Scarlet Lotus has posted a fantastic piece at The Femmeinist Fucktoy entitled Kinky vs. Queer vs. Straight Sex

So what’s the big difference between queer sex and straight sex? Aside from the usual definition of the sex of the partners (but that also brings into question is it the sex or the gender that matters?) it’s subtle, and may have a lot to do with intention. Can queer hetero sex include missionary sex? I say of course! The wonderful thing about the orbit(/label) queer is that it is very open to interpretation.

Most often the participants of queer sex are queer people, but that brings into the question of what makes someone a queer person. I’d argue that anyone outside of the norm of society is queer in some way, although not everyone would see it that same way. Queer is an important label for same-sex/gender-loving people to embrace, definitely, but I also think queer moves beyond that label as well.

If we define queer as what it’s not, meaning not normal, just about everyone would be able to be labeled queer. I’m not sure if I’ve ever met a normal person in my life, society perpetuates this idea of normalcy, but that doesn’t mean it exists anywhere, and usually those who think they are normal would not be considered normal by others, so where does that leave us?

Seriously, just go read the whole thing.

I ended up leaving a rather long response to the post, and I think it bears reposting here with some modifications.

Despite my rather interesting relationship to gender, and my kinks, I’ve never been comfortable claiming the word “queer” for myself. I’ve always been too worried that if I identified with it I’d be appropriating, or at least stepping on the toes of those who have claimed that word before. After all, I’m sexually attracted to women nearly exclusively. Even with the pink hair I pretty much look like a dude. I’d worry that by declaring myself queer I’d be cheapening the shit other people have had to deal with. My shit’s something else, and I don’t want to feel like I’m claiming something that’s not mine. And, well, I don’t want to say I’m queer then have to explain to people that, no, I mean something different by that. I understand “queer” as an invitation to dialogue, but it’s not something I think would work for me.

At the same time, however, I want a banner under which gender and sexual outsiders can gather, and “queer” seems poised to be that. I identify with what I’ve learned of queer theory and gender theory. I rally behind anti-assimilationist queers and Gay Shame and Bash Back (if only in my mind). I want to see more people for whom sexuality is deliberately a central part of life, and that seems to be a common thread in the type of queer with which I identify. It’s deliberate. It recognizes that there’s something broken in our culture, and wants to stand apart from it. That’s the queer I’m looking for. It’s not sponsored by Anheuser-Busch. It’s not the nice professional gay couple in the suburbs who are “just like you.” It’s not any sort of veneer of the normalcy of which Scarlet Lotus wrote. But I feel like I don’t have the right to make those distinctions, because I don’t feel like the word belongs to me.

But we just bought my partner her first cock, and we’re looking forward to getting to know it better. I’ve complained elsewhere about the association between pegging and Femdom, and we don’t plan to fall into the prescribed roles of power exchange between penetrator and penetrated. We’re deliberately challenging both the norms of sex and the norms of non-normal sex. That feels pretty damn queer.

She asks “Is anything you do really only kinky the first time, because after you do it that desensitizes you to it, making you think less of the kink factor of it and more of the enjoyment of it?” I don’t think that kinky sex gets less kinky. I think it can for those who don’t feel that kink is an integral part of their sexuality (like those who use blindfolds and handcuffs as “spice” or who just think it’s fun to be “naughty”), but I find that going deeper and deeper into my sexuality doesn’t mean I get more kinky, but that my kinks go deeper, and I’m more infused by them.

I don’t know how much of my sex is queer or kinky. I think kink is present even in my most vanilla looking sex in the subtleties of power exchange, the slight uses of pain.

I do wonder about the flipside, can sex between people of the same gender or sex be (relatively) non-queer? If it lacks deliberateness. If it seeks to approximate normalcy. If it’s driven by fears of sex. I can’t answer that, but it’s something to wonder about.

One Response to “Kinky/Queer/Straight”

  1. Wendy Blackheart Says:
    November 18th, 2008 at 2:08 am

    As an ass fan, I’ve got to say that I’m sick of seeing pegging as ‘the’ image of femdom. Yes, I’m a fairly dominant female. I identify as a top. And I like to peg.

    But the act of penetration in and of it self is not a dominant OR submissive act. Just because I’m the one ‘fucking’ doesn’t make me the dominant partner. I can service someone and submit with my cock (were I ever to actually submit, lol) and I can top with a dick in my ass. Or my cunt.

    *grumble grumble* stupid prodommes and mass media, messing with my kink.

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