Tuesday, December 06, 2005

Random Tangent #76

Alright, so I was taking a piss, yeah? and it came to me mid-wipe: homophobia seems to be more prevalent in men because it is a direct by-product -- a mirror, if you will -- of the way they view social relationships!

We've heard it for years. Sex, sex, sex, that's all men care about. Now, being a woman, I found that sexist and condescending. It is so not true that's all they care about, I'd defend. Intimacy is an all-pervasive human trait: we all need a shoulder to cry on!

All rah rah equality, and hear me roar.

Okay, but hypothetically, what if that's exactly how men perceive things? What possible link could it have with this irrational fear, near hatred, of homosexuality?

I was brushing my teeth with one hand while trying to hook my bra on properly with the other when another ah-ha! moment appeared. If all relationships were simplified into degrees of sexual interrogation or complex levels of courtship, then it is easy to see why men would feel threatened by the presence of a gay man. Besides living in the vain belief that gays have zero standards and would naturally hunt down straight geezers for some afternoon fellatio, I've always thought it, well, unreasonable to grow dangerously insecure even at the mere mention of l'homme sur l'homme action. But if relationships are perceived to be matter-of-fact, a dualism between predator and prey, then it seems obvious where this bigotry may stem from: a loss of power, forced to be lame, a victimized thug opposite the gaze. I'm sure there is also deep-seated sexism in there, more simply observed as an unwelcome reminder of the shame that comes with being placed in a woman's position. Ancient texts have been known to discuss sodomy in degenerative terms. Surprisingly, not in the context of a man buggering another man, but in the shame of being penetrated, to be on the bottom, to be like a woman and lose your badge of dominance.

Anyway, by this time, I was really late for class and still didn't know which pair of shoes to wear, so I opted to stand in front of the mirror for another good 10 minutes, figuring out why my clothes were messing with my proportions and leaving me paranoid.

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