I would not have attended Que(e)ry two years ago.
In fact, I probably would not have taken one iota of interest in the "radical, queer, arts convergence"- radical-anarchist-radical-takeover of Ida Noyes Hall that took place in all its glittery, gender binary-shattering (did I mention radical?) glory last Saturday. I just didn't care what anyone had to say about gender and sexuality—These categories just exist, okay? I get it, enough!—And especially not someone with a pink mohawk. Also, I hate wearing make-up and glitter. But that's just me.
But a lot has changed for me since high school, when I was embarrassed to admit I was studying "Gender and Sexuality in Latin American Literature" at UC San Diego; when less than a year ago a certain sociology professor prodded me to justify why I thought "Problems in the Study of Sexuality" would be a useful addition to my Autumn Quarter course schedule, and I lied to my parents that I was actually taking "just an introductory English course" to fill my fourth slot and prevent more awkward conversations.
Now I conspire to get people tied up in the Third Floor Theater and eat vegan food with my hands on occasion. Go figure.
The thing is, I've thought about this a lot, the "where do desires come from?" question, and "why do I expect people to relate to each other in cerain ways?" and "what in me wants to be normal?" I don't have any good answers of course; but since I landed here as a freshman, many personal events, friendships and other experiences outside of academia have led me to appreciate these questions and recognize that the many possible answers are far from obvious—no where near as simple as we might have them be.
I think gender and sexuality are enormous, and enormously important, concepts that we should all pay more attention to. I am dying to hear more people my age talk about the assumptions that we all make about the way men and women should appear, behave, dress, make love to each other—assumptions about sexuality that go beyond what is heterosexual and what is homosexual to include a clusterfuck of kinks, fetishes and preferences.
We don't spend enough time acknowledging that desire exists, power exists, relationship categories are varied and changing, "normal" is a fallacy... If you have to stage an impromptu performance or sit people in a make-up chair and paint their faces to examine gender, to examine behavior, then please do it.
I'm not saying my peers need to drop their Adam Smiths and their Platos and take up reading Gail Rubin and Michael Warner, though these are theorists I have come to love by happy accident. They can just hang out with me and my queer, kinky friends sometime...
But much about Que(e)ry would put off the average UChicago student (let's face it, guys, it takes a lot of dessert food to get us out of our study caves on a given night). First of all, it was an all-day event conceived of, produced, organized and unorganized by a small group of campus activists who emphasized anarchy, art-making, veganism, and using the adjective "radical" every other sentence, as forms of resistance. This broad take on how to resist norms was its strength, but also made the party inaccessible to the people I most want to talk to, who don't already believe these concepts are discussion worthy.
With workshops on "BDSM as Bio-political Resistance" (I didn't attend, but I heard the presenter read a little Foucault out loud, and screamed a lot) and "Radical Cheerleading," the event was like a big inside joke; a ritualistic prank against all sorts of social conventions just a few steps above TP-ing the president's house, that only the iniated could understand. In fact, if you weren't laughing and screaming along, you might develop the uncomfortable feeling that you just don't get the punch-line.
Some workshops were more productive than this (and by productive, I mean accessible to a wide audience not already versed in the ethos of sex positive, queer and kink communities. Other attendees probably had different definitions of productive, or didn't make being "productive" a priority at all): "Practical Non-Monogamy," by Scathe, a presenter I really respect, was one of them. My boyfriend's praise sums it up: "He didn't assume that we all wanted to be polyamorous... he didn't try to convince us that open relationships are great for everybody, if we would only get rid of our hang-ups, which is an argument I've heard. They're not!" it was practical. It didn't make any assumptions.
I wanted people to stop assuming things because I'm a girl; dating a boy; really bossy; don't wear makeup; etc. etc. But this means I, and the sex positive communities around me, need to stop assuming that people share in common the same social leanings and political agenda, or would if only they spent the afternoon with us, some pot and some Judith Butler. If I want everyone to take gender fluidity and alternate sexuality seriously, then I'm going to have to start explaining this stuff to them where their understanding stops, rather than ask them to make the mental leap all the way to an anarchist arts convergence, and what it takes to feel comfortable in such a space.
The workshop I organized with two lovely, lovely people, Vincenza and Wren, possibly had one of the tamer titles descriptions: you can look it up, it was called "Intro to Bondage." What we like about rope, what you might like about rope. Some practical, hands on demonstrations. Hopefully some fun. I didn't ask anyone to hog-tie the patriarchy or wrap their heads around Foucault's biopower or Agamben, and I'd like to think that's why we had close to 30 attendees.
I'd also like to think that this practical ethos will serve future sex positive, kink positive events on campus well, if we can get some started.
Thanks, Que(e)ry, for making me feel more supported than ever before on this campus; now, any suggestions to keep the inquiries going?
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2 comments:
i think there's something to be said for workshops that don't try to put themselves into the "intro to" level all the time. it's extremely tiring to go to multiple conferences and always have to start from scratch.
starting out with some assumed background might exclude some of the "non-initiated" but often makes for much more interesting and in-depth discussion. this is often the kind of conversation i want to have, i don't want to have to always pander to the least knowledgeable, especially when all these intelligent and interesting people have come together for such a brief time. a workshop list with only the most basic topics is as
"exclusive" to some of us as more focused and rigorous workshops are to others.
if we're always having intro workshops we'll always keep asking ourselves, "now what?" the point of workshops for "the initiated" is to answer that.
I mentioned elsewhere on the blog that I don't like to post comments unless I know who the author is, but you make a really excellent point that I want to include. I'd really like to know who you are if we know each other in real life.
I agree that the kink community probably doesn't need more introductory classes. We can and should challenge each other with rigorous workshops on specific topics—this is how kinky people can learn, grow and develop a support network together. And if that's what the event organizers were going for, then that is there prerogative. I don't expect us all to have the same goals all the time.
But because this event took place on a college campus and was funded by the college, I wanted it to be as accessible as possible; I wanted it to assuage the sense of being "non-initiated" and invite people in. As my partner likes to say, "You may not have thought of this before, or you may not have thought this was okay, but it exists; here it is." Some of Queery was, and some of it wasn't, and I should stress here that it was by no means limited to "kink" or BDSM topics.
I think there's a place for outreach, and a place for the "advanced" workshops that you talk about. And some people I know don't make outreach a priority at all.
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