"We want sexuality to be biological because then it's more about instincts and nature pulling people together. Choice isn't very romantic. Love is about surrender -- the absence of choice -- the irresistable pull of another body. We don't have faith in the rest of it because we doubt the permanence of anything we are capable of changing with our minds."
I just read these word by Riese, the founder of one of my favourite websites, AutoStraddle. I've always loved her writing about pretty much any topic. But when I read those words, they hit me so hard I couldn't breath for a couple seconds. It was written by her in a journal many years ago when she was still struggling with coming to terms with a label, any label, be it bisexual or lesbian or queer or anything else.
When I read those words, I flashed back to those months that I spent silently struggling with the fact that I had finally allowed myself to admit my sexual attraction to women. I vividly recalled when I "came out" to my brother; I told him "I'm bisexual." Because even though I had allowed myself to admit my same-sex attraction and had even (for the most part) reconciled my faith with that pull that I felt, I was still struggling with labels.
Oh, labels...
It's so easy to just slap one on the moment you feel you've "figure it out." When I first admitted my same-sex attraction I (somewhat reluctantly) labelled myself "bisexual."
Then I came to realize that being able to find men attractive doesn't mean that I could ever actually have a romantic relationship with a man.
Everyone, male or female, gay or straight, intersex, trans*, bisexual or simply queer, is capable of (and likely does) see beauty and attraction in every gender variety and presentation.
That doesn't mean that everyone is pansexual. It simply means we all have eyes and hearts and minds. We all have the simple ability to see beauty.
Once I realized this, I knew that the label I had ostensibly embraced didn't fit. And then because I was still struggling with how to reconcile my faith with my sexuality, and then trying to figure out how to come out to my family, I kind of gave up the question of labels for a while.
And yet...
When I came out to my family and then to the world on this very blog, I still felt uncomfortable embracing a certain label. I called myself "gay," because I felt weird, queer even, embracing the term "lesbian." I couldn't (and still can't to my sufficient liking) articulate why that label made me uncomfortable. I know that it has something to do with the stereotypes that surround that term. But I couldn't fully explain why it made me so uncomfortable when the term "gay" did not.
As I've more fully embraced the queer community and my place in it, I've come to see that the problem wasn't the label of "lesbian." The problem was the fact that it was a label. I saw "gay" as a broad category, not a constricting label. "Lesbian" was (and is) something very specific. And I'm not saying that I don't/can't fit the category of "lesbian," whatever that might entail. I do and I can fit. I am exclusively drawn to romantic/sexual relationships with women. It's as simple as that.
And yet...
There's nothing simple about attraction. And here's where I come back to Riese's words. When my parents and I were first talking about my sexuality, we kept coming back to the age-old (not really age old, but I digress) argument about whether or not my orientation, my same-sex attraction is a so-called "choice." We argued about whether it is something biological or produced through circumstances or, very simply, a distinct human choice with not much else playing into it.
And it makes the whole thing easy, simple, cut-and-dry if I simply claim that my orientation, my "label," is biologically-ingrained. It makes the argument simple.
But it'll never resolve anything. Peope can (and likely -- though I hope not -- will) alway argue about "choice" until the end of time.
But what does "choice" matter? If someone chooses (assuming there are no consent, coercion, or violence issues at play) to be in a romantic or sexual relationship with someone of the same gender, can anyone really argue that they have zero attraction to that person, that they are not in some way drawn to each other? Very few (if any) people choose, when deciding whether to pursue any form of romantic or sexual relationship (whether long-term or fleeting), to engage in that relationship with someone whom they feel no attraction to. That attraction may be physical, intellectual, emotional, or under any other category that draws them to each other. Because, for whatever reason, good or bad, we all engage in relationships with people whom we are drawn to. That "pull," as I'll call it, is the basis for most meaningful human interaction (by "meaningful" I simply mean those interactions that aren't purely task-oriented, i.e. any customer service interactions likely aren't very "meaningful," so there's likely no "pull").
I felt that "pull" to become close friends with several people who are still my best friends to this day long before I was ever willing to acknowledge my "pull" to them and others was more than just platonic.
I choose to embrace who I am; I choose to embrace this pull. But I think I've also come to a place where I'm not entirely comfortable with slapping a confining label on who I am. I think the only "label" that I could embrace is "queer." Because "queer," as it's been embraced and redefined by the LGBT community, is anything but confining. It's empowering and freeing and unfettered.
This isn't some very round-about way of saying that I'm really bisexual. That's not it at all. What I am saying is that I don't really care about the boxes that the typical label of "lesbian" would put me in to the extent that it forces me to accept the idea that who I am is immutable, biological, or based on anything other than my surrender to the pull.
I'm not sure I'm explaining this well. In fact, I know that I'm not.
But what I want to say, the gist of what I realized when I read Riese's words, is that accepting who I am, embracing the truth regarding the people whom I am attracted to and desire to spend my life with, was, to one degree or another, a choice. But it wasn't a choice about who I am going to be with. It was a choice to have faith. To surrender to that "pull," that desire, that beauty and joy and life that I feel both in embracing who I am and in acknowleding to whom I am attracted.
I believe that we, as humans, are meant to spend our lives in community with one another. I believe that we are meant to find people to spend our lives with. I believe most of us are supposed to find a person who complements who we are, who challenges us and pushes us forward, and excites us and draws us in and makes us whole.
And how could I ever be whole if I choose to spend my life with someone who will never do all those things? Who will never complete me or challenge me or draw me in? How could I plan on spending my life with someone for whom I know I will never burn with passion?
I'm still not sure how to articulate why it is that I'll never feel that pull towards a man. Maybe that's part of why Riese's words hit me so hard: because it forced me to recognize that it is a choice to have faith, to surrender to that pull, even though I can't articulate why. I may never be able to articulate why a man would never be able to make me whole in the same way that a woman can. But I know it. And I've accepted it. And I choose to surrender to it.
