This is perhaps the best known song produced by The Smiths. However, it speaks volumes when applied to the memory of LGBTQ history:

“I am the son and the heir of a shyness that is criminally vulgar . . . of nothing in particular . . . how can you say I go about things the wrong way? I am human and I need to be loved, just like everybody else does” (Morrisey / Marr).

Aside from the fact that I love this song*, listening to it (coincidentally, I am) parallels what my peers Sam, Allan, and Derek just presented on the subject of “Queering the Arts.” Throughout history, expressions of the LGBTQ community (hereby referred to as “community”) have been lost inside the memories of those past and of those who will follow; individuals who identify as LGBTQ have been forced into obscurity; to deny their own, true selves; and to have their queer identities  erased and denied. It was easier for those of the past to find expression through the arts  ̶  whereby they were able to express their true identities, the context of their expression was only operational under the pretense that their expressions of themselves were figments of creativity. Allan likened it to a glass window in which each side wanted something that the other side offered, but could only safely obtain by passive observance: for the audiences, they were curious about the queerness presented and for the presenters, they were able to express themselves.

In more recent times, as our community became more visible, queer art has become a means of communication and activism. For example, the banners we made while working with ACT UP in NYC are a form of activism in art: see here and here. We’ve come a long way from the days when our community had to “act” and pretend in order to express ourselves; however, despite having a much more prominent voice than in days past, there is still much work to be done. Unfortunately, sterilization is still occurring, as is discrimination against members of our community.
As an American, I am as familiar with the (debatable)”high moral standards” of the United States as I am with the reality of what actually happens, and that is of how sex, particularly heterosexuality, sells. In few words, there seems to be a torrid love affair between hypocrisy and moral standards for the country at large, but that is a topic for another time. In NYC, I saw more members of the community openly and proudly identifying themselves than I’ve ever seen in Indiana, even at Indy Pride (which, by the way, those of us on the trip who are from IN are missing right now), although I regret to say that I still heard whispers of intolerance and discrimination. Amsterdam was the most open and accepting city we visited (in my opinion )  ̶  the first day we were there, our server proudly exclaimed that “[they] were the first to legalize gay marriage” when she asked what we were doing in the city (other than trying to avoid all the bicycles). I saw queer expressions everywhere – particularly at night- as well as features of lesbians in photography as early as 1880 in the Sex Museum. In Paris, although the right for same-sex couples to marry was passed just last year, there is a good amount of opposition to it and there are people who are still fighting against it.

However uncomfortable expressions of sexuality may be for some, it is becoming more acceptable for respectable persons to explore such expressions as part of history and art, regardless of their own identification. How else could we visit the Musée de l’érotisme (Museum of Eroticism) as part of a scholastic endeavor to uncover the hidden history of our community? In Paris, one can buy a museum pass, which they can use at the Louvre, or the d’Orsay, for example… and if this museum was not a respectable museum, there would be no possibility at all of it being associated in any way with a world class museum. In Amsterdam, the Sex Museum was in no way, shape, or form affiliated with the Rijks Museum. The fact that some affiliation is allowed between the Louvre and the Museum of Eroticism shows that there is a willingness to open up some sort of dialogue. In searching for queer in the museum, I saw many depictions of lesbian expression, but relatively few of male expression. I actually saw more works depicting gender ambiguity and mixed-sex bodies than I did of gay males. After discussing my observations, I understood the overwhelming heterosexual and male influence on the collection: the reason for the larger number of works depicting lesbian sexuality is because it is not necessarily a celebration of lesbianism as a beautiful thing, but rather, as fetishism.

 

It is important to note here that much of the idea of power and structure amongst genders and sex are social constructions in order to better understand the context of my observation. Lesbians are not as much a threat to the male hierarchy, as it were, because there is no male penetration; so, it is just another way to sexualize the female body for (implicitly heterosexual) male gratification. Males engaging in homosexuality is viewed as a threat in this way, since the power structure is thought to be disrupted. In ancient times, notably with the ancient Greeks, sex was used to exert power, particularly with the sexual relationships between older male citizens and young adolescent males, but there was no stigma attached unless a male citizen were to penetrate another male citizen, and then it was frowned upon because it feminized the penetrated, thereby emasculating him. Adolescent males were acceptable to engage in sex with because they were essentially female in the way that they were not yet fully grown men, so being penetrated was acceptable. Fast-forward to the present: we are more accepting of various sexualities and have the knowledge to deconstruct the realities attached by the past in order to break the cycle of exclusion, but there is still a lot of stigma in the world today regarding any sexuality other than heterosexuality. There has been discrimination, fear, and hatred directed towards the community throughout time, and the only real reason is a very basic human sentiment: we fear what we don’t understand. However, the beauty of humanity is that we have the power to change this for the future.

In closing, this will be the last blog detailing our travels to the not-so-far-away NYC and far-away Amsterdam and Paris. As a self-proclaimed francophile (meaning that I love the French language and yearn for the day I am fluent), I particularly enjoyed Paris. I am, however, ready to return home. Between getting food poisoning for the first time in NYC and visiting the Catacombs of Paris, I miss my significant other, our beautiful cat (we call him our son), and falling asleep together. I haven’t been away from my little family for this long in quite some time, but I am returning with wider eyes and a responsibility and preparedness to have those difficult conversations regarding sexuality. Queer is in the air and it’s everywhere: “We’re here, we’re queer, and we’re not going anywhere!” (exact origin unknown). In order to create a more inclusive world that is accepting of our community, it is absolutely necessary to scrub all of the whitewashed surfaces in order to find the gems of truth hidden beneath. The final stop on our trip together as part of our exploration of the city was the iconic church, Sacre Cœur (Sacred Heart). I’ll leave you with an image of the view. If you look hard enough (zooming in helps), you can see a rainbow on one of the buildings in the center.

Until next time,

<3 My-Lan.

*Morrisey intentionally writes ambiguously with respect to gender – read more here.