to think I’m flirting?” Which eventually led me to avoid that situation by not saying anything that could be interpreted as flirtatious, so when I do end up in relationships, my partners always say “I couldn’t tell if you liked me… you’re really hard to read.” So I wondered how that differed for straight or gay (monosexual?) people.
(aside to MM: I recommend you refrain from reading this comment)
@jess – Well, it depends on what you mean by “do the trick”. If what you mean is “lead to an orgasm for me by whatever means” then yes, probably. But, to get into a TMI example about myself, I actually really like giving my boyfriend oral. I like specifically interacting with his body in that way. I would really miss it, if I were to be with someone who did not have functional male genitals. I don’t really think there’s a way around that. To speak about myself specifically, I have never had a sexual relationship or even encounter with anyone except my current boyfriend, so I don’t know if, for example, I would enjoy giving oral to someone with different genitals (although again, intellectually I doubt it) or if I could be satisfied with a sex life that did not include that particular act. However, I have spoken with women for whom they have sufficient experience to say with certainty that they need x genital-specific sexual act in order to be sexually satisfied. So, that is definitely true for some people.
@anna
You have put words to something I’ve been thinking about recently. I’ve gone from mostly being in relationships with men to having a very out and committed relationship with a woman. My second tier friends (for lack of a better way of explaining it) were a little confused and I’ve had some questions asked along the lines of “so you’re gay now?” or “do you think you’ll go back to men?”
This is perfect.
I remember very clearly being a little kid and not really *getting* the difference. And if you lined up all the people I’ve ever been seriously interested in, they wouldn’t have a whole lot in common on the outside. If you looked closer or spoke with them, there’s a type. Musical. Creative. Kind. Smart. Sarcastic. I find these things more attractive than the bodies I guess… and then once I’m attracted to the person, being attracted to the body follows. Something like that.
@Kate: “I use the word ‘queer’ because ‘bisexual’ seems to… evenly weighted.”
I agree. I prefer queer in most instances myself. With ‘bisexual’ you tend to fall into the trap of saying ‘both’ genders instead of the more accurate ‘two out of the spectrum’.
“This bit, too: ‘I find the idea of sex with them boring and pointless’ describes how I think about most women. Like, yes, that might be a thing I could do. But… why? Why would I?”
Yes! That’s exactly it. It’s not a horrible thing and hey it can be fun, but…meh.
The rest of your post reads like a lot of the stuff that I went through in my head when I started actually addressing my sexuality. Except in my case, I’d only ever slept with men before and it was only when I slept with a woman for the first time that I had my ‘OMFG, so THAT’s what it’s about’ moment.
” I had a bit of a freak out because I couldn’t work out how much of my queerness was just the male gaze, that I’d been trained to find women attractive. The flip side of Kari’s wondering her straightness is based on cultural norms.”
Ooh this is interesting. I’ve pretty much concluded that my interest in men was pretty much culturally constructed. I was supposed to care what they thought and whether they liked me, so I did – even when I didn’t. And it’s a hard thing to shake, this acquiescence to the male gaze. I’m not free of it by any means – just more so than I was – and I doubt I ever really will be.
As for the women I find attractive, initially, I wanted femme women because that’s what’s supposed to be attractive, right? Then I discovered that, if I was honest, butch and genderqueer women were far more appealing. But that then raises the question of whether that’s because I’m conditioned to find masculinity appealing. Are masculine women a sort of compromise between my own inclination and societal requirements?
baraqiel- thanks for the reply. Again, maybe TMI, but anyway: I also enjoy giving oral sex, and I have only done it on cis males because so far that’s all I’ve dated, but I imagine I would also like it if I were in a relationship with someone with different genitals. Because I guess the what I am looking for when I do it is to see my partner’s response and experience the up-close-and-personal feeling (it seems much more intimate than PIV sex), and not necessarily to feel the size and shape of a penis in my mouth. The latter is something I like, too, but I imagine I would like other anatomy just as well. So it sounds like that’s one difference. hmm.
@jess, with potential TMI warning
“what is it like to only be attracted to one sex?” Is it really about the genitals?
I’m not 100% straight, as I have been attracted to a rare few women in the past, and have had a few one-time bisexual experiences. But I’m predominantly straight, and am definitely “person-centered” in my attraction. I have a definite “type” in men which is a combination of both physical characteristics (stockier men with strong arms/chests, but not overly muscle-bound; usually dark-haired and often darker-complexioned; confident – but not cocky, and certainly not a jock – strong but with a vulnerable side, witty), and within 6-8 years +/- my age. Interestingly, my female “type” is physically similar (stockier and dark-haired), though different in personality (mellower). My types are so specific that with the vast majority of men, and an even larger majority of women, they don’t even register on my radar as people I’d be potentially be interested in, sexually or intimate relationship-wise.
So getting back to jess’ question (I was getting there, slowly!), genitals are part of it – but not all. While oral sex is a necessary part of good sex to me, and toys are fun, by themselves they’re just not enough. While the sexual experiences I’ve had with women have been incredible, they all were a part of groups with men involved, and I don’t know that I would have enjoyed them as much without the men present.
Furthermore, a huge part of what attracts me about men – in and out of bed – is just their maleness, and the contrast. On the physical level, I love very strong arms, chest, and shoulders, which are not as common in women. On the emotional level, I love seeing a strong man who can be caring and vulnerable. On another level, I love the contrasts of rough (male) and soft (female) in bed. I just love the juxtapositions. While I loved the softness of the women I was with, looking back I think it was more for the novelty.
And to address Sara’s question above, I haven’t felt attracted to any of the FTM trans men that I’ve known to date because they all had slight builds, which I would not be attracted to in a cis male either. It’s possible I could be attracted to a MTF with a stronger build, but I haven’t knowingly met any. But a MTF would lack the strong-man-being-vulnerable-despite-social-pressure personality trait, which is something I find incredibly endearing and has always been a part of what made me fall in love with previous long-term partners (all male). So…I don’t know if it would work. But I honestly believe it’s because of traits that I would not find attractive in cis men or women either, not because of transphobia.
I’d like to take a minute to thank all of you for sharing your varied experiences. I love threads like this for what they show of the myriad ways of experiencing and expressing our sexuality.
A quick note about trans* terminology, since we’re talking about trans folks as a largely cisgendered group of people. Please make sure in comments that you don’t reduce trans folks to their transness. Instead of saying “a MTF” (which is the linguistic equivelant of using “transgender” as a noun) it’s better to write “trans woman” because that emphasizes the person’s confirmed gender (their self-identified gender) and because it recognizes them as a woman, as a human being. For anyone with questions about language, I find Fenway Health’s Trans Basics (PDF) pamphlet really useful.
On a more personal (TMI) note. I have been thinking about the physical aspects of attraction while reading all the fascinating comments on this thread. Since I have only ever had tactile, sexually intimate experience with a woman all these comments make me wonder if I’m unwittingly more of a lesbian than I have assumed up to now
. Since I don’t plan on testing the theory with any men — my partner and I are in a committed monogamous relationship — I suppose it’s something of a moot point. At the same time I find myself wondering whether, if I were to be in a relationship with a typically-male-bodied person, whether I would miss making love to a typically-female-bodied person … or whether what I would miss would be my lover’s particular body? Perhaps people who have had more partners than I can speak to this question. Is it the basic sexybits that you miss, or is it that person’s particular sexybits? (I’m guessing some of both …)
This conversation reminded me of Heather Corinna’s essay Disability Dharma, about what having sex while disabled can teach all of us about sex. I won’t try to summarize here, because I think the whole thing is worth reading. Suffice to say, she’s talking about how we get stuck thinking about sex requiring certain body parts and actions to be pleasurable … and how to deal with the reality that often it simply is not possible to have all of those parts and actions. But that this shouldn’t stop us from engaging in loving, playful, creative sexual intimacy with one another.
Categorically saying “just doesn’t do it for me” to an entire oppressed subgroup of men (or women) is a form of prejudice.
This is definitely (and obviously, I think) the case, though it should also be clear why it makes people uncomfortable and why they want to avoid it; it ends up meaning either that their sexuality is oppressive, or, that it’s okay in some way or another to be sexist or whatnot. (That being a straight woman, say, could be both sexist and morally alright is a difficult idea to parse; at least, I find trying to parse the idea that being a straight man is both sexist and morally acceptable difficult to parse, and the prevailing wisdom in that area would have me less culpable, since I’m discriminating against men.)
That said, I definitely have both a “generic” attraction, and a “person-specific” attraction. I can see people on the street and think they’re attractive-looking, but if I come to regard someone highly, how attractive looking they are goes up (and the two effects are of roughly equal magnitude). Possibly if I came to despise someone, it could go down, but I don’t really know anyone I have a lower opinion of than “neutral-ish”. Or at least, any women I have a lower opinion of than neutral.
But when I’m dealing with men, I don’t see the “generic” attractiveness, nor the “specific” one. I’d say realistically for any woman (or at least those from ~half my age to ~twice my age), I can see why someone would find her attractive (whether I experience it emotionally or not), but with men, I just don’t get it. (Which is probably a good deal social conditioning? But obviously I can’t be sure.) With trans individuals? They cover all the same appearances, personalities, whatnot as cis individuals, so there ought not to be any difference less transphobia; I’m certainly not confident I do process it the same way emotionally (for either transition direction).
@Anna: I think it’s some of both. I find that there are certain physical bits I miss about each of my past lovers once they’re in the past (not necessarily just their genitals, but also things like beautiful pair of hands or a shaved head or broad shoulders). But there’s also pleasure of discovering new bits to like in new people, so the novelty balances out the nostalgia. (I don’t mean to make it sound like I see my lovers as a collection of body parts, but exploring and bonding with someone else’s body is a really vital part of my relationships.)
@Becky: I’m a social psychologist, so my working definition of prejudice tends to be something like “negative feelings toward an outgroup.” What you call “social/cultural/political actions,” I would call discrimination, regardless of whether it is motivated by prejudice.
No, we don’t have to be open to having sex with everyone – we just have to not exclude entire stigmatized subgroups. Saying “I cannot feel attracted to black people” is prejudicial. Saying “I am not attracted to that person or that person or that person” is not.
I should clarify the example I gave to illustrate my point: the man with whom I had this conversation did not stop dating me because of the present state of my body but rather because of its history. Also, not all trans bodies are, as Anna says, particularly “sex atypical.”
@Baraquiel: That’s an interesting point which I’ve thought about in the past and will have to think about more. My current reaction is that it still seems prejudicial to exclude the whole group, ignoring the diversity of body types and the huge range of possibilities for making the mechanics of sex work. Besides, sexual attraction typically occurs before one has seen the other person’s genitals.
Regarding the level of specificity in your second comment, I love giving my (cis) boyfriend oral, too, so I understand where you’re coming from. I do sorta feel the same was as Jess on that, too, though.
@Nadia: There just just as much diversity of masculinity and femininity, as well as sexual orientation, amongst trans women as there is amongst cis women. It’s not fair to say that trans women as a group are on the “feminine end of the spectrum,” any more than it would be reasonable to say that about cis women.
@viajera: Plenty of trans men out there have strong builds.
@Brian: I said “Categorically saying “just doesn’t do it for me” to an entire oppressed subgroup of men (or women) is a form of prejudice.” I did not say “an entire subgroup of humans,” and I chose not to do that for a reason. Sexuality is, I think, intrinsically connected to gender (in a complicated way), and it is not sexist to be exclusively straight or gay. Sexuality is not intrinsically connected to race or medical history (trans status).
Sorry for the long comment…
@Sara
Sometimes complex comment threads demand long comments
. Please don’t feel the need to apologize.
@Sara: No, don’t apologize! Your comments add a lot to this thread!
Personally, I get irritated when people criticize women for not wanting to have sex with someone (or a sub-group of someones)—and saying “Well, you’re being prejudiced!” is innately critical. To me that plays into the patriarchial idea that if a woman chooses not to have sex, she’d better be able to justify that refusal, since women should be available for sex to everyone all the time.
Frankly, I don’t think a woman ever owes anyone an explanation as to why she doesn’t want to fuck them (except, perhaps, her partner with whom she’s in a relationship).
“However, given the technological state of reassignment surgery, especially in the FtM case, it doesn’t seem unreasonable to me that some people might find themselves to be sexually incompatible with transfolk without that necessarily being a form of prejudice, if that makes sense?”
@baraqiel I’m capable of being attracted to people before I know what their genitals look like. I believe even if I were exclusively attracted to people of one gender, I’d be able to be attracted to someone without having first seen their genitals (something that appears to be lost on a vast majority of craigslist denizens, btw, but never mind).
There are lots of options for how transgender men deal with their genitals, ranging from phalloplasty to nothing at all. For me, testosterone provides a perfectly functional, if very small, dick, and I have no interest in any further alterations; if you wouldn’t be interested in a guy with a small dick, I couldn’t fault you for that. I know plenty of size queens and I know where to get the special equipment for having a good time with them too, if we wanted to. But I have a hard time understanding what it would be like to feel attracted to someone and then learn what their genitals look like and suddenly stop feeling attraction. Is that an adequate description of what happens when you learn an attractive man is a trans man?
I tend not to think of sexual disinterest in trans people as transphobic—I just think it tends to indicate a failure of imagination, or maybe a regrettable specificity of sexual taste. Not so much a transphobia, maybe, as a cisphilia—a widespread sexual fetish for people with the socially-expected sex-gender-body configuration. But the sheer prevalence of this fetish can be frustrating for trans people. Imagine having to expect that most people you’re attracted to probably have a particular fetish that makes you sexually incompatible, at least until proven otherwise.
I think we have a lot of work to do about social transphobia in order to create a society where trans people are as likely as non-trans people to have full and healthy relationships. We need more examples of trans people in good relationships, out in the world and in the media, and we need to break down the stigma our society attaches to not being exclusively cisphilic.
@Sara – “Besides, sexual attraction typically occurs before one has seen the other person’s genitals.”
Ah, I see now we’re talking about slightly different things. I agree with you, generally, that saying “I could never feel *sexual attraction* for all the members of x group” is probably prejudicial in nature (esp. when talking about transfolk because that assumes a priori that you can actually tell that about someone with 100% certainty just from looking at them clothed). I don’t think, however, that saying “I could never have a sexually satisfying relationship with someone who didn’t have x genitals” is prejudicial — I would view that akin to saying that someone has a certain kink and they can’t have a sexually satisfying relationship without incorporating that kink.
And, as is becoming apparent from this conversation, many people fall in between “I don’t need much more than sexual attraction to want to actually have sex with someone” and “I need very specific elements to be present for me to be interested in sex” (no judgment either way).
@Becky: I agree that women (and men) should not be criticized or questioned when they say they don’t want to have sex with someone – but this is a situation where some folks say they don’t want to have sex with an entire group of people, in theory, by virtue of their group membership (as opposed to a single person in a given situation). I don’t want to shame anyone, and I don’t think that’s what I’m doing – but I do want to point out a social phenomenon which is driven by transphobia and which warrants some degree of awareness and criticism.
@entity: Cis-philia is transphobia in the same way that giving preference to white people necessarily denigrates non-white people. I don’t think the answer is to invent a new term, but to allow people to talk about their internalized transphobia without jumping on them like they have committed a crime. I am not trying to demonize anyone – I am just saying, as you say at the end, that this is a real problem our culture needs to work through.
@Baraquiel: I see what you mean, but I’m really talking about both things. “I could never have a sexually satisfying relationship with someone who didn’t have x genitals” is not equivalent to “I could never have a sexually satisfying relationship with a trans person.” Plenty of trans people have “x genitals,” regardless of what x is.
Sara- great comments & don’t apologize for the length!
Viajera’s comment was mysterious to me and if you don’t mind explaining it a little bit I’d appreciate it. You talk about men as rough and women as soft, but as feminists the readers of this blog are probably more aware than the general public that those stereotypes aren’t always true, and even the general public doesn’t really view the sexes as quite so divergent. It’s generally acknowledged that women can be strong, athletic, aggressive, and whatever else constitutes “rough” and that men can be small and affectionate or whatever constitutes “soft”. So I guess my question is what is it about cis men that could make them more attractive to you than say, a cis female athlete with a strong build or a trans man with broad shoulders? You also mention a juxtaposition of vulnerability with social expectations of male stoicism… that part makes sense to me in that I also tend to admire & have crushes on people who actively reject sexist norms.
@Sara – Oh, I definitely agree with you about that. However, if someone is attracted to masculine-presenting people and also needs or at least strongly desires their partner to have a functioning penis and testicles, then depending on their definition of “functioning”, that excludes some cismen as well as many if not most transmen, if I understand the current state of technology correctly (this is especially true if one includes “able to achieve ejaculation” in their meaning of “functioning”).
@entity – “Is that an adequate description of what happens when you learn an attractive man is a trans man?” To be honest, I’ve never had that experience, so I can’t tell you. As I mentioned above, there are very few men who I actually find attractive and of that limited set, I’ve only been in a position to know first- or second-hand of their cis-ness about…three or four times, perhaps.
Re: “So, am I denying that aspect of my sexuality, because I am also attracted to men, and society makes it SO MUCH EASIER for me to be with men? Or is that questioning in itself a denial of my heterosexual identity, a false attempt to assuage my sense of guilt over having heterosexual privilege? (Kari)–>
One of the problems I have with the idea of sexual identity being fixed is that it does provoke guilt and anxiety in folks who, like Kari, have more mixed feelings.” (annajcook)
YES. This is very true.
And, ultimately, these categories of sexual identity are an imprecise shorthand because every person’s sexuality is unique. It’s a mistake to think you understand anyone’s sexuality because you know their category. Regardless of being gay, straight, or other, a person’s sexuality may be encompassing or focused. And it may be dependent to varying degrees on physical or identity cues.
Sexuality is not a rational thing. I don’t think it’s fair to ask people to be “fair” in their attractions. If curly hair or green eyes or short stature are your cues… well, it is what it is. Or maybe your thing is creative-types. Or masculine women. Etc. However, I think many people have more range than they realize. They haven’t explored very far because they are inhibited by societal pressures, and are bound by their romantic commitments. That goes for non-hetero folks, too.
I call myself a straight woman, although I am uncomfortable identifying too strongly with my straight-ness. I don’t want to appropriate another label, though, because I have only had interpersonal sexual experiences with men. And I’ve had enough experience to speak with confidence.
My physical tastes are variable (although I tend toward taller, broader men). The winning combo of traits my guys have had in common is “intellectual and rebellious.”
But I’ve also had crushes on girls of a very specific subset: boyish, feisty, and stylish. These are different from the feminine women I find aspirationally or sympathetically attractive–whom I have no interest in engaging sexually.
I am engaged to a man–pleasant-faced, social activist geographer, who is good with his hands. And we have great chemistry. So I am unlikely ever to have an opportunity to pursue a relationship with a woman. Ergo, my sexual-social category will probably be pretty fixed as “straight.” But I wouldn’t want people to think that captures the whole story.
@annajcook @ 9:09 – I’m sorry about that! I realize now that wording was both outdated and potentially disrespectful. The only explanation I’ll make (and not a justification) is that I’m late to the game, so to speak, when it comes to trans* issues and am still learning. Thanks for the education.
@jess – (with TMI warning again) my comment about rough vs. soft was meant to relate to my specific experiences with a couple women relative to my experiences with men. One of the things that stood out most in my personal experiences with women was how soft their skin was, relative to that of the men I’d been with. I recognize this is not universal, though didn’t make that clear above. As for why not a woman athlete with broad shoulders?…well, I don’t know. My attraction to women leans more towards the zaftig side than the athletic side, which is part of it. But personally/emotionally strong. I think the juxtaposition concept is at the heart of it – men and women who reject, in some part of themselves, gender expectations. But beyond that, I’m really not sure – the workings of attraction can be a finicky thing to tease out, for me at least!
@Sara – I’m sure there are many trans men with stockier builds. As I believe I said above (and meant to if I didn’t!), the trans men I’ve knowingly met *to date* have not, and so have not fallen into the category of men I find attractive, whether cis or trans*. I imagine I would/could find a trans man with the right build attractive, though having not knowingly been in that situation, I can’t say for sure.
@viajera
I didn’t imagine that you meant to be disrespectful, and in fact the glossary I linked to above (last edited in 2010) doesn’t indicate that “MTF” and “FTM” per se are problematic terms. It just seemed, since folks were talking in the thread about their feelings concerning being sexually attracted to trans folks, that a general caution about being mindful of language and remembering to talk about trans people a people, rather than simply bodies with a certain history, was important.
Speaking as a cissexual (someone who doesn’t have a trans history or identity), I figure I will rarely go wrong by defaulting to using the language of someone’s preferred gender presentation. Which is why I tend to stick with “trans man” and “trans woman” when their current gender identification is important and “trans folks/people” when we’re just talking about the whole spectrum of people who identify outside of the sex/gender binary.
Whenever possible, I just try to ask about individual peoples’ preferred vocab, and do my best to remember their personal preferences.
I’m a straight woman, but for a long while I would have said I was bi if pressed about the issue. I find men and women attractive (cis and trans folk alike), and I would theoretically be open to a relationship with a person regardless of their gender. Something I’ve realized over the past few years, though, is that with women, I’m attracted to them but don’t have any desire to be physically intimate. I wonder if it isn’t just social conditioning–women are presented as sex objects and so I regard them that way. With men I find really attractive, my brain makes the jump to “Dear god, this person needs to be in my bed now.” I don’t discount the possibility that a woman could cause that same reaction, it just hasn’t happened yet.
[...] as an asexual person. Given the conversations we’ve been having this week on the thread about sexual orientation and desire, and on the thread about marriage and sleeping arrangements, I thought Harpy readers might be [...]
@iamnotanoctapus
Your description of your experience feeling attraction to men and women made me think about mine. I sometimes identify as bi and sometimes as straight – I definitely feel attraction to women, and I also feel that I would enjoy being sexually intimate with another woman, but I still seem to have sought relationships primarily/only with men. I often describe myself as “straight-leaning” or something like that – in that my attraction to men is stronger than my attraction to women. There may also be a qualitative difference between my attraction to men and my attraction to women, but that qualitative difference could be mostly a product of the way relationships between women are typically construed. (I’m still not sure, but in the end it’s not all that important to me that I develop a more specific description, because I’m in a long-term exclusive relationship with a man anyway.)
(I should note, just because I talked so much about trans-related issues above, that I feel this particular question is unrelated to me being trans.)
I (a cis woman) consider myself straight because the thought of playing with another person’s “ladybits” is a huge turn-off, no matter how physically attractive I think that person is.
Also, I (usually) like mutual play, so it takes me out of the mood if I don’t reciprocate.
I don’t think it’s fair to my partner, so I won’t try it again.
I’m also in a long-term functionally monogamous relationship with a cis man, so it doesn’t really come up often.