I’ve been grappling with something over the past few months as I embark on a serious relationship with a woman for the first time. My femininity feels under fire by my own fucked up gender programming. The reality is that it doesn’t matter how much Judith Butler and Eve Sedgwick I read. It doesn’t matter that I have idols like Tristan Taormino, Lee Harrington, and Bear Bergman. It doesn’t matter that I love genderbenders and all level of gender fucking. I have some fucked up assumptions and ideas about sex and gender and sexuality that infect my ability to be as fearless as I want to be.

This is a confession of sorts but also a cry for help. I think about myself in reference to kink and sex and realize that I associate submission and service with being feminine. I associate beauty, weakness, and delicacy with being feminine. And I also realize that I am so terrified of being seen as anything other than feminine that I put up some strange defenses against this.

Case study A: Ariel

Ariel is my gorgeous girlfriend. She is beautiful and petite and has long flowing hair. She moves gracefully on high heels. She also has a powerful job in a male-dominated industry and changes car batteries and asserts herself aggressively in conversations. She looks high femme but has always thought of herself as butch. Still, when I touch her I sometimes feel huge, ham-fisted, rough, and all-together ugly. I know she longs for me and I fail her because I don’t know how to be. On the one hand, strapping on a pretty dildo and fucking her for hours sounds like pure bliss but I know that getting to that point will be full of second-guessing myself and my desires and my actions.

Am I being entirely heterosexist in my view of this sexual relationship? Abso-fucking-lutely! Because she is feminine, I feel masculine. (We won’t even get into the terrible fact that I associate masculinity [on myself!] with ugliness) I don’t want to feel this way. It isn’t enlightened, it isn’t sex positive. I wouldn’t teach it to my students. But it infects my reality and I don’t know how to deprogram it.

Case study B: Michael

[Note: This section has been edited for nuance. The lack it previously exhibited, though, is likely symptomatic of my issues with binary thinking.]

Michael is a petite man. We are the same height and I outweigh him significantly. When we first met I didn’t think the relationship would work because of this. I thought I would feel huge and be self-conscious and afraid. So I submitted myself to him. He felt like he was capable of being in charge and I let him be. Even if I couldn’t be delicate and small by comparison physically, I knew I could shrink myself mentally. It works out well that he has discovered enjoyment of beating me until I cry, pulling my hair, grabbing my throat. (Again we won’t get into how fucked up it is that my way of feeling feminine involves simulated victimization) Even when I am initiating sex with him, it feels like an act of service and devotion. He often gives me feedback on how to touch and where and when. I siddle up to him and slither a limb around his body. I kiss gently. The touches are a seduction and they are a worship and only in my most wanton and least self-conscious moments do I allow myself to be aggressive and take up space.

Taking up space

I haven’t really defined what this means to me just yet. You may have guessed some of it by now, though. I think of it in terms of physical space – my body is larger and I attempt to diminish that regularly. I also think of it terms of political space – my voice should be smaller, my needs should be less important, my desires should be locked away.

This might seem ridiculous to some of you that have met me or read this blog. Of course I take up space in terms of talking about sex. Here I am now with this presence on the internet. Blabbing, opining, discussing in detail, issuing edicts and judgments and ideas. But some of that strength leaves me when I’m making love to some of the people I adore most in the world.

I know that every relationship goes through growing pains and these are no exception, but this issue feels bigger and scarier and more about me being fucked in the head than any I have run into before. So, dear reader, tell me what you think. How do I get my theory to line up with my practice? How do I deschool myself of gender? How do I embrace femininity in a way that doesn’t make me need to masculinize others? How have you done it or how do you wish you could?

January – Jay and I started the year by celebrating our 2nd anniversary together. If you want to refresh on how we first met (and the aftermath of that) you’ll have to look back to January of 2006. We were in Thailand for half of this month and pretty depressed to back in the US again. So, you didn’t hear from me again until. . .

April – Where I attended Sex 2.0 and had a fire lit under me. I started a Twitter account, got involved with FetLife, and relaunched my podcast. I finally realized that I was part of a community and felt like I belonged.

May – I started reviewing products on my podcast and blog for VibeReview.

June – I spent a lot of time thinking about sex work in both text and audio forms. I also got sort of pissy and ridiculous about blogging and met Artemis Hunter for the first time.

July – I had my first freelance work published in The Naughty American and dug up some old camwhore shots. I also experienced a bit of heartbreak, but it turned out a great piece of writing if I do say so myself. I also got tied up by Artemis and finally hooked up with Carmine who had previously only been known as “cross-dressing law student“. Finally, I began publishing the Musings on Masculinity series.

August – The biggest news and one of the happiest days of my last several years was telling my dad about my “secret identity”. I’m still basking in the joy of that moment as I remember it. Also in July, Jay and I got to know Hania much better.

September – I was named #5 on the list of the Top 100 Sex Bloggers of 2008 among started a bajillion other projects. We also went to Dark Odyssey Summer Camp which was a watershed event for me despite the fact that I haven’t talked about it too much. I also presented at the Fetish Fair Flea Market and got to meet Catalina and Marky for the first time.

October – The posts slowed down and the earth stopped moving because something remarkable happened. We met Ariel and Michael and fell in love and my feet still haven’t touched the ground. At first I could only express the feelings in music. But. . .

November -  . . . soon I found more detailed words and images to express my thoughts. I captured the unique sadomasochistic relationship that Michael and I have developed as well as the experienced of being fucked by Ariel for the first time. And the sexy gave way to the mundanely profound as we found ourselves forming a type of family, broken hollondaise and all.

December – Ariel starts lending a hand with reviews and I think that the format suits this site. Jay and I also visited New York and saw tons of the friends that we met through the year. I also spent a sedate Birthday and Hanukkah at home with my new chosen family.

There are days when I crave his words more than his touch. Exhibit, a series of instant messages from Michael that left me gasping:

Fuck me until I cry.
Fuck me until I pass out and keep fucking me until you’re done.
Fuck me like I’ll die when you let go.
Fuck me until your name is a prayer on my tongue that I can’t articulate over my gasps.
Fuck me ragged until you scrape away the rough edges and mend my jaggedness like a river-washed stone.
Fuck me broken. Fuck me whole.
Fuck me until I forget my hangups, my catch-22 codes and the traps by which I condemn myself.
Fuck me until I remember that sex is good, love is straightforward and it is ok to just be held.

After he wrote all this, I observed that he never hesitates to turn casual conversation into poetry. He insisted that he didn’t know anything about having a casual conversation.

This is part of my ongoing series of interviews with men on masculinity. I am sorry for the long hiatus in posting these. The travel I have been doing has gotten in the way a bit.

This interview is actually with a kinky, female, top who has been one of the most steadfast commenter on this series. Trinity (who has a brilliant blog) discusses how her BDSM role relates to her perceptions of masculinity and her own performance of it.

When was the first time you remember being aware of masculinity? How old were you? What was the cultural climate or influence?

Aware it existed? I don’t know, other than just a vague sense that men were threatening coupled with a vague sense that I wanted to do the things that our society said was sexually reserved for them. Feeling like I was an alien for being female and wanting those things. Wondering, years later, when I found a trans man’s website about sex, describing some of the things he did and wanted to do and how he did them, if that was me. Feeling like I’d finally found descriptions of sex and sexuality that fit.

I was more aware of femininity and how it didn’t fit, and how everyone either tried to convince me to fit it or called me “he.” I was very unhappy with either of those options. (I don’t so much feel uncomfortable with being read as male nowadays. I kind of like it. I wonder about transition, but I’m not sure I’d feel any more comfortable on the other end of the gender continuum than I do on this one.)

As far as really thinking about the word, not until a Women’s Studies class in college. The point was the social stereotypes of masculinity and femininity and how stifling they are, but I felt weird and attacked even though I understood. I felt like I was being described as this enemy to women, when as far as I could tell I was one. I didn’t like the word — as it was presented it described some pretty icky people, it seemed — but I liked what it was supposed to represent, and came to see myself as on the masculine side of androgynous.

Which I still do, and that’s part of why I wrestle with whether or not I qualify as “butch.” (That I’m queer but not a dyke — I tend to date men — is the other.) I dress in a way I’d call butch when I’m wearing clothes I feel good in, I fuck in a masculine way, I go by Sir in the leather community and wonder where the matron is when someone says Ma’am… but I wonder how much of that is sexual persona and how much is my essence. They’re definitely intertwined, but there’s a lot of kink in it all. Which sometimes makes me fear I’m trampling on the toes of people who have it harder, since they’re not “just” folks with a fetish.

Do you think of yourself as masculine? Why or why not?

I have kind of a love-hate relationship with the term. I use it because I still feel I’m a little too androgynous to be “butch,” but I’m not sure if I’m too androgynous to quite qualify as “masculine” either. “Masculine female” is the closest bad approximation when I’m trying to say that look, my sense of my gender and body and role and what I want from those things is not like what I see most women wanting.

How does your masculinity relate to your sexuality (be it your orientation, preferences, or expressions)?

I’m a stone (most of the time) top. I’d much rather penetrate than be penetrated, and while I don’t think that’s necessarily masculine (femmes with sparkly strap-ons under their skirts are yay, and no less feminine), for me it fits with my gender and my sense of myself in a way that I do think of as masculine.

While it may not be popular in Feministlund to say this, and I definitely don’t think it’s true of everyone, I actually do suspect that I was born this way. I knew from a very, very young age that what people told me females were designed to do sexually was wrong for me, and what people told me males were designed to do sexually was right for me. It caused me great distress as a young child, as I knew nothing about strap-ons or whatever else. I thought I was crazy, and tried desperately to try to make myself feel that bottoming sexually seemed natural and right. I was angry at my body for not being equipped to have sex right, though I didn’t think of myself as a boy.

Though I’ve also seen some references to studies that suggested that girls who had disabilities grew up to behave in ways considered more masculine as a way of coping with being impaired or sick. So who knows.

At any rate I think this is a part of who I am and not something that should be laid at the feet of society.

This is another in my series of interviews with men about masculinity. Michael was kind enough to submit his answers to me and his reflections are largely about his youth and upbringing.

I was especially interested in the distinctions that Michael drew between bodily and emotional strength. The way these ideas work in the context of masculinity is an important concept that warrants further investigation.

When was the first time you remember being aware of masculinity? How old were you? What was the cultural climate or influence?

Two things come to mind: As a child, prior to the divorce of my parents, I clearly remember that while our family was visiting a neighbor’s house and saying goodbye to go home, I was hanging off of my dad’s arm like a monkey, his arm up like a tree limb as if he was flexing his bicep. I remember thinking that I’d never do this with mom, but not dwelling on why. He was clearly the Patriarch in that setting, no other children around. I would have been in the single digits, age-wise. 1970s.

Also, the college atmosphere in general made me more aware of it. In high school we all were just kids, but now we were becoming ADULTS, with adult goals and such. Sex was more present than in the high school atmosphere which while I know that some was going on, it wasn’t something I regarded as a big deal or glorified, despite hearing guy talk of conquests to the contrary. So in this case, I think the idea of maturity was tied into it. Early 20s, in the early 1990s.

Do you think of yourself as masculine? Why or why not?

I didn’t in the past. Being more cerebral than athletic, I left masculinity to the guys who were chasing balls on a court or field. Once I reached college, dating within my college interests (theatre) let talent and creativity be an appreciated characteristic instead of the physical stuff. I was making connections on a cerebral or emotional level, and then making a physical connection with the people who got that far. It’s interesting to note that the acting stuff is at heart an emotional connection, and my then-current view of masculinity didn’t play into it all.

I do think of myself as masculine now. My interests haven’t changed, and I still don’t have the body of an athlete, but these’s a difference in my brainspace. Learning what women aren’t attracted to was a great help in changing the way I thought about myself and masculinity. I could only give you generalities, and there are exceptions to everything, but in learning about myself and being objective, I could eliminate my mindset of being the “nice guy,” “big brother,” or “friend” in relationships with women. I didn’t choose that for myself, but once I had identified it, I could adjust my behavior and interactions with both genders to be more masculine, and enjoyed the change. Here we’re talking my late 20s, well after college.

It was incredibly difficult to change a lifetime of behavior, but the result was worth it. For years, I thought that to become more masculine, and in turn be thought of as attractive by those who appreciated masculinity, that I had to engage in behavior that I found off-putting, i.e. treating women poorly, instead of as something special. When I realized that I could keep what makes me ME, and sheer away the non-masculine behavior that wasn’t earning me any points with anyone, it was a revelation, i.e. you tease the woman instead of complimenting her constantly. I didn’t have to be one of those guys that treated women so badly that I shook my head when they’d keep going back for more, but I wasn’t playing puppydog to them either. I learned that masculinity isn’t muscles. I couldn’t tell you what it is in a paragraph though.

People talk about confidence, which is just as hard to define. And as to why some people have it, and others don’t, I couldn’t really tell you, because my only real thoughts about it stem from solving my problems with dating early on in life. I do know that a large part of confidence is basically being really good at living your life. And I know that a large part of masculinity is confidence.

I do consider myself masculine now, certainly. Typing it out seems egotistical, though. I know that certain people look up to me, that men and women find me attractive, but I’m not going to even guess at which came first: the masculinity or the effect from others. They definitely feed each other.

How does your masculinity relate to your sexuality (be it your orientation, preferences, or expressions)?

I identify as a heterosexual male, if I’m filling out a form for something. More importantly, I really just identify as Michael. That’s not being glib, I just think that part of being a man is not worrying about labels, or other people’s opinions. I don’t find men who aren’t masculine repulsive, and being a theatre geek and professional actor, I have more than my share of friends with varying sexualities.

I choose not to display overtly masculine cartoon characteristics, engage in guy talk or otherwise behave in a way that shows that I have no class. I keep a lot of female best friends, and love them dearly, so any guy talk is primarily done with them. You learn more that way.

Once I learned that I had sexual prowess, it really fed into my growing masculinity. And as I mentioned, that in turn made me feel more masculine. I think it’s a man’s job to “take” a woman somewhere, either physically or philosophically, so if that’s being a strong lead while dancing (and every woman who dances will tell you they like a strong lead) then so be it. If it means orgasms, then ok. It might mean cuddling with no hint of sex, or just including her in your plans for the evening. It all comes with the “job.”

Appearing vulnerable isn’t to be ignored though, although I once suggested to a lady that “she wanted a guy who could cry, just not in front of HER.” She said, “EXACTLY.” I have to be vulnerable on stage every time I walk out there, and a true connection with a woman necessitates connecting with your barriers down, but I don’t think that compromises your masculinity.

Download Bedroom Radio #21

On this episode I interview Sinclair of Sugarbutch Chronicles. We discuss gender, butch/femme identity, bdsm, and erotic blogging. You’ll also be treated to an incredibly sexy piece of erotica read by Sinclair.

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So I’m frantically getting ready for the new term at school so I’ve been a bit quiet. However, Jay has posted a few great blog entries this week. First, he did a HNT post for the first time. Exhibit:

He also wrote this gorgeous post about our play with Hania last week. Sigh. I will certainly be recounting the experience from my perspective as well but reading it from his was fun. While we were all together, I kept looking up at him and smiling. He was a bystander some of the time but he never lost the look of wonder and delight from his eyes. He is such a treasure to have as a lover and best friend.

Here are a few of his words:

Hania motioned for me to help her out of her top, then her bra. Her breasts, while smaller than Ellie’s, were very large for Hania’s small frame and quite perky. The dark almond colored areolas that we thought we saw the month before were even more sexy than Ellie and I had imagined (trust me, we spent a few nights in bed talking about Hania’s lovely body).

Ellie laid down on her back and Hania straddled her playing with her breasts. They rubbed their bodies together, kissed, sucked, and licked for almost an hour before Hania started pulling Ellie’s panties off.

I wish I had a better vantage point so I could give a play-by-play. The only thing I can say for sure is that the three of us all seemed to be enjoying ourselves. Hania’s slurping and kissing, Ellie’s moans, and my angelic expression probably express the feelings of the moment better than a verbose description could.

He also posted a really lovely photo of Hania in the rope harness that I put on her:

This weekend, we’ll be going out of town for a very impromptu weekend with Artemis and Jeff. She called me last night and we agreed that when Artemis asks for your attendance, you do what you can to make it happen. We should come home with new stories to tell and some brand new rope skills. Rope skills that I hope to use and continue improving at Dark Odyssey in a few weeks.

This is another in my series of interviews with men about masculinity. Like several of the other men interviewed, Jerry has an interest in BDSM. He expresses both joy and conflict arising from this part of his sexuality. The urge to define what authentic or “real” masculinity is appears in this narrative. It seems like something that Jerry is not sure of as I’m sure many of us are not.

When was the first time you remember being aware of masculinity? How old were you? What was the cultural climate or influence?

I can’t remember NOT being aware of masculinity. Many of my early memories are of my Moms brother and his wife who lived next door. He was big on bodybuilding and was clear and vocal about what a man and a woman should should be. He was more than a little “caveman” in his thinking. The rest of my family and most of the others I know were more in step with the times, but even at that, roles were pretty clearly defined. Our extended family would often take trips together where the men would go fishing and the women would shop. Even at the preschool age I would ask why, I, “a man” was going shopping. They said I would get to go with the men when I got a little older. And I did. While not a caveman, my Dad was still a product of the times. He would take me with him often…to the auto parts store and the hardware store. (I still love going to “Dom Depot”) When my Mom was in the hospital we, as a male family, had to have a grandma come over to cook and clean for us.
Even with that I knew girls were of more interest to me than boys and I spent much more time with the neighborhood girls than boys. And playing “show and tell” was just one of the reasons. While I got called sissy and even fag a good deal I never had any doubt about what I liked and who had it and who didn’t.

Do you think of yourself as masculine? Why or why not?

I do, but not in the context of the “caveman” or even the “father knows best”. I see myself more of a renaissance man. I want the women in my life to be educated and enlightened, whether they are a bar wench or the queen or both. I admit to retaining some issues from youth. I can’t help it that I still find it much easier to cut grass that to wash dishes. I can however cook if I can ever get my wife and our girlfriend out of the kitchen at the same time. I do see men as protector still, but know enough to share that duty with women. My wife and I are currently sharing the finer points of hunting and shooting with our girlfriend.
In life and in the bedroom (or whatever room works at the time) we are all equal partners. We each bring something different to the table (or bed) and its all good.

How does your masculinity relate to your sexuality (be it your orientation, preferences, or expressions)?

Being into BDSM and poly has been a great way to express my desire to be “lord of the manor” as well as “sex toy” (at different times) without taking, or giving up, equality in the relationship. In both BDSM and poly communication and trust are acknowledged as paramount and while men may be from Mars we need to be able to hear and express the needs and feelings of those involved. “Real men” should be able to do this.