woensdag 15 november 2017

FEMMES TO THE FRONT

Last friday, i decided to visit a performance of a queer non-binary duo from St Africa, FAKA. It reminded me of all the other times out at night in non-queer spaces. Unfortunately, going to a queer performance doesn’t mean the space is safe for queer people. Unfortunately, when a space is not actively held safer by people aware of what it feels like to be queer in public spaces, it means that the space will be taken over by the ones with a sense of entitlement.

Yes, dudeboys, it’s about goddamn time you start to at least slightly know who you are, and act on it. You DON’T have the right to occupy spaces that are meant for expression and other things you have no clue about. ART is NOT YOURS. Nothing is yours.  
This is not an incident on its own. It is a last-straw kind of incident, a fragment of a structural problem called toxic masculinity.

Back to last night. It happened like i remember: drunk people were bumping into me, groups of loud men were gathering around me, and i felt awkward and out of place. The music was too loud to really talk and there was not really a dance floor either. Nevertheless i stayed, and felt strengthened by our expanding group, amongst which appeared to be some incredible dancers and i enjoyed their company.
The two people performing were queer POC, and so were most of the people in my group. Being amongst POC, enjoying that specific music genre, makes me always very aware of my whiteness. I try to reflect upon that, because i don’t want anyone to be ‘othered’, but i can’t deny the awareness of difference either. I think queer POC don’t have enough safer public spaces, so when i am with them, i try to make space, step aside a bit, without disconnecting from the group. I think this is an (even) more important event for them as it is for me, considering the intersectional perspectives. I am their queer like-minded, and try to be their ally in racial matters. This makes me feel even more humble whenever i am with them at a performance of Black-artists, compared to, for instance, the predominantly white performers i invite over from Berlin to perform at my parties. Problematic enough as it is, i know.

Just before FAKA came on stage, our group got slowly pushed away from the front of the stage to the side. I remember how this always goes, from when i was a young girl trying to catch a glimpse of my rockstar heroes. There’s dudes in their jackets, hoodies mostly, they stand right in front of you, and slowly start walking backwards. If you don’t feel like touching them or pushing them, you have no other option but to move back, until you notice your favorite spot in front of the stage is suddenly miles away and you are stuck between this dude and others behind you.
This time it was like that, but quicker. Suddenly all the queer POC were all the way at the side of the stage, beyond the sound system. In front of the stage were dudes drinking their beers, standing still. The concert started and the dude-space was taken over by more dudes and also what seemed to be cis white women. My friends didn’t seem to bother and gave it their all at the side.
I noticed a difference between their dancing and the movements of the white people in front of the stage. I was wondering whether what felt wrong was just their white cis-bodies being there, so (too?) close to the bodies of the performers, or also something else.. It was like they were treating those 2 bodies (black and femme) differently. Was this objectification, fetishisation, exoticisation? I decided to postpone this question and to talk about this with my friends afterwards.

I was dealing with my anger and frustration for approximately 20 minutes, then i managed to let go a bit, it got a little less crowded and i was able to still enjoy the concert. But goddamnit, it was a queer performance! Why was it dominated by non-queers, without ANY hesitation?
This is why the riotgrrl movement said: girls to the front! Let me adjust that a bit:

FEMMES (of any gender) TO THE FRONT.

Rotterdam by night has been my refuge for a long time. First, as a teenager, there were concerts of unknown alternative bands, then there were nights in pubs and bars, then came clubbing, and now … i guess there’s nothing (unless i organize it myself). The last couple of weekends have one thing in common: going home sad and angry and frustrated and scared, because i had nowhere to go. I tried (gay)bars, alternative cinema, pubs, clubs and last night a performance bar, for the ‘weirdly artistic’. Nope. I feel unsafe everywhere. What happened?

I guess i always felt unsafe, but my coping strategy was to pull up a wall, take drugs and/or alcohol, gather friends and go for it. It has always been a fight. I am done fighting. I don’t want walls, and i don’t want to switch off parts of myself to be able to deal with assholes. I don’t want to sedate myself to be able to go to a party. At least not every week.
And I haven’t even gotten into what happens when we exit the bars, clubs, etc. because that is mostly even worse, or a different type of bad. Yesterday, i was cycling only a couple of metres away from the venue and there were  some guys catcalling me and asking me if they could taste my gothpussy. There is no way out. I got home tired, frustrated, but mostly sad and scared. Did the world change, or did i? What happened? How do i create a new way to cope with the daily struggle and escape from it all for a while?

I am so very grateful to be able to host a queer party in my city where i hope the experiences of my community are different. And of course, this party stems directly from my experiences elsewhere. But is this really it? Is there nowhere I can go, WE can go, in a free time, just to enjoy a drink, company, and a dance? Not even a queer performance? Do we really have to FIGHT for a spot on the dancefloor? Cause when we don’t, we get pushed away, touched, groped, asked inappropriate questions, and walked over?

We deserve the means to create a steady bar, a refuge where we can gather in vulnerability. We want a place of our own, on our own terms, without having to negotiate, educate or get hurt first. A place that is there, no matter what. A place where everything is femme. Think Silver Future in Berlin, think a small WORM for Avantgarde-avant-la-lettre-only, The Hang-Out 010 for all ages and times of the day. It’s not a lot to ask. We can do the work. It’s our daily life.

FEMMES (of any gender) TO THE FRONT. RIGHT NOW.

donderdag 24 augustus 2017

How proud can Rotterdam be?

This is a story about my personal experience. I would like to make a navelgazing-disclaimer, because i know my story can never represent a whole group and i am claiming a space that is meant for more than just me. But i do think there’s a value in sharing personal stories as a start for conversations about shared experiences, values and meaning. I also think the latter is the core of a movement.


I was born and raised in Rotterdam, and i never learned to be proud. (because that’s not a very ‘Rotterdam’ thing to learn..) Until that one moment, at least. That moment, when i marched at ‘de Lijnbaan’ with my community--i learned how it feels to be fucking proud!
It was September 2015, not more than a month after my partner-in-crime and I told the organization of Rotterdam Pride that we thought the core of a Pride should be a march, a demonstration.  The director of Pride said to us: Ok, maybe you’re right, go for it!
And so we did. We created a Facebook event and invited everyone we knew. I didn’t really expect a lot of people to show up, and i was bloody nervous about the safety of us all, but those realisations came up too late.
So at the friday afternoon of Pride Walk 2015, i cycled to the city council with my orange megaphone and a pink wig, expecting a little cute gathering. 300 people came.


This is what it looked like:


We claimed the streets alright! With not much more than our bodies, a brass band and a whole lot of Hang-Out  spirit.
-We didn’t get any funds. We didn’t spend any money. -


After this, all cliches happened. Because the march was such a success, Rotterdam Pride took over and made it into something i think goes against everything it should be. They told me about KPN as a sponsor. I told them a big multinational could never be a sponsor of a political march. (if you don’t know why, read along or read more) I also told them we didn’t need a lot of money. I told them about funds I researched and we could get. But they went along with KPN and made the march into an event, with a stage and a VIP-tent. I did what i could by speeching about the importance of visibility of diversity not only for the masses, but even more for the young LGBT+kids out there who think they’re alone. I tried to get everyone into the VIP tent, and me and my friends dragged the pink elderly to the front of the march. The Hang-Out kids danced their asses off, like they always do. I was very proud again, but something was missing. We lost something. We didn’t get it our way, but we were forced into a structure of others, and our message got lost in skipping the political, critical stuff and heading directly to the ‘fun’ part of pride.


Now it’s time to claim the missing part back

In Rotterdam we are still figuring out if we can even be proud at all. Is Rotterdam Pride-worthy? And what should that pride look like?


Rotterdam has no policy when it comes to refugees, Rotterdam thinks all people in welfare are scum who don’t want to work, Rotterdam takes non-violent demonstrators to prison, Rotterdam does racial profiling, Rotterdam blames Islam for all crimes, Rotterdam is governed by fascists claiming they are the norm, Rotterdam bans people from their houses to welcome the richer ...i could go on for ages.


But, also: Rotterdam is the most cultural diverse city in the Netherlands, Rotterdam has all those people living together pretty peacefully every day, Rotterdam is honest, Rotterdam has a real skyline, Rotterdam is the beautiful underdog, Rotterdam has a superlovely LGBT+community (with the best queerparty, of course :)), Rotterdam is unpredictable, Rotterdam loves itself without arrogance, ….etc.


I love my city. I believe that this city made me who i am today and all the events i organize are made because of this city. I feel The Hang-Out 010 is one of the best examples of the thing i love so much here: it wasn’t an initiative constructed from abstract ideas and plans. It happened as we went along. We just started, and we invited everyone who was willing to support in any way. The first editions of the Rotterdam Pride happened the same way. It was amateuristic, it was messy, you had to pay attention to find it, and by the time you found it, it was already almost over--but we got people together and we made a difference, especially for each other. That’s my Rotterdam.


--Niet lullen, maar poetsen. We don’t need a lot of money for that.--


KPN- voel je vrij (feel free) --- The slogan of Pride Walk’s sponsor is so ironic, Alanis wouldn’t know how to deal with it. Are they aware of this? Do they know how right-wing Rotterdam politicians are spreading hate speech since decades already? Do they know they are advocating a freedom based on wealth and privilege? Are they aware of the fact that a lot of transgender people don’t feel free, no matter how many MB’s they get? Don’t they see how excluding and disrespectful such a slogan is? Do they really think money can buy freedom? Are they really that stupid??


I am afraid not. I am afraid they are just very smart in PR-strategies. The stupid ones are Rotterdam Pride, thinking this is the way to organize a Pride. Thinking a pride should be about ‘building bridges’ and ‘minding the gap’ between the community and corporations, between straight people in power and oppressed LGBT+people.
No, Rotterdam Pride. A pride is about safer spaces, about community, about sharing experiences, about finding each other within the safety of a pride-environment. That safety can not be held if you invite the oppressor! There is still so much violence and (micro)aggression towards minorities. Let’s hear them out first, before we ask them to be friendly with the aggressors.


Rotterdam Pride, this is your wake up call -- not sponsored by KPN.


The people from We Reclaim Our Pride, a Dutch queer collective which focuses on giving Prides back to the community, have formed a group in Rotterdam to take back the Pride Walk and turn it back into the political march/demonstration it is supposed to be. We will be joining the walk armed with banners, flyers and statements raising questions about the content, purpose and value of Pride.


I hope this will be the start of good talks and critical reflection, a re-defining of what Rotterdam Pride, and especially a Pride Walk, is. And more important: i hope we get to show the kids of Rotterdam that there’s a community waiting for them that looks hopeful, warm and relatable, but is also ready to stand up and fight for each other in solidarity. A community always ready to dance, but not before we stand united against pinkwashing, racism, discrimination, sexism, homophobia, transphobia, ableism, hatespeech, fascism, and all the other things nowadays so common in our shared experiences.


We need you! Want to join? Let us know: https://www.facebook.com/wereclaimourpride/


--------------------------------

Manon la Decadence studied Humanistics but is better know as a genderclown, hosting safer spaces in Rotterdam with their GenderBendingQueerParty and Get a Room! at WORM, and talks and support groups at The Hang-Out 010 and Adem Inn.

woensdag 2 augustus 2017

Love is love is love?

I am a relationship anarchist. looking back, i can say it started when i became an unsolicited part of date-culture, and me and my female friends (i thought i was somewhat ‘straight’ back then. it has been a long road, people...;)) went to bars where we only seemed to get together to talk about guys and to maybe check out other guys. I felt like i needed to date because i needed the stories. and so i did, ‘cause i was always willing to take care of the entertainment. :)

so I dated guys through datingsites. I hated this, because i have always hated the talks with straight cis-dudes in bars. so I mainly did lots of one night stands, which i liked better because then i could party with my friends first and just take home a stranger without having to listen to him a lot. and while i was in the middle of those moments with random dudes, i thought about the caricature i could create telling my friends about him, or about the clumsy funny situations or bad sexstories to share with them.
-it wasn’t all cynical, i even sincerely enjoyed myself a couple of times, mostly because the guy was funny and/or hot, and i couldn’t WAIT to tell them all some days later at our weekly gathering.-

date- and fuckstories are worth sharing. at the same time, i had by far the most fun-times going out with my friends. because my friends are the fucking best! they have always been. I have always loved my friends so much and thought they were the coolest bunches ever. I was a proud friend.
sometimes i even fell a bit in love with new friends, my so called ‘friend-crushes’. this could mean i was open for physical intimacy with them, other times this wasn’t really what i thought i wanted, or i just left it out there in the unknown/undecided. I just wanted to be close to them, cuddle them, they made me happy, they made me a better person, they were the ones i wanted to share my life with. and they still are, the same ones, and more recent ones.

this is why it is so confusing to me to live in this discourse of relationships where only romantic love and sexual contact is worth sharing stories about. I am non-monogamous, which means i am not limited to being with one partner to be intimate with in whatever way. then why is it that i am expected to share certain stories with some of them, whereas other stories don’t seem to be a danger or even worth mentioning?
I struggle so much with the distinction continuously made between relationships worth telling stories about and relationships taken for granted in narratives. I really don’t see why my lover should tell me all about their romances while they are not expected to compare our love to the intimacy i experience with close friends...

i would ask myself: is this story or relationship with the other person a danger to our relationship? no? then why present it like that, and at the same time leaving out other scenario’s of intimacy?
why should i tell my partner about that date i just had a coffee with and not about meeting my friend the other night and having the most life changing conversations?

I don’t want those questions, i want to break the hierarchy and the structures that create that hierarchy. I want small stories to become worth sharing, and big narratives to become less dominant.
I want relationship anarchy. poly is not enough. polyamory is an open door and that’s why relationship anarchy means so much more. of course we’re poly, we love our people, every now and then! we’re in a rhizome of encounters and relationships, and the ones that matter are the ones worth sharing.
and what matters is what we value as stories to be told.

we need to change the discourse of which stories are worth sharing, by upgrading the stories about our beloved friends to the same level as those with lovers and dates.

nothing is a danger to something else when it comes to human encounters, cause all love is different and equal. and don’t get me wrong, my jealousy can be bad, but is never about this distinction either. I can be jealous of everything and everybody. and that’s ok, i think, as long as i look at the jealousy as something that indicates some other fear i have. and my jealousy of things i can’t seem to have gets worse if i feel like the connections i invest most in are not worth as much as dates with lovers. I don’t think i am the only one.

there was a period in my life during which i was not only single, i also didn’t really have lovers or dates. people asked me: how’s your lovelife? and it made me feel so uncomfortable. I started to reflect upon this uncomfortable feeling, and i found out it was there because i knew they were asking me about dates, lovers and romance. I had no stories to tell, which would make my lovelife shit. but it didn’t feel like that at all. I felt very loved, by my friends and community. I also sometimes had sex or playdates with friends, and i felt like those were a bit more worth sharing than the ones i had a platonic friendship with. that felt not right either. like being naked with each other got you to a next level in the hierarchy of connection. sometimes yes, maybe, but other things do that as well. so i decided to try and answer this question differently. it went like:
“How’s your lovelife?”
“Pretty awesome. I feel so loved. I had the best conversation yesterday with my friend D, we talked and had dinner and drinks and we hugged goodbye and it made me feel so good.”

I want dates with my lovers and friends where i want us to ask each other: how is your love life? and i want this question to be about my friends, my lovers, my partners, and the beautiful strangers. love is love right?

dinsdag 6 juni 2017

BOI >> BXI


some days later, i gained some knowledge about the word BOI. I read this information as a response to a question a friend of mine posted on facebook:

‘how is ‘boi’ black cultural appropriation?’

here's the info:

not so long ago, i would have instantly changed my self claimed identity and profile picture and everything i ever posted about the word to correct myself. I would have been ashamed for not knowing and wouldn’t want anyone to see it, for they might not like me anymore.
however, I don’t believe this ‘self-censorship-and-shame cocktail’ is the attitude that helps anyone. nobody knows it all, and even though i try to be as open minded as can be, i still have limited outreach and i can’t see all the sides of the elephant at the same time.

so, with this writing i want to reflect upon my feelings and thoughts related to the term i was happy to claim as part of my identity, one day not-so-long-ago. after the dynamics of reflection and talks with others, i hope i can make a decision, as wisely as possible.

a short summary of the sources i found on the origins of ‘boi’- it’s in my own words, which is important because i need to really get this:

whereas the term ‘boi’ is used in different parts of the queer/LGBTQ+community in order to create a different manifestation of masculinity (from masculine lesbians to feminine gays and submissive whatevers)---

‘boi’ originates early 1990’s from the black community and served a totally different purpose, “it was more likely a play off the racially charged meaning that has long been associated with the term, given the long history of whites, calling adult black men by the diminutive term “boy.” black men reclaimed the word and changed it into ‘boi’.

-I am still curious about how widespread this word is known amongst the black male community, worldwide. because:
 personal sidenote: early 90s, i lived a great part of my life in the midst of communities of colour, or i'd rather say in one mixed poc-community. I never picked up on the term ‘boi’ back then, but hey, i was also called ‘wigger’ (i am not even going to write down where this comes from), without this being offensive for anybody at school back then. and i was a fan of both boyz II men and the backstreet boys...who knows what weird bubble i was living in!
times change, we have to as well. thank goddess. I lived in rotterdam, it might have been, or must have been, a totally different reality from racially mixed schools or communities elsewhere, during that time. of course now i know that even though i was from the same neighbourhood as my black/poc classmates, and even though my parents had more or less the same income as theirs, and we got the same education, there must have been moments when certain doors remained closed for them, whereas for me they were wide open. again: back then, i didn’t have a clue. we just didn’t talk about that. or my poc classmates didn’t talk about it with me...which makes me sad, and wish i'd done better.

anyhow: it’s a good thing that i have to go back to those times and think about it again. and it’s good that i know now where the word ‘boi’ originated from.
but now what?
is it an inappropriate word for me to use, as a white person? or is it merely a positive thing that words lead us to do research on other minority groups, as long as we’re open to do so? and given that, does doing this research make it more appropriate for me to keep on using the word? or should i change it, knowing what i know now?

the following part might be hard for people to follow. please ask if you are curious and don’t get it.
I love it when people call me ‘boi’. it feels playful, it excites me, and it suits me ‘cause it’s bratty, and faggy. it’s the more cheerful and easier way to say ‘fag with cunt’- which also has appropriation glued to it, but since i don’t identify as woman and since i just AM a fag, i already made up my mind about this and continue using it. My faggotry comrades agree. ‘boi’ also has a kinky element, which i also like. I want my lovers to be able to call me boi, because it sounds just right.

still, i want to respect and acknowledge the cultural heritage that sticks to the word, and the sensitivity it can cause for others, with different stories than mine.
>>>

so..
since it is all about the spelling (you can’t hear the difference between boy/boi/bxi/bxy when you say it), i decided to change the spelling. i think the queer community needs to change and update their labels continuously, this is my contribution for now. the ‘x’ has been used in a variety of forms already, in attempts of making ‘old’ words more genderfluid - seems pretty good to me! i hope that with this reflection and minor change i can show the process that comes with trying to take into account all 'other' minorities, and how complex this can be, but also: how necessary. respectful feedback always welcome.

xx

BXI.

zaterdag 27 mei 2017

BOI

last night i went to a party organized by some friends, the House of Boys. i would like to share a story about that night. (first of all: dear friends/boys from House of Boys--it was a great party, i am very proud of you and this is in no way meant to be criticism)

i speak with a lot of gay boys: about their coming out, about public spaces, harassment, gender expression, etc. i love doing that and it makes me happy and proud to see them gather and have fun together, creating their own safe space. i also love the fact that a lot of them come up to me because they see somebody they apparently want to talk to. and i love how they perceive me as this queer person who doesn’t give a fuck. but in fact, i do give a lot of fucks (pun intended) and i am still very vulnerable and in search of my own gender identity and expression. i also thinks this never ends. as i said to one of the boys last night: it gets better. but being vulnerable about being seen in the way you want to be seen and getting hurt because stuff people say or do...it never really stops. it’s inherently human.

as you can see in my profile pic, i had the word BOI* written on my chest. this was a risk i took, i realize now. it seems i value the word a lot more than i thought and i underestimated how writing something this precious on your body makes you some sort of diy target. i came out again last night, every second i was there. at first, it felt good. then something happened and it hurt like hell. picture me, some friends, and a stranger coming up to me:

‘So why doesn’t this say BOOBS?’

the moment someone says something to me that points out my body, especially when it’s being perceived as a (sexualized) woman’s body, i want to disappear. no, i want to scream. i don’t know, it makes me angry and sad and there’s so many feelings that i just don’t know what to feel or say or do anymore. so i stuttered:

‘Because i am not particularly fond of my boobs.’

this is not really true. i have had to deal with a lot of body image issues during my life, but my boobs (i don’t like that word but it was said and i don’t know a better word) have never been part of this. i don’t LOVE them, they’re just there, as a part of me. and they’re small, so they don’t bother me a lot. and, most importantly, they give me pleasure.
but at this point of the ‘conversation’, i was still processing the fact that someone perceived me as a cis woman with boobs, and the fact that i was approached as if they were the most notable aspect of my presence.

Why are you showing them off like that then?!’

i wanted to say that i wasn’t showing off anything, but that i just like to show skin with loads of glitter on it and my chest happens to have those two things people call boobs, but that for me they’re just a part of my body as a whole and not necessarily a special, striking part. i wanted to say that i wrote BOI on my chest to kind of show this to others, to make sure that people DON’T perceive me as cis woman and WON’T point out my boobs. (also: free the nipple!)

i didn’t say much though, i just mumbled to my friend that i was going somewhere else and i walked away, leaving the person in question behind in an indignant state.
my night was ruined. i tried to be my own kind of ‘boi’ at the House of Boys, but i suddenly i couldn’t be anymore. i felt exposed and unsafe. i put on a shirt and tried to process what happened, inside my head**. this writing is what came out.

i am sharing this because i want to point out not only that i am not the fearless and untouchable creature some people might think i am, but also that i experience myself, every day, how violent the gender and beauty standard prison can be, and how important it is to create safer spaces for all things queer. i refuse to believe i was the only one that got hurt last night. i am sure there were more genderqueers there, who experienced some kind of dysphoria because of something that happened. and i want them to know that i need them, and they need me.
i want to expose the vulnerability that comes with being queer, and i want vulnerability to be seen as strength, and as a force that can drive away toxicity. so...


hey bois, femmes, fags: let’s talk.
and while i am at it, hey partypeople: be careful with your comments and take care of each other.

*I use the word BOI to identify myself as ‘fag with cunt’, which is the gendercocktail i feel comfortable with most of the times, and stems from the way `boi’ is used in

1. the lesbian community, a young transgendered/androgynous/masculine person who is assigned female at birth and presents themselves in a young, boyish way; a boidyke; often also identifies as genderqueer.

2. in the gay community, a young gay man;


3. in the BDSM community, someone who presents themselves in a young, boyish way and is usually a bottom/submissive.

**of course this incident doesn't stand on its own. i am using it now because it was the last straw. other things had made me stagger and shake earlier, this made me trip.

zondag 5 maart 2017

shit people say: 'if i were into women...'

#shit people say:


“If i were into women, i would definitely fuck her/you.”


Please stop saying this. Do you want to know why? Maybe you have heard people say it as well, but it didn’t offend you. Maybe you even said it yourself once. Then please, read along. I will explain my kindly demand based on several occasions in which i heard somebody say this. Disclaimer: those people were of all kinds of gender and sexual orientation.


This one is not very hard to explain. You are assuming the person you would want to fuck is a woman. Would it be different if they had a penis, though? (just asking)


  1. It is abusive language and objectifying.
You can not just decide who you are gonna fuck, without the other person wanting this too. This is called consent, and this sentence assumes so little of it that i think we could call it abusive language.
Also, by saying this, you are making an object of the person you are talking about. I am not even gonna explain this point.


  1. It is mostly based on beauty standards. (and therefore objectifying again, but i already used this argument)
This has to do with why i chose to use ‘women’ and not ‘men’ or both. Like i stated before, i heard people of all different kinds of gender and sexual preference say this, but all of them were talking about women. It probably has been said about men as well, but i think there’s something different going on then, which has to do with beauty standards.
If you are not attracted to a certain gender, in this case women, ask yourself: why is that? And doesn’t this label come with the condition of wanting to fuck only a part of the gender spectrum, which is not women? So why would you assume something that far outside of your world of sexual fantasy? And why would this person then all of a sudden cover your needs? I think it has to do with standards of what is ‘fuckable’, set by media, mostly. Of course women are very much framed into a certain beauty standard, so if they can live up to this, they must be fuckable. You have to be very strong and willing to resist the standards of which woman is fuckable set by media, hollywood, and everything else they call capitalism. Those sources forced upon us also determine what is fucking, look at point 4.
Example: gay boys who are in denial and try to be with women mostly fall for the tiny, pretty, classy girls. This is totally suitable for the picture perfect they are trying to uphold, and less of a threat than the rebels with a strong opinion or the deviant bodies amongst females. When they come out and are comfortable with their sexuality they usually don’t have a problem anymore with the latter categories, on the contrary.


  1. It is fucking binary.
And i use the verb ‘fucking’ here on purpose. Fucking binary, i could write an essay about it, but i want to get to my last point, so let me put this as shortly as possible by just asking a lot of questions: fucking is not easily defined. What is fucking? Is fucking something you do when you are horny? Or can you do it without being horny as well? Is fucking when you are both naked? Or can you fuck with your clothes on? Does fucking mean (a form of) penetration? Do you kiss when you fuck? Does fucking always involve genitalia? And when they are involved, is it always called fucking then?
Please define ‘fucking’, because i couldn’t, and wouldn’t.
What i do know is when i did fuck. In retrospect. It just felt like we fucked. I wouldn’t know why and what was it that made this fucking, but i know we did. What i also know is that when i am intimate with a person i never thought of as ‘fuckable’, it can suddenly change. Or even when we are not intimate, and something just happens and i see them in a different light all of a sudden. Or when i am just aroused or excited by the situation and we are all willing to go for it.
I believe there are fuckable moments, not people.


  1. It hurts.
I am a fag with a cunt, and it hurts if gay men tell me they would fuck me if they were into women, or if i were a man. It hurts because i feel like a forever lonely queer when they tell me this, and also because of all the things i mentioned earlier. And mostly because i know i am not a woman, not in daily life, but certainly not when i fuck.

Please queer the fuck up, my friends!
Thanks for reading this, it’s appreciated.
<3



dinsdag 13 december 2016

jouw pijn mijn pijn

Jouw pijn is niet erger dan mijn pijn he?

Deze zin spookt sinds vrijdag j.l. door mijn hoofd. Het is zo veelzeggend en maakt me zo boos en bang en verdrietig.

Los van de context, wat zegt deze zin je? Ik denk dat je er wel een zekere kleinering in kunt lezen, vooral door het woordje ‘he?’. Hallo, weet je nog, mijn pijn is er ook he? Niet vergeten he? Ik heb ook pijn! Het klinkt als een schooljuf die gepest wordt door haar leerlingen. Jongens, ik heb ook gevoel he!

Je kunt je misschien iets voorstellen bij deze zin, een situatie waarin dit wordt uitgesproken. Tussen 2 geliefden wellicht, of tussen 2 mensen die allebei hoofdpijn hebben, maar die ene klaagt er heel de tijd over, en die ander luistert daar al heel de dag naar en is het nu wel een beetje zat.
Stel dat dit de context is, wat vind je dan van deze zin? Terecht? Of een beetje kinderachtig? Je kunt immers ook gewoon zeggen: ik ben je geklaag over je hoofdpijn nu wel zat. Of: wil je nu even je mond houden, want ik merk dat mijn hoofdpijn hier niet echt beter van wordt.

Jouw pijn is niet erger dan mijn pijn, he?

Oke. Als ik nu vertel, dat het gespreksonderwerp in de context waarin dit werd uitgesproken, racisme was. Wat stel je je er nu dan bij voor? Ik vermoed dat je al aardig in de buurt komt.
Dan is het nu tijd dat ik mijn narratieve beschaving loslaat en zeg wat er op mijn hart ligt.

Deze zin komt namelijk van een ex-raadslid (vrouw, wit) van Leefbaar Rotterdam. Iemand die vaak een platform krijgt in de media. Ze sprak het uit tegen een zwarte vrouw, die zojuist had verteld dat zij regelmatig te maken heeft met racisme, en hier een voorbeeld van gaf. Mevrouw Leefbaar maakt regelmatig soortgelijke dingen mee: ze wordt namelijk wel eens aangezien voor een racist! Weten wij wel hoe dat voelt??

En ja, in dit gesprek keerde zij zich richting een zwarte vrouw, en sprak de woorden:

Jouw pijn is niet erger dan mijn pijn, he?

Een hele ruimte vol beschaafd links Rotterdam zat erbij en keek ernaar. Niemand zei iets. Toen zij vervolgens een pro-Trump betoogje hield, implodeerde ik zowat, en trok ik mijn mond open. Ik deed het te laat, niet goed genoeg, maargoed: de rest zweeg. Ze veegde mijn woorden van tafel en nam weer de ruimte in, keer op keer, met elke keer dezelfde woorden. Zonder gene. Volledig comfortabel.

Stop. houd je mond. Stop alsjeblieft. Houd je mond. Zorg dat je pijn je kwetsbaar maakt, en voel dat, en kom daarna terug, voor een prettig gesprek.

‘Ik ben zo verdrietig. Help.’