Let’s be clear: Plenty of fine women were kissing girls and liking it before Katy Perry and her cherry-Chapsticked partner made it the subject on everyone’s lips. But, for better or worse, that wretched tune ends, and we are left with more questions than answers. Does she end up with the girl? Does she go back to that boyfriend who she hopes doesn’t mind? Does she wake up hungover to all sorts of pictures on the Internet? I don’t know. What I do know is that there are plenty of girls who kiss girls and like it. There are also plenty of boys who kiss boys and like it. My question is: Then what? Does that make me gay? Might I still be straight? Should I decide I’m bi?
These are questions that can’t be answered in a neat three-minute song. For that matter, they can’t be answered in a 1000-word column. But although I may only scratch the surface, I will propose two responses to the questions “I Kissed A Girl” provokes: First, the sexual identity labels we use (“gay,” “straight,” etc.) are not as clear-cut as we might believe. Second, forming a sexual identity is a process which takes time and experience.
First, the descriptors of sexual identity we adopt and assign to others are not based on concrete definitions; they are social constructs. Sure, there are dictionary definitions. For “homosexual” (to which “gay” defers), Webster’s states, “1. Of, relating to, or characterized by a tendency to direct sexual desire toward another of the same sex. 2. Of, relating to, or involving sexual intercourse between persons of the same sex.”
Seems reasonable enough. But notice there are two distinct definitions there. Already, we have a problem; those two definitions do not always exist together in a single individual. What of the married man who has a “tendency to direct sexual desire toward another” man, but does not act on those desires? Gay? How about the woman who kisses girls and likes it, but goes home to sleep with her boyfriend at the end of the night? Blazes. Foiled again.
Human beings spend enormous amounts of effort narrowing complex things like sexuality, race, etc. into neat little boxes we can check off on a form. However, the components of sexual identity are numerous and subject to change. HIV/AIDS activists have recognized the ambiguity surrounding these labels for years, having long shucked the terms “gay” or “homosexual” in favor of the less open-to-interpretation, “men who have sex with men” or MSM. In an article on MSM who do not identify as gay or bisexual, the Aug. 7, 2008 New York Times quotes Dr. Hector Carrillo, professor of human sexuality studies at San Francisco State, “Sexual identity is a very complex thing. We like to think that once someone figures out their sexual attraction, they will fit into the categories we’ve created. But life isn’t like that.”
Another complication of our attempts to rigidify the boundaries of these labels is the fact that for most of us, sexuality is fluid and will change throughout our lifetimes — much like Katy Perry’s pop music career. Before she was so dangerously close to the sin of kissing girls, she was a Christian pop star (no, really). Thus, when “I Kissed a Girl” uh, came out, the Christian community had an exceptional incentive to take notice. Adam R. Holz wrote a scathing review on www.pluggedinonline.com, a subsidiary of Focus on the Family — whose primary purpose is to “[shine] a Light on the world of popular entertainment.” Holz calls the song “…the latest high-profile message to young women and men that our sexuality is a malleable commodity that can be reshaped at will. … [Katy is] living down to a damaging, demeaning stereotype, one that our culture has already branded as ‘girls gone wild.'” According to Holz, Perry’s lyrics promote the “dangerous” and “incorrect” idea that sexuality is flexible.
First of all, aren’t many of these Focus on the Family-type organizations using the converse of that argument to explain the existence of gays, lesbians and other degenerates in the first place: by the willful reshaping of the straighthood, we’re all born with into the hedonistic homo lifestyle? In all seriousness, however, of course sexuality changes throughout the course of the average 75-year lifetime. Of course our desires, preferences, enjoyments and beliefs change from day one to day 25,000, for self-identified straight and queer folks alike. When I was in high school, I was president of my school’s equivalent of the “True Love Waits (and Doesn’t Smoke, Drink or Download Music Illegally)” Club. Enough said.
This sexual fluidity many of us experience is evidence that forming a sexual identity takes time, effort and experience. We cannot predict everything we will like, dislike, want, etc. Many will argue there is always some inner knowledge or desire which contributes to the sexual choices that we make, and I don’t claim we can only learn about our sexual selves through experience. But we cannot fully learn about our sexual selves without it.
Some of you might argue that sexual identity is just something that happens to everybody along the way, without much thought or effort. I disagree for two reasons. First, all of us can look back on our sexual lives and pick out some “big moments.” The first kiss. The first orgasm. Whatever. These are experiences that shape our sexual identities, and even though they might not have felt like “work,” they still only came with time and experimentation.
More significantly, however, those who identify as straight are far more likely to make this “it just happens” argument than those who are not. When we think of any kind of identity marker as something that’s just “natural,” that’s an aspect of identity in which we’re probably privileged. If our sexual identities fit with our “cultural norm,” then we might not have a lot to think about. Those of us who do not fit into the norm do a lot more thinking; our experiences are constantly denigrated or challenged by those who assume their experiences to be universal.
All right. Even if you buy my argument that “gay” and “straight” and “bisexual” have no concrete meanings, many people still feel totally comfortable using terms like “gay,” “lesbian” or “straight” to describe themselves. Are they foolish conformists who don’t recognize the inaccurate and constricting connotations of these labels?
Nah. The solution to the complex maze of sexual identity is to realize that no one knows more about your sexual desires, preferences and behaviors than you do. Thus, you have the right to argue with the way(s) you choose (or do not choose) to describe yourself. Self-identification is about empowerment — the power to select words we use and don’t use, and the right to feel powerful using those words. The choice might not involve just our sexual selves. Tristan Taormino, a renowned queer-identified author, editor and lecturer, comments on her own self-identification: “…Queer to me is not just about who I love or lust, but it’s about my culture, my community, and my politics. The truth is, even if I were with a heterosexual guy, I’d be a queer dyke. And trust me, after being with me, he wouldn’t be so straight.”
And no one has the right to tell her otherwise. No one has the right to tell any of us otherwise. No matter who we’re kissing or how much we’re liking it.
Erica Andrist is a senior facilitator with Sex Out Loud. She gives major sexual props (such as handcuffs) to Stefanie A. Jones for her help with this column. If you’d like her to answer your burning questions instead of waxing philosophical about her own, email her at [email protected].
