entitlement

Talking about my gender is boring: a paradox of blogging about gender

I write about gender a lot. And I write about *my* gender a lot, specifically. And I enjoy it. It’s been an important useful exercise for me, and I know that sometimes my writing is validating and useful to other people too. I have no intention of stopping any time soon.

And yet. It’s also true that I am almost universally annoyed or disappointed when people take my genderqueerness as an invitation to turn me into their personal gender 101 instructor.

A lot of this comes from the fact that I have been over this. I have said my piece on gender in so many ways, here and elsewhere. And I keep doing it over again, whenever I do have the energy (hey there, 30-week genderqueer challenge that I am doing right now!). If you want to understand this stuff better, here look, I wrote it down for you already so I don’t need to be able to come up with exactly the right words in the moment. I don’t like to do this shit on demand. Because that is hard and exhausting, and often a losing battle.

I hate the entitlement of people wanting a special individualized repetition of shit I’ve been over, that I’m done with, and that I honestly just want to have behind me. I mostly don’t care about the 101 anymore, to be honest. Like, sure, you just want to learn, but I’ve already done the work of education in the area you’re asking me about and I don’t feel like doing it again. So if your desire to learn doesn’t extend to being willing to google a thing (or seriously even just asking me to send you some links is fine. I can do that for you), then I’m already tired of you.

The thing is, yes, I am genderqueer. And yes, obviously I do work for genderqueer visibility and education in many ways, a lot of the time. I am also a person, with other actual hobbies and interests, though. And sometimes I want to be related to around those things, instead of someone being all like “oh, you’re genderqueer? I’ve heard about that existing and now that I’ve got one of you in front of me, answer all of the questions I’ve been too lazy to bother following up on in my own time!”

I didn’t tell you I’m genderqueer because I want to fucking talk about it at length. I did it so you would stop misgendering me, and get back to whatever else we were doing. That is all.

“Rape isn’t about sex; it’s about power”… except for when it really is just about sex

[TRIGGER WARNING: discussion of rape, both in abstract generalities and of my own specific experiences]

I was amazed recently to see the responses to this article about rape, and the idea that for many rapists, the fact that they know their victim doesn’t want to have sex is the turn-on. Which, this just seems obvious to me.

But, on facebook where I saw it shared, comment after comment poured in to correct the author on their understanding, because obviously “Rape is NOT about sex it’s about power and control.” Some people couched this in somewhat more nuanced ways, such as claiming that “It’s a sexual crime that is not sexual in nature,” or that “It is very much sexual. But it has nothing to do with sexual pleasure.”

The message here is: rapists don’t rape because they enjoy it sexually, or because doing so turns them on. They do it to feel powerful and/or to enact the power that they already have in society. And the thing is, sometimes this is exactly what rape is: when it is used as a tool of violence in war, very often when it occurs in prison, and also very often in abusive interpersonal relationships, rape is a symbolic way of claiming ownership and control over another human being, and often a way of communicating that that the rapist doesn’t consider them to be human, and sometimes that is the primary motivation for rape. And it is important to acknowledge this aspect of sexual/sexualized violence.

But that doesn’t even begin to cover the full range of non-consensual sexual activities. It completely elides the fact that we live in a society that does actively sexualize violence against women, and that generations of men have grown being taught to be turned on by sexual violence, just as the Ms. Magazine article describes.

In fact, the description of rape as always about power doesn’t even remotely apply to my own experience of rape.

There are some things that I’ve only just recently put together in my head, that explain my own experience of rape and how it happened in a much more solid way than I have ever before been able to articulate.

The thing about my abusive ex? One of the main things that I led to things going the way they did with us? His primary sexual fantasy was for one person to start off not wanting to have sex, but to change their mind once things started and wind up enjoying it.

Like, he told me this at one point. And I’ve only just now realized just how strong a thing this was and how much it coloured so many of our sexual interactions.

Because the thing that this did, in our relationship? It meant that if he wanted to have sex and my initial position was a no, not just that he didn’t accept that answer (which is the first and most obvious problem), but that he was actually *more* turned on once I’d said no, because this was now a chance for him to enact his fantasy. From his perspective, when I said no, the stakes actually got higher.

I didn’t realize this at all at the time, but it makes his behaviour make way more sense to me now. Not in a way that makes it somehow less reprehensible, for the record; just in a way that makes it easier for me to remember things more clearly, because the motivation tying together his actions has made the narrative easier to hold in my head.

This also explains some other things that for years left me confused and unable to name my experiences as rape. The thing about it all is that my rapist isn’t a person who got off specifically on non-consent – he doesn’t quite fit the model described in the Ms. article that started me down the road to figuring this out. What he was looking for wasn’t violent all the way through. It was slightly murkier than that.

And so there are facts like, I learned how and when to vocalize fake enjoyment to make things go faster, and to get him to finish more quickly. Because, of course, his fantasy wouldn’t be complete without it.

Though, I also have to admit that it’s not as if me never coming around to vocal enjoyment ever stopped him, either. It just made things take longer, and often involved him tapping into his other major turn-ons, which were just generally more physically demanding for me – though I also knew to pull them out when I didn’t have the energy for play-acting (you see how I gave myself the illusion of choice and control, there?)

The truth is, my abuser was a deeply, overwhelmingly selfish person. He was entitled, in ways that pervaded all of his interactions with other people, and the ways he would push to get his way in all things. But his impulses were never intended to be violent. He didn’t really understand what he was doing to me, but that doesn’t make it any better for me that I went through it.

For him, it was definitely, unquestioningly, and always about sex. About his sexual fantasies, and turn-ons, and pleasure. And he failed to see the implications of his actions, and he failed to really care about my boundaries, ever. It wasn’t ever really about dehumanizing me, or anything remotely like that.

But it was definitely rape.

So, to the people who insist that rape is never about sex: you are allowing your political position and perhaps your personal experience to override and delegitimize the lived experiences of many rape survivors. Your shitty hard line stance made it harder for me to identify my experience as rape and has made my healing process unnecessarily difficult. Stop it.