I know boys who want to be girls, who act like girls, who fuck boys. I know girls who want to be boys, who still act like girls, who fuck girls. I know boys who are boys who fuck them as well. I know girls who are girls, who like boys and girls, who fuck them both. And I know a few people who can combine all the above but because I’m late with this column, I’ll skip the explanation. Just use your imagination.
Here’s a mostly harmless anecdote for you: A few weeks ago I went to see Lazlo Pearlman’s show, http://www.gendelicious.com/, during the Edgy Women’s festival, http://www.studio303.ca/events_edgywomenfest_e.html.
It takes a lot to really blow my mind…hmmm…no it doesn’t…but let’s just say it does…and his cabaret-burlesque show certainly blewed it…blowed it…whatever. I miss my editor.
Lazlo was once a lesbian who eventually became a gay male…putting aside his incredible aptitude for sexual fluidity (another column for another day) the gender fluidness in itself is enough to keep my little brain cells working for a few more weeks to come. Now some of you may already be in the know about Lazlo, but for those of you who aren’t, did I mention that Mr. Pearlman in all his gorgeous gay male sexy big bicep glory does not have a penis? Nope. No penis, only a beautiful pink vagina. Yeah…go ahead…think about that.
While you’re pondering, I’ll tell you another little anecdote, this one from my childhood. I grew up with three younger brothers, and it’s safe to say that I was a tomboy. I played with their toys; hated wearing pink, still do in fact; refused to wear dresses, which is why I wore a tuxedo to my prom; cried with rage when my mother bought me my first training bra; wrestled with boys; beat up boys, but only the bullies; and belched like a trucker.
For those who know me, there’s no need to comment on how I put the verb belch in the past tense.
While I still would not classify myself as being a lady, I’ve been getting in touch with my feminine side for over a decade. I like wearing dresses; I occasionally wear makeup; I’m obsessed with any hair product that can actually make my hair look even better than it usually does; I cried with joy when my breasts grew big enough to go beyond a training bra; and instead of physically hurting bullies, I now take the time to understand why they behave the way they do, and then beat them up emotionally.
I never said I was a nice feminine girl.
Now back to pondering about Lazlo and his vagina. While Lazlo was singing and dancing his little heart out, I completely forgot that he had once been a woman and a lesbian. I was so convinced that I was watching a gay male perform, that when he took off his pants and stood naked in front of his audience, my jaw dropped. All of his mannerisms, the way he spoke, the way he moved had me completely convinced that I was in the presence of a gay male. And you know what? I was.
We spend so much time trying to find ways to learn to be comfortable in our skins, we sometimes forget that all of our experiences, our journeys, and the lessons life and the universe are trying to teach us, influence our fluidity in regards to our sexuality, our gender, our tastes, and even our values.
Lazlo learned that he could be whoever he wanted to be without conforming to any model of how society defines male and female, and now he’s perfectly comfortable with who he is.
And one day, when I grow up, I will be too, in all my girlish boyish belching glory.
