Happy Bisexual Visibility Day!
I’ve been working on this corset project all month; hand-applying hundreds of Swarovski crystals is the most time-consuming way of adding magic I know of. And I’m waiting for some sky-blue Venise lace to arrive from England, then I think it will be finished fairly quickly.
Meanwhile, look what happened when I set it down on my work table next to my asthma med diskus and the wrapper from a MIlka chocolate bar I had just finished eating.
I got the idea to do this corset at this point in time because a couple of pieces I wrote this summer led me to a new understanding about myself.
I realized, living in the Bay Area, I’d committed a lot of queer erasure on my own life.
Being in the sex-positive, kink and queer community, I was surrounded by people who were living an out and proud life. All around, people were living and loving all genders, and there I was dating all these men. I felt like as a person who hadn’t had sex with a girl in this century, I was a “retired” bisexual. I often referred to myself as “the straightest person I know.”
Even when I had sex with a girl – a girl half my age! in a coffin that was in a dumpster full of dirt! on a street in SoMA! being livestreamed onto a nearby building for a watching crowd! for a sex art project!- in 2010, I still felt like people would call me straight.
It did not occur to me that a straight person does not make a split-second decision to have public, filmed strap-on sex with a same-sex acquaintance.
Or that a straight person probably wouldn’t have had a harness and a purple dildo in the trunk of her car. (What? I worked for a website that reviewed sex toys!)
But this spring some news broke that reminded me who I am.
I was so exuberantly happy about the official news of Maisie Williams’ casting in the New Mutants!
I am so thrilled that the movie is based on the Demon Bear story arc!
I even made Rahne and Dani fan art and when I posted it on Instagram the director followed me!!
Then I made this puppyplay fan art because fan art is a slippery slope!
My joy helped me remember that I am a person who has loved women deeply and been lovers with women.
The fact that I have married three men doesn’t change that. As I did some more writing and sorting of archives this summer, I connected with my memories of so many young loves.
I was incredibly blessed and fortunate to live my teens with my mom. I lived in New York City, where I could – and did- kiss my girlfriends on the street.
I identified very clearly and strongly as bisexual from age thirteen, and because both my parents were queer-friendly, I never felt the slightest discomfort about it. I realise what a privilege that is, especially in the 80s. Or even now.
i want to honor the loves I’ve had, and doing a very detailed and meticulous project of fabulous, excessive beauty seems a good way.
The endless hours it takes to hand-sew lace appliques, to apply hundreds of crystals, is a kind of meditation and awareness. The finished corset will be perfect to wear to events like Pride, the Lesbian and Gay Festival, and Christoper St. Day.
For now, here’s a story about just how queer I am.
My second exhusband was from Australia. In Australia, as in England, dairy cream comes in different types than in the US. The first time my exhb saw American “heavy” cream, he was appalled. “What is this runny shit?!!” He couldn’t believe we didn’t have Double Cream. He raved about how rich and delicious and thick and silky it was.
So when we went to Australia the first time, he wanted to make sure I tried some proper cream. We sorted it on a day trip in Melbourne’s outer suburbs. We were nearly in the countryside, driving, and stopped at a roadside antique store/teahouse. It was as cute and dainty a little cafe as you could possibly imagine. We went inside and ordered an afternoon tea, with scones and little sandwiches and of course, double cream.
It was a weekday, mid-afternoon, and the little cafe was filled with elderly ladies. There were actual lace curtains. The waitress brought the tea service and set down an etagere of scones. She put a little ramekin of creamy, gleaming cream on the table. I picked it up and licked it.
“Oh my GOD!” I shouted. “It’s like eating pussy!”