Gender-less, gender-full, gender-free

Last night, I danced Swing (& some Polka) with one of the gay men from our chorus. 

In the evening we had another volunteer community singing event where some of us participated; then we went caroling for local businesses in a queer district in the city; and then we finally went to one of the most beloved gay bar’s in town where we would kick off the holiday season singing around 9pm. We all ended up at the gay bar early, though, like drawn to a magnet — which in and as of itself was already a special thing for me since I have some very personal (& partly bittersweet memories) connected to this particular gay bar. As we waited for our time to sing, we just hung out like a big group of friends at the bar and some good music was playing. And I spontaneously started dancing in my corner. So one of the men from our chorus next to me, who is one of the older guys with whom I feel most comfortable and familiar/close, asked me if I could dance Swing since the song that was playing at that moment had that kind of rhythm. 

I used to dance Swing. And I used to love it. Over a decade ago, when my ex-partner from that time & I were trying to salvage our relationship, one of the things we tried was partner-dancing. We started with Salsa and then moved on to Swing, which I much preferred. At the time, I was in a very mono-heteronormative relationship with a cis-man who did all he could to turn me into a “girl” — probably the most suffocating and traumatizing experience for me after the brainwashing I got from my biological family. So of course, I learned to Swing-dance as a “follower” (although Swing dancing nowadays isn’t very gender-rigid, which is one of the things I always liked so much about it). I was able to go Swing-dancing a couple times in California, and it was fun, but I was still presenting and thus was till perceived by the world as a “girl”. So until the other day, partner-dancing has always had a cis-hetero taste to me because that’s what I had experienced until then. 

When the gay man from our chorus asked me if I could dance Swing last night, I said “Yes!” enthusiastically, spontaneously, instinctively, without even thinking about it — “just as long as you lead”, I added. And so he did. He led. And really well. And I followed. And really loved it. 

There we were on the dance floor, two gay guys dancing Swing — and dancing really well. 

I’ve always loved to see gay guys partner-dancing together. And last night I was one of them. 

I can still dance Swing and I can still dance it as a follower and I can still love it — actually, I can love it even more now because I’m not only more aligned with my true, inner self but also because the outer world sees me as my true self. I know every person in that bar last night just saw me as a gay boy dancing. 

But in some ways it’s even more than that for me. There’s something so wonderfully gender-less, gender-full, and ultimately gender-free for me when I dance — there always has been but now that my inner & outer selves are more aligned, it’s even more so. I felt the same way last Saturday, when I went out dancing with a transmasc friend for their birthday and I wore a very gender-bending outfit and danced it all out. The feeling I have now in these moments is of pure energy, pure joy, of healing community and healing movement incorporating all genders or no genders at all for me. When I’m dancing now I have no gender, or I have them all — or it doesn’t even matter — I’m just embodying pure energy & joy. 

Swing-dancing with my fellow gay-men’s-chorus member last night was magical. On the dance floor I didn’t think about my gender — only a couple hours later, driving home, I realized it had been my first time partner-dancing as a (gay) boy. In some ways the gay-boy hookup experience was similar for me. They’re both important experiences of deep intimacy (& vulnerability) for me. Whether they realize it or not, both of these guys have shared with me a moment, an experience, that to me means the world: an experience that is at once affirming of my gay-boy identity while also transcending gender.

Magical “first times”

In the past four days I’ve had half a dozen “firsts”, so many wonderful first times that I’m still reeling from it. 

My first performance (albeit small & partial) with the gay men’s chorus. 

My first concert singing with my “new” — low or “male” — voice. 

My first gay-boy hookup. 

My first queer Friends-/Thanksgiving with so much queer joy and warmth, including snuggles and music and dancing. 

My first time going caroling and bringing holiday cheer to strangers. 

My first time partner-dancing as a (gay) boy with a gay man. 

It’s hard to say which of these “first times” was the most important or beautiful: they’re all equally meaningful and magical to me, in different ways. But they somehow all contain and spread a liberating, joyful, warm queer energy, a queer sense of more “fluid love”. And they all talk to those parts of me that have been shut down for so long, in fear and/or solitude, to those playful, joyful, childlike, liberated, fun parts of me that want and need to run free like a river bursting from a dam.

“Soul meets body”

To Andrew: 

“ 

I want to live where soul meets body

And let the sun wrap its arms around me

And bathe my skin in water cool and cleansing

And feel, feel what it’s like to be new

‘Cause in my head there’s a greyhound station

Where I send my thoughts to far off destinations

So they may have a chance of finding a place

Where they’re far more suited than here

I cannot guess what we’ll discover

When we turn the dirt with our palms cupped like shovels

But I know our filthy hands can wash one another’s

And not one speck will remain

I do believe it’s true

That there are roads left in both of our shoes

But if the silence takes you

Then I hope it takes me too

So brown eyes, I hold you near

‘Cause you’re the only song I want to hear

A melody softly soaring through my atmosphere

Where soul meets body

Where soul meets body

Where soul meets body

And I do believe it’s true

That there are roads left in both of our shoes

But if the silence takes you

Then I hope it takes me too

So brown eyes, I hold you near

‘Cause you’re the only song I want to hear

A melody softly soaring through my atmosphere

A melody softly soaring through my atmosphere

A melody softly soaring through my atmosphere

A melody softly soaring through my atmosphere 

“ 

[by Death Cab for Cutie]

“Where soul meets body”

I think the main reason — concrete, tangible — why it is affirming for me in such a unique and intense way to have sex with a gay man is because in that moment, like in no other, I am being seen and accepted — concretely, tangibly — as a boy regardless of what I have between my legs in an arena where genitalia usually play a substantial role and with a person who is assumed (at least in the clichés about gay men) to “want dick”. 

It’s there — in that concrete, tangible confirmation that my lack of a penis is not an obstacle to my being seen and liked as a guy (& a “hot guy”) — for me that’s “where soul meets body” (as Death Cab for Cutie sang)… 

Magical affirmations and learning to let go

Yesterday, I had another wonderful — joyful, fun, validating, affirming, liberating, empowering — experience, also connected to the gay men’s chorus in which I sing. 

We did a small performance for the “lighting of the lights” event on the façade of the City Hall building. We sang ten of the sixteen songs from our upcoming holiday show, outdoors in the wintry weather. It was a volunteer performance and of the singers who signed up only a few of us were actually selected to perform (only 6-8 singers per section), due to space/size restrictions of the stage outdoors.

When I signed up to sing for this event, I hadn’t realized that only a very small number of us would actually be singing so when it dawned upon me that I wouldn’t have the “usual cover” of thirty other voices in my baritone section but only half-a-dozen apart from my own, I panicked. I was a nervous wreck from Monday until the show yesterday afternoon… But then I eventually relaxed and I really enjoyed myself & the whole experience. 

The atmosphere was joyful and relaxed. The more experienced singers, when I said I was super nervous, reassured me and said, “Just have fun!” And then other singers began commenting on how they couldn’t remember many of the lyrics and were reviewing them together and I suddenly realized I knew most of the lyrics better than many of the other guys! During the show, we messed up the lyrics for a couple of the songs (although I’m pretty sure the audience didn’t notice) and for one of the songs that I feel very confident about I sang out assertively. 

It took a while for me to relax and get into my voice but not as long as I had feared. Once the pianist starting playing and our voices harmonizing, the nervousness was gone and what remained was the glow of the shared experience, of being part of this together, of doing something fun and joyful. And I could hear my voice, yes, due to the small number of us, I could really hear my voice and hear how it mattered and also hear how well it fit in. The joy and affirmation I felt from standing on a stage, outdoors, in the city, in front of strangers, as one of the guys/singers in a gay men’s chorus, and hearing my voice actually sing as low (& sometimes as high) as the voices of these men, of these other gay guys, was wonderful: one of the most magical experiences I’ve had. 

That and the gender-bending gay guy telling me that I’m a “hot guy” were showers of wonderful affirmations for me yesterday. But these experiences within the gay men’s chorus are something even deeper for me, somehow: interacting with these guys, these persons, who are able to be playful and let go and have fun, who embody (& model for me) different ways of “being a man” is healing and liberating for me. Now that I feel safe with them, because I feel accepted and liked by them as I am, I am able to slowly let go more, to be more playful, even more expansive with my own gender-expression, just leaning into joy and fun — something usually so hard for me to do… 

The asexual hookup

[Trigger warning: sex/sexuality.]

I am asexual. 

I know I keep saying this over and over again. But I feel I have to — and this irritates me and pains me — because I’m feeling invalidated by people over and over again, with some of the usual gaslighting that ace people so often get, e.g. “maybe you just have to find the right person” or “but if you have a crush, you cannot really be ace/aro” or “isn’t this just disingenuous of you?” 

No, it’s not disingenuous of me — it’s actually disingenuous (and/or hypocritical and/or lacking self-awareness) of all those other people to not realize, or admit, that having sex is not always/necessarily connected to sexual attraction. In fact, a study conducted in 2007* (“Why humans have sex”) identifies 142 reasons why people have sex, divided into 4 ‘macrofactors’ and 13 ‘subfactors’; some examples are the following: 

– Physical Factors, incl. Stress reduction, Pleasure, Physical Desirability/Attraction, Seeking out a new experience; 

– Achieving (a) goal(s), e.g. Resources, Social status, Revenge, Utilitarianism; 

– Emotional Reasons, e.g. Love and/or Commitment, Expression; 

– Insecurity, e.g. Increasing/Improving one’s own self-esteem, Duty/Pressure, Maintaining (a) partner(s).

Of all these reasons, the only one that really pertains to sexual attraction per se is “Physical Desirability/Attraction”. 

Personally, I have had sex motivated by “Physical Desirability/Attraction” only a couple of times, or with a couple of persons, in my entire life (over the course of a quarter of a century). Most of the times that I’ve had (& still have) sex it’s out of curiosity, because I’m seeking out a new experience — and that goes for most of the things I do in my life, honestly, so in that way sex is no different for me than traveling or trying out a new food or new sport. I’ve also often had sex for pure and simple libido, stress reduction and/or pleasure, and I find that really holds for autoeroticism. I think I have had a few sexual experiences out of love and/or commitment. And I’m sorry to say that I have also been in one relationship where the reasons for sex were more along the lines of duty/pressure and/or trying to maintain the partner — something I’m definitely never, ever going to do again! 

I’m sure that many people who have sex, regardless of their sexual orientation or inclinations, could say they had/have sex for at least two or three different reasons on that list above… and probably reasons that having nothing to do with sexual attraction (& maybe not even with love)… 

Yesterday, I had a perfectly asexual hookup and I’m still glowing from it. It was with the gender-bending gay guy from chorus and one of the most liberating, validating, and affirming experiences that I’ve had in a long while (at least connected to my body). And also very new — there’s the “seeking out a new experience” reason. I don’t feel sexually attracted to this person. I think he’s cute, I’m fascinated by their ease around gender and gender-bending, it’s refreshing and even liberating & empowering for me. And I feel safe with him. I can feel the interest or attraction from them towards me and I feel safe to respond to him on a level of physical & sexual intimacy. That sense of safety has always been one of my main guidelines in my sexual experiences. I have a very good “gut sense” for who is safe and then I’m able to explore (i.e. seek out new experiences for myself) with that person because I know instinctively that I’m safe. The “gay men” world is still almost completely unknown to me and still something that I’m very curious about. And there’s also still so many things I want to explore about myself — how I feel in this “new” body of mine at different levels; my gender identity in different instances and with different people; gender-expression, play, pleasure…  So hooking up with this gender-expansive gay guy is another — and in many ways new — way for me to explore things about myself and about worlds that pull on my curiosity. There is hardly any difference for me between a hookup like the one I had last night and going on a beautiful hike in a new place (by myself): both experiences are rooted in a desire to explore, motivated by curiosity, open to “whatever it may bring”; and both experiences give me joy, pleasure, freedom, along with a sense of validation and liberation of different parts of myself. 

And to be brutally honest, both experiences probably also have the same chemical effect on my/our brain(s)!

*[”Why humans have sex” by Cindy M. Meston & David M. Buss, Archives of Sexual Behavior, Volume 36, issue 4, August 2007, pp. 477-507.]

The importance (& novelty) of platonic human touch

Last night, I cried a lot. Silent tears, on and off.  

But I didn’t cry alone. I was within a loving community and with two good friends. And along with the tears there were lots of hugs, warm embraces as we held each other’s hands, as we held each other in our arms, standing or sitting together. 

It was a blessing to be there all together, to get that human touch, to co-regulate with these two transmasc friends. And the positive effects go beyond the sharing & co-regulation in the sadness or remembrance or communal celebration of last night: these two transmasc friends are similar to me in their need or wish for platonic human touch — be it through dancing, contact-improv, or movie&snuggles night. And we said explicitly that we should do this more often with each other. And I think that we will, that the circumstances in our lives and/or the level of friendship we have reached are ripe for that type of connection now. 

I like that idea, although it also feels unfamiliar (& a little scary with my new transmasc friend whom I still don’t know very well). 

For so long, and especially since COVID, I have been craving platonic affectionate human touch that is neither sexual nor romantic… And now I’m starting to get it: from some of my older queer friends with whom our relationship has gotten deeper and more comfortable; from new queer friends with whom we are intentionally setting expectations and expressing needs/desires clearly; from some of my closer cis-het male buddies/friends with whom we are opening up to new levels of intimacy and/or vulnerability; with guys in the gay men’s chorus. 

It’s not like I’m constantly touching people or being touched but even a little is more than zero and even this little bit I’m getting feels good because it’s mutual/consensual and spontaneous and easy-going. And while I’m enjoying this change (or the beginning of this change), it also feels weird to me, maybe because it’s so new or somewhat unfamiliar or unexpected… In some ways, I cannot fully believe that it’s a possibility for me; I’m afraid to jinx it or to lose it. 

And I also wonder: how come now?

Is it finally beginning to happen now because I am starting to loosen up, to open up at last? 

TDOR 2024: we shall not forget

[Trigger warnings: transphobia, violent deaths, hate crimes, shooting; grief.]

I’m still feeling a complex and intense mix of emotions from last night’s Trans Day Of Remembrance celebrations — and tired from another night of poor sleep as my mind couldn’t settle. 

I went to last night’s event with my oldest/closet nonbinary transmasc friend and with a new, common, transmasc friend (the latter was one of the performing artists for the celebration). 

There was food, poetry, music — local artist sharing their talents, a sing-along. 

There was the “ceremony”, i.e. the reading of the names of the victims of transphobia: over thirty of them this year in the U.S. (that we know of), most of them people of color (& mostly transwomen); many in their twenties & thirties; some teenagers even… the youngest only fourteen, a child. 

There were candles and photos and promises to not forget. There were trans flags and all other pride flags. And there were paper cranes: white, baby pink, and baby blue. 

There were tears and hugs, embraces and (hand-)holding. 

There were words and glances and nods. And there was silence. 

I cried a lot. Silent tears, on and off. I cried for them, for me, for us. 

[Yesterday, was also the sad two-year anniversary of the hate-crime shooting that happened at Club Q in Colorado Springs on November 20th, 2022.]

Trans Day Of Remembrance 2024

This is my third Trans Day Of Remembrance in Colorado. And probably the one I’m feeling, and celebrating, the most — at least, until now. 

The first one, in 2022, I was sick/recovering from COVID. 

Last year, TDOR 2023 almost passed unnoticed for me because I was so swamped with work. 

This year, I’m fully tuned in for TDOR 2024. Partly because of the new, horrific political & social reality. But partly — mostly, more positively — because of where I am in my life now: more confident and comfortable in my own nonbinary trans identity; surrounded by queer, nonbinary, trans people and communities at different levels of closeness and intimacy — some very dear and close trans and/or nonbinary friends; my nonbinary transmasc housemate; a neighborhood full of queer, and many specifically trans and/or nonbinary, persons; the gay men’s chorus; the people with whom I collaborate for the inclusive, gender-expansive activities for trans/nonbinary athletes. 

I will be celebrating TDOR with a new transmasc friend this evening within community. There will probably be a mix of intense emotions coming up, but I’m looking forward to it and feel ready for it.