Stereotypes vs. Realities

My whole life, I’ve noticed that just as there are certain expectations for cultural norms for the “mainstream,” there are cultural norms expected of “alternative” sexualities and orientations. 

Think about the person who thinks he can use his “gaydar” to recognize a gay guy walking down the street.  Asked why, he might say the man seemed to have effeminate gestures, a certain haircut, or simply dressed nice.  Really, what does all of that mean?  What makes a gay man a "typical" gay man?

My articulate friend Mike recently wrote a paragraph in a blog post I thought was pretty genius:

“Of course a huge part of this disconnect is the basic assumption society makes that anything that isn't obviously different therefore isn't different. This is what happens to bisexual folks all the time; a bisexual male married to a female is assumed to be straight, while a bisexual male married to a male is assumed to be gay... Even though it's never more than just an assumption. Similarly, anything that isn't obviously kinky is assumed to not be kinky... Even though often enough that isn't the case.”

Immediately I was reminded of some of my own experiences.  I am surprised on the rare occasion that someone guesses my sexual orientation, my gender identity, or the fact that I am kinky.  It happens so rarely.  In college, a lot of men hit on me (well, boys) … heck, practically every male I said more than three words to made a pass at me at some point or other.  Women though?  About three total, and two of them merely hoping to get me as a third to amuse a man—and only because they had heard from someone or other that I was pansexual.  For some reason, a lot of folks seem to translate pansexual or bisexual to "will sleep with anything."  Only one woman ever actually guessed I was pansexual and not straight.

I don’t think it was that there were a stupendously small number of gay or bisexual women on a campus with 40,000 students in a fairly diverse city.  I’m pretty sure it was just that I don’t fit the stereotypical image many people—including other gay people—have of a woman who likes other women.  I wear a lot of dresses and skirts, I have long flow-y hair (okay, not so much the flow-y part), and I in no way appear “butch.” 

Here is a scene from The 40 Year Old Virgin—which is hilarious—that depicts the way a lot of people really actually think they can recognize gay men:

This is also a good time to watch “Keep It Gay” from The Producers!  This video is camp-tastic.  It doesn't make fun of gay people--it makes fun of gay stereotypes.  That's what makes it camp-tastic.

While we’re at it, John Barrowman, who appears briefly in The Producers, and who stars in the absolutely wonderful Torchwood (which I promise to write much about in the future), was at one point considered for the role of Will in the show Will and Grace.  Hilariously, he was rejected to play a gay man because he “’wasn’t gay enough”—despite the fact that he is gay in real-life … and the actor who was eventually cast as Will is straight. 

In the interview, Barrowman says he thinks he was rejected because people in America would be uncomfortable with a real gay man playing the role.  I've also heard him state that he feels he was rejected because he didn't fit the stereotype they wanted to project.  And as he says, he was just "being himself."

"Lipstick lesbian"

There is supposedly a phrase for someone like me:  A “lipstick lesbian,” according to Wikipedia, is a lesbian or bisexual woman who “exhibits a greater amount of feminine gender attributes relative to other gender expressions, such as wearing make-up, wearing dresses or skirts, or having other characteristics associated with feminine women.”

The clincher (besides the fact that you even need a word to denote this--apparently it is such a rarity!), is that the term “lipstick lesbian” in real life has actually come to refer to bicurious women or women who engage in lesbian activities in public in order to entertain or shock others. So if someone actually called me a "lipstick lesbian," they'd be way off-base in describing me.  

I think this sends an obvious message.  Someone who looks like me is actually suspected of being not a real lesbian or bisexual/pansexual woman!  

Frankly I do not understand this.  Why does the society expect me to change my personal aesthetics simply because I find women attractive?  I enjoy grace and elegance, and these days, you find that largely in “feminine” attire.  I like my long hair.  It has nothing to do with whom I happen to be attracted to.  And actually, generally speaking, I am attracted to what I find aesthetically appealing.  I do like women in dresses and long hair.  Hell, I also like men who wear makeup, have their hair long, and wear elegant clothing.  It’s certainly not a “must,” but it’s nice.

Self Beyond Stereotypes

This brings me around to gender.  There’s another one that nobody would guess.  I don’t think a single person I’ve met has ever guessed I’m transgender.  Even after I tell them, they can't entirely grok it unless they are also transgender.  I like the things I like—things that today are considered feminine.  Several centuries ago, my interest in fashion and elegance would not have been considered particularly feminine or masculine.  Men in many past epochs were very preoccupied with fashion!  Most of them had long hair too.  That short hair thing came about largely because of the industrial revolution.  Long hair wasn't safe around the machines.

The point is, these are just things.  There is nothing inherently female or male about them.  These categorizations are arbitrarily assigned and have changed many times throughout human history and from culture to culture.  My identity is not bound and circumscribed by my place and time.  I don’t identify as a gender because I am not a set of manufactured concepts.  What is real in me transcends what comes and goes.  

But because those manufactured concepts are what people see as real or important, they expect a transgender woman who identifies as non-binary to exhibit traits they consider non-binary.  They expect someone who looks androgynous or exhibits more “male” traits—by their definitions.  They fail to grasp that I am transgender because I lack those definitions.

Come to think of it, isn't that more or less a working definition of what gender is?  A stereotype for members of a given sex?  

And Now Onto Kink

I’d also like to come around to kink, the topic that Mike was originally posting on.  People who actually are kinky usually aren’t surprised to find out I am, but people who aren’t kinky generally seem caught off guard.  Why?  Probably because their image of kink is tied to the obviously different.  Do they expect me to actually walk down the grocery store aisle dressed in head-to-toe latex and carrying a whip?  Do they think I'm going to bark endless orders and speak in a German accent with my hair pulled back tight?  Do they think I'm a sex addict?  These are all common media images.

What's worse, the vast majority of times that kink comes up in films, it’s when characters are having some kind of psychotic break with reality—which is just completely off-base when it comes to real life.  One of the only exceptions I am aware of is the film Secretary, which is a gem.  See it if you haven’t; it’s not the most realistic film in the world (though it pokes fun at its own absurdity), but it stands out because it is about not obviously different people who are kinky--very kinky, as in 24/7.  They also are not having a psychotic break with reality; on the contrary, their story is one of healing.

But most vanilla people don’t get to see that side of kink.  They see over-the-top or downright inaccurate representations in the media that portray kink as something “dark” or “edgy,” and then they look at a “nice girl” like me and they’d never even guess.  And so again, I find myself invisible.  The reality is, the average kinky person is like the characters in Secretary—someone you would never guess about if you passed them in the street.  I’ve never heard a kinky person actually go on about their “dark” lifestyle (or perceive it as one).  So where the perception of the world at large is concerned … the average real kinky person is invisible.

Where Do Stereotypes Come From?

Some stereotypes are created and perpetuated by the actual groups they are about.  Odds are at some point in your life, you have met people who perfectly match the stereotypes you may have of them.  In fact, there are entire subcultures tied to sexualities.  The traits in question are community traits, rather than traits intrinsically tied to the orientations in question.

Why do these community traits spring into being?  I think to some extent it is quite an innocent thing—a desire to feel a sense of inclusion and to signal others that you belong to their in-group.  Fashion sense is a good example of something that makes it easier to identify other in-group members.  

Other stereotypes—most stereotypes—are driven by the media, which loves to sensationalize what it does not understand.  When the media creates and perpetuates stereotypes, it does not do so out of kindness, and the result is one of exclusion.

Who can honestly say what the average bisexual person looks like?  Or the average transgender person?  Or the average straight person?  Yes—these principles apply to members of the dominant groups as well.  Consider a straight man who wears makeup or watches chick flicks—or macrames himself a pair of jean-shorts.  Because popular stereotypes match his behavior with that of a gay man, he may find himself incorrectly judged as one.

The bottom line is, you can try and guess at a person’s orientation by looking at them, but you cannot know. Does it matter that I’m invisible—that people I meet are likely to make incorrect assumptions about my orientation or gender identity?  On one hand, no, the average person doesn’t really need to know that I’m one thing or another (however irritating it is to be regularly mistaken as something you're not), but on the other hand, yes—it matters that they believe they do know.

What people do need to know is that there is more variety around them than meets the eye.  Many eyes have been fashioned by exposure to stereotypes, blinded to all else.  They need to know the spectrum is wider than they think.  Yes, many people match their stereotypes.  And many more people do not.

And really, that’s why I decided to write this blog.  To be visible, and give visibility to others.