Just call me Twilight Sparkle: a word on bronies

From the "Friendship is Magic" TV series

I feel like the internet has been keeping a magical secret from me. A pop subculture revelation waiting in the (Fluttershy) wings. This gender bending gem is of course, the phenomenon otherwise known as bronies.

Another online miracle sprout of the infamous 4chan, the term “brony” (bronies is the plural) refers to adult guys that are massively into My Little Pony. Specifically, bronies revere the Friendship is Magic genre of MLP (an animated TV series), not so much the plastic ones I remember from childhood (which seemed slightly more demure, and a lot less like Powerpuff Girls). Some say that brony-dom is just another ironic fad, but then again, these fellas are pretty hardcore. They’ve even started holding “Bronycon“- a convention for dudes to share their love of the sparkly horses and magical unicorns (etc) of the show.

A brony in action

Bronies don’t seem to fit any stereotypical gender models- they embrace their proclivity for wearing the rainbow wigs and tribute wings of their favourite characters, while still donning their baggy jeans and gaming-related tees. And although some haters may label this “super gay“, the whole thing doesn’t seem aligned with any particular sexual orientation. There are even reports that a brony, upon finding a like-minded man, will fist-bump and say “bro-hoof!” with his compadre.

Apparently the appeal is the “non-combative fandom” and peaceful friendship story lines. In fact the Executive Producer of the series (up until recently) Lauren Faust (she is so cute BTW), is being hailed as some kind of pony queen/god. It seems to me that Faust is preeetty much the internet version of Judith Butler.

The only thing that worries me about this whole situation is that by all definitions, I am out of the brony club. Turns out women watchers of the show are dubbed “pegasisters“, which seems like 100% lamer if you ask me. I’m just not sure why in amongst all of the brony challenges to normative masculinity we have to get all gender-binary all over again. But there you go.

So let’s keep watching this web-wide fanboy wonder unfold- but I implore you, always challenge the broninormative gender assumptions you encounter.

The difficulty of speaking about “women”

I went to a Women of Letters event yesterday – a fantastic evening listening to some well-renowned women (including the fabulous Melanie Tait and Eva Cox) read out letters on the theme of re-writing history. After the letter-reading session, there was a panel on “divergent ways” hosted by Scissors, Paper, Pen of Canberra. But when one of the curators of Women of Letters, the talented Michaela McGuire (the other being the spunky  Marieke Hardy), was asked a question about letter-writing as gendered, I was surprised at her response. Michaela suggested that perhaps letter writing and the desire to express oneself with pen and paper (or computer and paper!) is more of an innately womanly pursuit. Furthermore, Michaela pointed out that yes, Women of Letters was made up of mostly “female” speakers.

Now, Michaela has stated in the past that she questions whether she calls herself a feminist or not, and has got some flack for running predominately woman-focused events. So given this acknowledgement I wouldn’t want to call Michaela out for her essentially essentialist statement on women. But it did remind me of the struggle that I often personally encounter with talking about “women” versus “men” as well as the problematic interchange I often make between the words “woman” and “female”.

de Beauvoir: espouser of the sex/gender distinction

Simone de Beauvoir famously stated, “One is not born, but rather becomes, woman” (in the new translation by Constance Borde and Sheila Malovany-Chevalier). Following de Beauvoir, feminist writers have been keen to highlight the difference between sex and gender (of course not everyone sees it that way). On the surface of things, this argument amounts to the idea that sex is in reference to a determination male vs. female made at birth based on genitalia, while gender involves a process of acculturation, learning the expectations of what it means to be a “real” woman or a man (e.g. real men wear suits not dresses). Of course, then Judith Butler came along and posited that sex is caught up in a similar process, but that’s another story…

The point is that for the most part, much feminist writing has attempted to draw a very clear distinction between sex and gender- i.e. “female” and “woman” carry very different meanings. So while we might want to say that femaleness is biological (though this is questionable and hardly clear-cut as JB points out, and as intersex conditions demonstrate), the category of woman holds the weight of a history of socialisation involving certain gendered roles.

Then again, transgender/trans* came along and reminded us that there is a lot more to gender than just socialisation- some people desire transition from one sex and/or gender to another (or something in-between or outside of). PLUS trans* reminds us that gender isn’t just about masculinity or femininity- e.g. you can be assigned female at birth, become a man, but present as feminine (see Femme FTM). So what does it really mean when we say “woman”, “feminist” or we attempt to categorise what “women” are like? And doesn’t an awareness of the sex and gender distinction render attempts at answering any of these questions really really difficult?!

Academic and poet Denise Riley expresses her apprehension toward identity categorisations, reminding us that terms fluctuate in meaning over time and context. Nevertheless, Riley acknowledges, “While I can’t think why I’d want to utter that chilling phrase ‘speaking as a woman’, I can think of situations in which it could be my lot to cough pointedly from the back row, ‘But what about the women here?’” While I hold many concerns about using the term “feminist” (noting its tricky devotion to the gender binary), I still fill with rage, for example,  when I think about the under-representation of women in the philosophy discipline (see my philosophy women tumblr here, they do exist!- Did you know that a bunch of Pythagoras’ teachers were women? No? Well, they totally were!).

Toilet door symbols remind us that being a woman is about wearing triangle dresses

On so many recent occasions I have found myself struggling to express my feminist sentiments in non-essentialising ways. Certainly relying on the interchangeability of the terms “female” and “woman” is something I trip up on. When talking about even the most general things, such as the difference between dating men versus dating women, I am prone to making the most lurid generalisations that blur the line between sex, gender and “natural” traits. And, while I know I am guilty of this, I still cringe when I hear women speaking about their natural proclivities for sharing, being supportive and caring, etc. While we continue to promote these ideas about innate difference, we in fact produce them.

Are women more prone to letter writing? Maybe. But surely that is not something we are born with.

What a Bust: Sexy Dressing Revisited

Something funny happened to me this week. Bettina Arndt contacted a mailing list I am part of, asking for research related to an article she wanted to write on the way women dress. Arndt said she was interested in writing about the paradox that when women dress sexily they don’t necessarily appreciate men paying them attention. I didn’t think much of it. Being a PhD student, I hardly felt qualified to be giving advice. But later I came across what seemed a very relevant text – Duncan Kennedy’s Sexy Dressing – so I emailed it to Arndt, to which she replied with thanks.

One of Arndt's controversial books

I then had a dawning realisation that Arndt isn’t just another academic, she’s that infamous and controversial sex therapist and columnist. I remembered where I had heard the name before – Arndt came to the Australian National University last June to promote her book What Men Want (spoiler: “more sex”), which was met with much protest from students. My inner feminista gave a little squirm.

But then, I thought about the content of Kennedy’s Sexy Dressing that I had emailed to Arndt (see also Kennedy’s Sexy Dressing, Etc). Written from a legal perspective, Kennedy asserts that there is power in women dressing provocatively, but promotes a sex-positive approach with an aim to reduce the sexual abuse experienced by some women that do dress sexily. Kennedy’s work has not gone down well with a number of feminist writers, given his endorsement of women’s eroticism for male heterosexual pleasure (see Janet Halley’s discussion of some reactions to Kennedy in Split Decisions). Basically Kennedy asserts that men have a stake in reducing sexual violence, abuse and crime, “so we can get on with playing within while evolving the [sexual fantasy] repertoire”. All in all I felt fine about sending this controversial sex- and desire-positive piece over, given that it so strongly asserts the need to differentiate between sexy dress/play and sexual abuse.

This morning I turned on the television to find Weekend Sunrise’s presenters discussing Arndt’s article “Busted: the politics of cleavage and a glance” appearing in today’s Sun-Herald (I wouldn’t normally watch this show, but I was waiting for PopAsia to come on, naturally). Arndt’s article basically frames women’s sexy dressing as a power often wielded unwittingly, that keeps men in “a state of sexual deprivation, dealing with constant rejection”.

Arndt's formula: women put it out there, men ogle

Unlike Kennedy, who frames his entire discussion around concerns of violence, Arndt only briefly touches on the issue, stating that “of course” men shouldn’t be sexually violent towards women because of the way they dress. The article paints women (especially the “young” women she refers to) as the naive commanders of sexuality, with sexual weaponry at their disposal (read: boobs). Men don’t fare any better, with Arndt stating that men are “lousy” at picking up on non-verbal cues in courtship (apparently all they see is boobs).

Aside from the binary-stereotype-reinforcements going on, there are so many problems that I have with this article that I can barely express them. Here’s a few: 1. It reinforces the idea that women are the only ones that put sex on display and that men are the only receptors of this (ignoring that men might also be negatively sexually objectified or that women might  be more than just “givers” of sexuality). 2. It doesn’t seem sex positive– rather than making some suggestions about how we might healthily negotiate the sexual power that Arndt accuses us of, she effectively condemns it, “with so many women now feeling absolutely entitled to dress as they like”. 3. It overlooks the many other directions sexuality might go in, not just orientation-wise (women can find women sexy too), but issues of domination and how these might figure in conversations about sexual power are not discussed.

An image from Chicago's SlutWalk

4. Last but not least, it only vaguely considers sexual violence and really does seem to suggest that women “invite” attention through the way they dress- yet I get wolf whistled at by men even when I’m dressed in tracky dacks and a baggy old t-shirt, it’s disgusting and I hate it!

I am deeply disheartened by this article, and can only hope that it invites greater discussion about sexy dressing in a way that moves beyond the simple and sensationalist stereotypes that Arndt presents.

What Disney Princesses taught me

I came across this today-

A reading of what Disney princesses teach girls

Sure, I have considered the rather un-feminist implications of a lot of the princess story lines before. But I’ve never really sat down and thought about it. My reaction to this picture was to think that I could see how these readings were plausible, but that for me, reinforcing hetero-norms is not the first thing I think of when I see the princesses (which is odd, cos that’s basically all I see in everything).

Okay, on the surface they all want their prince to come, etc, etc. And they’re all feminine and beautiful, and fairly non-diverse (until Princess Jasmine, Pocahontas, Mulan and Tia cracked the scene). While I distinctly remember adoring little mermaid Ariel growing up, my mum loved Ursula, and was pointed to note that not all short-haired plump women were actually sea witches. Looking at the older princesses (Snow White, Sleeping Beauty, and Cinderella) compared to the newer ones, there is a marked difference between their representations. Princesses have had a lot more ‘tude since the 1980s.

Totally.

I went back and watched Colours of the Wind from Pocahontas. It reminded me that, wait a minute, these chicks kicked ass in these movies. The prince thing was always just a distracting part of the story line for me, and I barely remember the prince characters. While the princes were all pretty generic (charming, rich, handsome…*yawn*), the princesses had exciting lives, amazing magical friends and, most of all, adventurous spirits. But, I guess that’s why it’s kind of depressing when they all end up “settling down” in the end.

No doubt, you could write a feminist tome deconstructing these animations (I’m sure they’re out there). Still, I can’t help looking back fondly at the Disney Princesses I grew up with. And I’m really not waiting around for my prince to come. Why? Sorry, too busy exploring the shore above, painting with the colours of the wind – I want much more than this provincial life, I want adventure in the great wide somewhere….

Total synthesis and the cult of the natural

"Unaltered" food is a big selling point

Yesterday, I got into a discussion about genetically modified crops. My perspective was that while one might have ethical concerns about the practices of companies such as Monsanto, this is different from having an issue with genetic modification (GM) itself. This apparent blurring of lines between the science of GM and the corporatisation of GM products was most clearly evidenced in July 2011, when Greenpeace activists whipper-snipped a GM field trial in Canberra. Despite CSIRO publicly stating that they have no known links to Monsanto, Greenpeace defended their actions on the basis of possible dangers to humans.

But it seems to me that there is a fear underlying the GM debate that is about more than concerns for human health. In a time when many people are anxious over the future fate of the planet,  it seems we’ve also developed a fetish for the natural. On the surface of things, this doesn’t sound bad. In fact, words that might spring to mind when we think of “natural” include healthy, normal, organic, green and well being, not to mention those mental images of makeup-less women standing under waterfalls in luscious rainforests. This is probably somewhat due to the plethora of advertisements that claim their products are good for you because they are “100% natural“. Ironically, by definition something can be deemed all-natural, even if produced through an entirely synthetic process (chemical synthesis of organic molecules).

But chemicals aside, how can we ever grasp a rigid definition of the natural?

Railing against the purportedly unnatural is often brought up in arguments against bodily modification such as plastic surgery, including sex affirmation surgery. In these debates, surgery is posited as a mutilative act. Apart from the religious idea that the “body is a temple“, I’m not sure where this idea of the sanctity of the body comes from. We alter our bodies and appearance on a daily basis- we put makeup on, we cut our hair, we wear different clothes, do or don’t exercise, eat different foods, pierce our ears, or even put coloured contacts in our eyes. While these effects may not be as skin deep as surgery (with tattooing as a modificatory middle-ground), our appearance and the way that we intentionally shape it are an important part of who we are in the world- who we show ourselves to be, for others to perceive.

Corsets: body modification back in the day

The differences between GM soybean crops and having a mastectomy for sex affirmation are obviously very very vast.  Some people may have radically different opinions about GM versus surgery. Granted, there are also ethical considerations to be made on these subjects that warrant discussion. However, I think that public reactions to these issues often reveal deep-seated sentiments about what is natural (and whether that is good), which need to be acknowledged as separate biases.

One day I imagine that we will be able to grow our own spare body parts, making modifications all that much easier. And perhaps by definition, through this act of synthesis we will consider it natural…

What’s with all the fat hate of late?

Tara Lynn- a so called "plus-sized model"- reminding us that on some women thighs are allowed to be bigger than ankles!

Currently on Australian television, there are at least two anti-fat (fatphobic?) shows screening. Sure, this kind of thing has been around for years. But amazingly, they seem to be reaching new lows on the encouraging body-hate front. Yes, this year’s Biggest Loser program (as if it isn’t bad enough that they make everyone’s stated aim to be a “loser”), is all about the “singles”. That is, those people who supposedly can’t get a date because of their weight (cos like, no one wants to date a fattie right?).

Since when did being weighty make you unloveable? It seems like a lot of the people on these shows have major self esteem problems, that actually probably go hand in hand with their weight gain due to some other reason. But rather than dealing with those kind of underlying factors, the aim of the game is to lose lose lose and be a normal skinny person – hooray! And rather than getting fit and stopping at some still full and voluptuous weight, these people are encouraged to keep going until they practically fade away. And I’m pretty sure that for most people, a “normal” weight range (whatever that means) is actually pretty vast. I downloaded an app the other day that told me I could literally put on another 20 kilos and still be a “healthy” weight.

It turns out these TV shows sure ain’t the only fat-hate going down at the moment. The recent Strong4life campaign being run in Georgia USA has been advertising a serious war on children’s weight. Apparently you can’t actually be a kid now if you’re fat- as one Strong4life tagline tells us, “being fat takes the fun out of being a kid.” This argument reminds me of the whole “we have to correct intersex conditions or those kids will be incessantly teased”. It seems to me like when we run campaigns that say what’s okay and what’s not okay, or perform surgeries to reinforce what is “normal”, well, actually that’s bullying- through defining what is normal in the first place.

Queer fat femme standing against weight-hate. She's pretty much the bestest femme ever. Check her out at queerfatfemme.com

Somewhat hearteningly, there has been a backlash against Strong4life called “Stand4kids” (not to be confused with the terrifying missionary group of the same name) which aims to target weight bigotry (you can join them on Facebook here).

When it comes down to fat-hating TV (and lets be honest, most of the film and television industry is pro-skinny), I think we have to take a hard look at ourselves and ask where the enjoyment for these shows comes from. Maybe it’s interesting to watch before and after journeys. Maybe it’s that we want to watch people struggling to exercise and eat well, just like we all do. Or, maybe it’s just that we want to watch some “freaks” get tortured and shamed for being “different”. Oh dear.

But the more I look around me, the more I notice curvy chicks oozing confidence and being proud of their bodies. And why shouldn’t they be. What I wouldn’t give for some cleavage…

David Bowie in Tights: How My Childhood Got Saturated in Feminism

Not even Jareth's sparkly blue hair could detract Sarah from her mission

Something BLINDINGLY OBVIOUS occurred to me today. The Labyrinth is overtly feminist. If you haven’t seen this 1986 fantasy wonder film, stop right now and get onto it (you are literally committing a crime to your brain otherwise). Spoilers ahead, so seriously go rent that thing now!

Seen it? Okay then.

My feminist realisation is a lot overdue, given that I watched this film probably every week of my childhood. Sure, I noted the whole, “you have no power over me” thing, but I always took a very vague feminist reading – that it was simply Sarah’s (played by Jennifer Connelly) affirmation that she is a strong woman that controls her own destiny. Today while riding my bike home, for no apparent reason I suddenly thought, wait a minute, that whole darn thing is a feminist parable! I’m really far behind the times with this one (see here for an excellent feminist de-construction). This film is quite literally the opposite of any James Bond (on that note, see Judith Halberstam’s queer reading of Austin Powers here).

Jareth (played by a spunky David Bowie) says to Sarah at the end, “I have reordered time, I have turned the world upside down, and I have done it all for you”. But Sarah doesn’t stand for it. Jareth may have given Sarah all of the material things in the world (as apparent in the scene with the trash lady) and will even give her “the child” she seeks if she gives into his demands- but she doesn’t owe him anything, she’s a free woman! And she does get the child she wants anyway (a metaphor for the possibilities of single parenting?). The film also sees Sarah become the belle of the ball, the fantasy Cinderella, but she pulls that apart too- she wants something more in life. So, if Jareth and his goblin-man-kingdom represents the patriarchy (who knew oppression could be so hot and androgynous in lycra!), Sarah sure does smash that thing down.

Sarah looking rather bridal at the beginning of the film

But then I started to worry, what about the very end of the film? Sarah might not need a man, but she does need her friends- what to make of this new form of codependency? Perhaps problematically, Sarah’s friends are all male. But then again, Hoggle is not your typical hero-man (he’s ugly and well, gross), Sir Didymus is an effeminate fox, and Ludo is actually pretty non-gendered apart from the masculine beast voice (and everyone’s reference to him as a he). They might be a rag tag bunch, but clearly the end of the film doesn’t leave Sarah as an independent woman. Adding to my concern is Sarah’s loathing for her step mother (cos step mothers are evil, duh), and the use of Jareth turning into an owl- a symbol of protection and intelligence.

Nevertheless, I still love this film, and can’t help thinking that it pre-wired some feminist questions in my brain that have probably significantly affected the way I see the world. Plus David Bowie is ten kinds of awesome, and I’m sure, a feminist too.

Getting real

"He doesn't smell right!" he exclaimed. "He isn't a rabbit at all! He isn't real!" "I am Real!" said the little Rabbit. "I am Real! The Boy said so!" And he nearly began to cry.

Yesterday I saw a production of the children’s classic, The Velveteen Rabbit. The story is about a little stuffed bunny’s relationship with a young boy, and the soft toy’s desire to be a “real” rabbit. After much time, the velveteen rabbit does become real in the boy’s eyes. At the end of the story, a fairy gets involved and the rabbit becomes really real, and goes to play with the other bunnies in the woods. The particular theatrical version I saw opened with something wonderful like, “realness isn’t how you look, it’s something you hold in your heart”. It got me wondering, what does it mean to be real?

The other reference to “realness” that came to mind (apart from Pinocchio), was Jennie Livingston’s documentary Paris is Burning. Set in New York in the late 1980s, the film explores the world of underground drag-ball culture. At these balls, gay men and trans* folk (of predominately African American and Hispanic backgrounds), would compete performing various categories of “drag”. Several categories necessitated the effective portrayal of “realness”– for example, Butch-Queen realness was judged on whether the competitor could pass as a heterosexual in the sub-categories of executive, thug, pretty boy, etc. Below is a clip from the film about realness:

For the participants in drag balls, demonstrating realness was a way of showing your potential, if boundaries such as race, class and gender didn’t exist. However in Bodies that Matter, Judith Butler discusses the way in which doing realness creates the boundaries of realness itself- the rules of realness are reinforced. Butler teaches us that getting real is tricky business.

Aside from the drag-ball scene, the realness issue seems pervasive across so many experiences of sexuality and gender. As discussed previously, it’s easy to find oneself in a situation or community where you feel that you don’t meet the “criteria” for acceptance. The trans* community is very often subjected to the rules of realness, as this piece by Tobi Hill-Meyer reminds us (e.g. “you’re not a real transsexual woman if you don’t wear dresses and skirts all the time“).

Haters gonna hate

But back to Velveteen. I think we can take a lot away from this story on the subject of the real. When the rabbit encounters some “real” forest bunnies, they mock the toy for having no legs (“fancy a rabbit without hind legs!”). And while the fairy at the end assures the velveteen rabbit that for the young boy the rabbit was 100% real, she still changes the rabbit and says, “now you shall be real to everyone”. Despite this ending, when the forest bunnies tease earlier in the story, the velveteen rabbit exclaims, “I know I am Real!”. Maybe then, this little rabbit really does teach us that it’s what’s in our hearts that makes us real- despite what we look like, or what the haters say. And when the fairy transforms the rabbit into a real forest dweller (though she may be reinforcing what it means to be a real bunny), we know that actually, the velveteen rabbit  was real all along.

When is enough, enough?

I came across the above clip the other day. In the video, a young man identifies his troubles being recognised as “trans” within the trans community, given that he no longer wishes to take hormones, have surgery, or do a number of other things that might be seen to be important to passing as a man (such as packing). Importantly, the guy in this video is expressing a desire to be recognised for who he feels to be (a trans boy), whether that means being less masculine than stereotypically expected, or not altering his “female” body. This perspective seems incredibly radical, as it troubles all of our notions of what it means to be a “man” or a “woman”. He’s not saying that people shouldn’t have surgery or take hormones, etc, but is saying that this approach isn’t for everyone that is trans.

I do not identify as a trans person, but this issue of feeling that you have to meet particular “criteria” to fit in definitely extends beyond the trans community. We all want to be seen to be who we say (and feel) we are. This raises issues of visibility – “how can I be seen?” – and sending the right message – “how can I effectively communicate who I am?” (see also previous discussions on femme).  When we have certain assumptions of what being X, Y or Z means and want to conform to those meanings, we also reinforce and reiterate their very basis.

sometimes we want to be seen to stand out from the crowd...

For example, the stereotype that “all butch lesbians have short hair”, might lead a baby butch to feel that she needs to cut her hair off to ensure both visibility and the right message (after all, can you really be a “boyish” lesbian with long hair…). There’s nothing wrong with this strategy- until it means you ignore those people still speaking an identity but not conforming to the expected image that goes with it (for example, if you denied someone that said, “I’m a baby butch, and I have long hair like Fabio dammit!”).

Unfortunately we’re all part of this process- and indeed, many people might claim that my “feminine” disposition means that I am also supporting a system whereby female = feminine = woman. This really hit home for me when I suggested to a friend that we start a femme group at our university. When we started thinking about the “criteria” to join we got stuck- if we write rules about what being “femme” is, we’d just be undoing all of our queer beliefs about gender and sexuality (we couldn’t come up with any good reason why everyone couldn’t define as femme if they wanted, straight, gay, bi, man, woman, whatever!).

...and sometimes we just don't want to feel like the odd one out

In the end I guess we settled on the idea that as long as the person felt they were femme and wanted to identify as such, then that would be fine by us. But then came issues of how we would explain our group, and what activities we’d do together. Sure, I may want to watch Mean Girls and wear pink eating cupcakes every Friday, but presumably this proclivity would not be shared by all…

This is tricky stuff. But I’m excited to see that the boundaries of gender are continually being critiqued, through mediums like the public video blog above. So, when we’re finally out of the semantic mud and into the post-postmodern quicksand, at least we’ll all be in it together.

The world through rainbow-tinted glasses

Queer specs

Okay, I’ll admit it. I think everyone is gay. It’s this affliction I have- like that thing where people usually assume you’re straight, but the opposite. Literally. It’s not my gaydar that’s broken, it’s just that my straight one is missing.

This is actually quite annoying when it comes to finding potential lady dates- especially given the extra line blurring that hipster fashions, roller derby, and burlesque seem to have brought to the mix (queerifying straightness in a not-necessarily-gay way). In fact, it’s not so much that I think everyone is gay, but I tend to err on the side of everyone as potentially bi/pansexual.

Let me explain. 

I really respect that people have different sexual orientations that they identify with, I do. I just accidentally assume it’s a bit more fluid than that. This conversation I recently had with a friend (at Tilleys Devine Cafe) demonstrates my thought pattern:

Lady friend: So, what you’re saying is, you think everyone’s gay? Me: Basically. Lady Friend: What about me, do you think I’m gay? Me: Pretty much. Lady friend: But I have a boyfriend. Me: For now…

I am basically Friend Zone Fiona (if she were gay. Which she clearly is)

While I understand that this is probably really offensive to some, and just stems from my narcissistic and un-empathetic queer perspective, I also hope that some people find this refreshing. After all, why assume that everyone’s on the straight and narrow path (or the gay/lesbian yellow brick road and staying there) if you know that things are rarely that simple? Why assume that every happily married couple you meet also doesn’t have a boyfriend or girlfriend, or some other arrangement of a rainbow flavour? No reason (well, unless they explicitly tell you. Maybe).

So basically, if you’re straight, I’m afraid you’re going to have to come out of that gay glittering rainbow closet when you’re ready. That’s all.