Sex vs. Gender

(Crossposted from my post on the Femmes Guide.)

Sex vs. Gender

An interesting concept, the thought of sex versus gender as though they were two opposing fighters in the boxing ring. Think about it – how often on, say, applications or other miscellaneous forms do you see “Gender: M___ F___” or “Sex: M___ F___?” (The fact that there are only two genders on these forms is a whole other, and often addressed concept.) The vast majority of the world sees these two terms as completely interchangeable, although some might argue that “gender” is slightly more appropriate, given the obvious double-entendre of the word “sex.” (Cue Austin Powers: The Spy Who Shagged Me line, “Sex… yes please!”) However, in my cognitive travels, I have reached a fork in the road, with a sign on a pole in the middle:

Yes, please forgive my shoddy photo editing. It gets my point across. And that point is: we are no longer in a time where sex can unerringly equal gender, where the two can be swapped back and forth like partners at a swingers party. If we are to adopt the theory of orbiting in a gender galaxy as opposed to standing in a spot along the linear spectrum of binary gender assignment, then we also have to make the conscious decision to separate the two terms and use both to specify the context in which we are speaking. No longer, I feel, does “sex” always equal “gender.”

Sex, aside from being a pleasurable and sometimes procreative act, should ideally refer to the reproductive and genital organs a person was born with. A person of the male sex would have the XY chromosome, a penis and testes. A person of the female sex would have the XX chromosome, and at the very least a vulva, if not also the vagina, uterus and ovaries. (I am trying to take into account those born with defects. Bear with me, for the sake of my point.) Those who are neither, or in between in the biological sense are often referred to as hermaphrodites, or intersex. (See, there’s that term again. Intersex. Not intergender.)

Gender is a whole other ballgame; one, as mentioned before, often discussed. Gender is a huge hot topic in the world of alternative lifestyle. Going even further beyond the now-well known ideas of transgender and transvestitism are the ideas of genderqueer, cisgender, and genderfuck. Those terms do tie in with the ideas and various practices of transgender – they’re almost “umbrella terms” under which the more specific identities and practices exist – but oddly enough, while transgender and transvestitism are better known and more or less accepted (even if the people who practice them are not), the terms that describe them in their general state are new, buzzworthy, revolutionary even. The genderqueer concepts of “butch” and “femme” in the newly discovered gender galaxy are becoming more widespread and being more deeply explored than ever. No longer is “butch” just a term – or a nickname – for the burly, leather vest wearing, ‘do-rag sporting Harley biker with bad tattoos. No longer does “femme” just bring to mind the movie title Femme Fatale and more importantly, no longer is femme interchangeable with the term “feminine.” The era of gender enlightenment has been born. I for one cannot wait to see it flower into maturity.

Half-Nekkid Titties

Also, happy Half-Nekkid Thursday!



See? I am working my way up. First it was a leg - now it's tits in a bra!

It just occurred to me that this is a very interesting picture for me to post due to my dislike of my breasts. I've always wondered about my dislike of my breasts since I tend to quite like the rest of me. It's nothing to do with a dissatisfaction of my female body, that's for sure. Sometimes I almost wonder if it doesn't come from all my years working in the veterinary field, where large teats on a bitch/queen were a sign of her having given birth, which wasn't always a favored thing in my line of work. I've been known to say that I dislike my breasts because I feel like "a bitch in heat," which isn't exactly factually correct, because a bitch in heat does not tend to have swollen breasts. But, as a saying, I suppose it's true enough. My breasts remind me too much of my reproductive organs and what they're meant to do, even though they WON'T be doing what they're "meant" to - ever. I'm only a C-cup, but I'd still love to get a breast reduction someday. I envy Catalina her tiny boobs.

On a brighter note, I originally posted this picture just to show off my pretty new bra! It's pretty basic, but I just adore, adore, adore that twisted ribbon detail in between the cups. And yes, that mark above the left cup (on your right) would be a hickey. M just thinks that's sooooooo hilarious.

Happy HNT everyone!

Conversation

I have been such a neglectful blogger these past several days. Shame on me. (Who wants to deliver the spankings? Hee.)

I went through every blog on my kinky blogroll to find inspiration. Funnily enough, mentioning to a friend that there haven't been many kinky happenings in my life lately (I know, how sad) reminded me that M and I had an interesting conversation last night, between all the bickering.

A woman in the local scene has been talking about holding mini-seminars for such things as knife play, fire play, needle play, the many ways to flog, etc etc. I guess that got M thinking about what she would and wouldn't do. Knife play we've already done, so that's obviously a go. Fire play - haven't talked about that much. She's a bit of a pyro though, so I imagine she'd be favorable. Flogging - duh. Needle play, though... interestingly enough, she said that's one thing she absolutely does not want to do. This surprised me because she's not afraid of piercings - she's talked about wanting to get an industrial done, and her nipples pierced once she's had top surgery. But then, I guess it's different for some, having something more or less permanently pierced for aesthetic/sensation purposes, and having needles basically threaded or woven through the skin just for play.

Me? I'm all for it. I'm pretty sure I already told that local woman at our last munch (the inaugural munch!) that I'd be more than willing to engage in needle play. Yum.

Oh yeah, and no fucking kidding about people coming out of the woodwork. S. Oregon's no, say, Portland or Seattle or any metropolitan area, but for a fairly small, conservative city with no major cities around it, there's a pretty good scene here! And it's getting so much better. Maybe it's only getting better because I'm officially a part of it. Either way, exciting.

S'all for now! Thinking about trying to get back into writing some erotica at some point. We shall see...

Munchify me cap'n

Soooo! My first munch was last night. Actually... my first "scene" event ever.

Wow. WOW. FUN. Seriously, if play parties are even more fun than that, I dunno how I'm going to handle it (except by jumping in with both feet, naturally). It felt SO GOOD to get out of the house, meet new people, and interact with them. I finally got to meet a girl I'd been talking to on FetLife for some time, and I got my first real look at people who are just as fucked up (in a GOOD way, thank you) as I am! They really do exist! Not that I doubted it. Still, the affirmation is nice.

And the people! They were awesome! Everyone was polite, most were hilarious, and a good chunk of them I'd actually kinda like to play with either by topping, bottoming to, or partnering in a role over or under someone else.

I am definitely looking forward to further events, including my first play party. Should be a damn good time.

Service

There is a side of myself that I desperately need to explore. It is a side that so rarely comes out in the way that it should. My service side.

It's fairly well-known (at least, I think) that I'm a switch and that in my relationship with M, I fill the dominant role, quite naturally; she brings out the Dom in me and for the most part, I bring out the sub in her - although lord knows she loves to push the limits! I should really talk to more Tops who Top Tops, and devise better strategies. ;)

(That is another post into itself. I believe M is switchier than she thinks.)

In any case, my submissive side in general is a side that has been explored very little. In fact, the most exploration it gets, besides inner contemplation, is talking to my mother (a sub) and reading subs' blogs and a few forums on FetLife.

However, that's what brings me to write this post: those damn forums on FetLife. They'll getcha every time! I lurk on two forums: Service, and Domestic Servitude. Mostly for inspiration, really. Those women have some really excellent tips for running a household, lemme tellya. It's when they get to the drive behind it all, the theoretical talk, that I start getting wistful.

I do take great satisfaction in keeping my own house functioning. Most of those women undoubtedly put me to shame with their houses, and I should really be more consistent in my cleaning/tidying, but when it gets done, man, do I love it. But is it the same? Is the satisfaction as great as when someone else acknowledges and appreciates? M, while not exactly service oriented (she's really not domestic beyond her talent for cooking - my own untamed chef; she's more handy), positively glows when she's done something - from as simple as mowing the lawn to her current project, repainting the bathroom - and I voice my appreciation in the simplest form: "Good girl."

I want that glow.

It can be tough to be a mostly monogamous switch. Especially one who hasn't yet become majorly active in the scene. (Although that's changing, starting Tuesday!) I'll either find a way to explore it or find a way to live with it. Can't be too hard, when I get to tie up and flog this:

Don't you think?

The new anti-label movement

Ladies, gentlemen, and all those in between,

I have something profoundly awakening to say.

I do not label. I orbit.

Okay, I know what I'd be thinking if I were on the outside reading this. "Alllllright then! Someone's been knocking back a few too many sneaky quick ones!"

But no, seriously! Read Scarlet's post on labels and identity. Tell me if that does not make the most absolute PERFECT sense ever in the sensical world. Okay, I'm exaggerating, I know this, but holy shit, wow! Think about this. Labels are stuck on things, generally with some sort of adhesive substance that is harder than hell to get off. Hell, they sell products just to remove such adhesive substances! So basically, once a label's on something, it's pretty well on there indefinitely. If you want more labels put on, you have to add them to the labels already there, and soon enough, you're covered in labels, without a hint of original identity left. But orbits, oh, that's something entirely different. If a satellite is orbiting around the primary body, it is becoming a part of the primary body's gravitational pull without being submersed in its atmosphere. It remains its own entity, simply within the influence of the primary body. It can just as easily break free from this orbit and enter into the gravitational pull of an entirely different primary body.

That is what we non-binary people do. This is why we call it a gender galaxy.

God, this is such a huge moment for me. This is my liberation. This IS me standing on top of the smoking rubble that was the unit of pigeonholes. I finally get it.

Another exceedingly valid point raised is this: IF I don't believe in binary gender, then why do I have the term "bio-female" in my profile? (Although funnily enough, in subsequent profiles and bios that I have written, that term is absent. It didn't feel right. Now I know why.) And furthermore, why do I identify as "21F Switch" on FetLife? Why is that not "21GQ Switch?" But... how genderqueer am I? I may not be into binary gender/sexuality, but does the tiny little midget butch inside me really legitimize me embracing the genderqueer identity? Or am I genderqueer simply because I acknowledge that there is more to life than male-born-with-a-penis-female-born-with-a-vagina?

Although for what it's worth, after work I changed into my long, loose denim shorts and stripped down to the black tank I wore underneath my work shirt today, and went to wash the walls in the bathroom in prep for M to paint them. I caught a glimpse of myself in the medicine cabinet mirror, balanced on my tippytoes on a chair, shorts slipping down under my tum, tank top riding up, sweaty hair tendrils flying everywhere as I put sheer force of muscle into scrubbing the walls... and damned if I didn't think I was hot. So maybe I'm more genderqueer than I think.

And in the end, it only matters to a tiny, minute, fractional extent, because if I do identify as genderqueer, it is not ALL of me. It's not stuck on me. It's there, and I am in its orbit. I can break free any time I wish.

MAN that feels good.

Happy first HNT, self!

Yes, finally! The inaugural post of my participation in the Half-Nekkid Thursday project. I'm starting out slow and easy - there's plenty of time to get to the juicy stuff!

Oh, and by the way...

I'm now a contributor on Scarlet's Femme's Guide! Talk about stoked!

Now I just need to figure out what to write...

Just a taste of vanilla

How is it that when you're a kinky person, vanilla sex becomes somehow... interesting? Interesting like a quirky but oddly intriguing poem that you just can't help but sit back and ponder.

And oddly, it wasn't even sex. Sunday M stayed naked for most of the day, I think mostly because she was feeling too lazy to even put clothes on after her shower. Later in the evening, we were both laying on the bed - she just cuddling, me reading - when I couldn't help but take advantage of her nudity. I started playing with her clit while I was reading. After a while she got huffy because I wasn't paying full attention to her, even though I thought it was kinda fun to multitask like that, so I put the book aside and focused on her clit. Fingers first, delving into a little experimentation with a vibrating back massager, and when that turned out not to work do well, our actual vibrator.

And.. well, aside from the fact that we're two chicks, and she's genderqueer, it was completely vanilla. Hardly any sadism on my part, hardly any teasing, and I didn't even make her ask to come - and instinctively, she knew that.

Going back to vanilla sex kind of felt like finding that soft, tattered baby blanket in a box in the closet. The cherished roots, beginnings, nostalgia, old memories.

Next time I think I'm going to tie her up and beat the hell out of her. And make her hold the vibrator in her pussy while I'm doing it. :-D

God how I want a strap-on. Or at least a second vibrator.

Tomboy femme

So funnily enough, despite my bemused ramblings regarding labels, I have found one that has struck me like a tuning fork. (Cue drooling dogs.)

"Tomboy femme."

You can thank Sinclair for that one. Talk about a term that nails me on the head.

Then I came across this post by Essin'em on the Femme's Guide to Everything and it got me thinking more about the concept. I'm still unclear on the exact differences between femme and feminine (although I know they're there), but the idea of wearing a dress and heels - or, conversely, sweats and a tee, such as what I'm wearing now - and still kicking ass and taking names makes me want to pump my fist and shout, "HELL YEAH!"

The finest example of this (besides the darling Essin'em herself) would be my mother. I couldn't really tell you whether she's femme or feminine (maybe both?) but she certainly kicks ass in her cute skirts and cleavage-showing tops. That cute purse she's carrying? Yeah, it contains no less than four weapons meant to inflict serious damage should anyone try to fuck with her without permission. This just makes me swell with pride. My mom kicks ASS.

ANYWAY! Back on topic. I seemed to fall into the more femme role - or rather, my androgynobutch girlfriend just brings it out in me - but it felt incomplete somehow. How the hell could I be a femme when I'm such a... well, a tomboy?

Well, there you go! I can do it all! I can be a kick ass multitasking tomboy femme. AND, on top of it all, I can wrap these labels around me without letting them take me over and drown me. I AM the labels; they are not me. (Oh, how cheesy.)

Also, I am becoming more and more interested in a harness. I'm in love with this one - only I think I'd have to get it in black. The idea of not only fucking my girlfriend with a cock, but being a femme who fucks my butch girlfriend with a cock - that just tickles me pink.

This rapidly unfolding world before me is unceasingly fascinating, and I think the ride's going to be a lot of fun.

Makin' me a munch!

Urgh. I keep meaning to take a photo and post it for Half-Nekkid Thursday, but I keep forgetting! One of these days I will get around to it. I do have that as-yet-never-worn corset to show off, after all.

Nothing too sexy happening at home lately, minus the ever present teasing. I swear M's nipples get their own version of "morning wood," at which point they're irresistible. Meow.

On an exciting note, I'm helping form one of the first local munches around here! I'm really, really jazzed about this. There is a munch around here, but it rotates cities so isn't always available locally. Eventually I'll make it to that one, but in the meantime it's absolutely thrilling to not only expect a truly truly local munch, but also help organize it!

On that note, I'm really damn hungry, so I think I'm gonna go hunt me some food.

A conglomeration

Wow, okay, it's September! A turning of the year, in this climate anyway. Things start cooling down, leaves on trees are fading, students are going back to school...

There's a certain newness in the air that's reflected in my own life. My new job that I start tomorrow, the new 365 Women's Photo Challenge I'm undertaking, and just the simple fact that this blog is still really damn new, and has so many places to go. The anticipation, the sense of untold opportunities is almost overwhelming. Maybe this blog isn't the only thing going places. Maybe I am too. It feels that way, right now at least.

On a somewhat kinkier note, CurvaceousDee turned me on to a photo contest held by Shay at The S Spot, and I wasn't doing anything important last night so M and I entered. My entry is here, and this one is M's. I particularly like M's; mine didn't turn out as well as I'd hoped. Win or lose, though, coming up with the ideas and executing them was a lot of fun!

A thought that has been rolling around in my brain lately (banging up against all the other thoughts) is that of titles, and labels. The more I read around - in blogs, on websites I come across - the more titles I am exposed to. Two good examples would be the blog of The Femmenist Fucktoy, and Sinclair Sexsmith's Sugarbutch Chronicles. The discussion and exploration of these various titles and their deeper meanings is fascinating, but there again I find myself using the word "overwhelming," because wow, that's what it is! So many of the things that those two - and others - write about resonates with me on many levels, but at what point do I cap myself off? At what point do I say, "No more labels?" Mostly I identify as femme, but some days I feel butch! And the term "fagette" that ScarletLotus recently wrote about described me almost perfectly (well, minus the optional lesbian part). For a long while I identified as bisexual, but then I finally grasped the term pansexual and, what do you know, it fits, so now I'm that! "Thank you, I'll have the Pansexual Combo with a large side of Femme, a small thing of Butch - lightly salted - annnnd hell, throw in a Fetish for dessert." I have a list blog; I almost want to start a list of all the things that I could and do identify as just to keep them all straight! There are times I just want to throw my hands up in the air and say, "Dammit, I'm just ME! I'm the one standing on top of all these pigeonholes!" I just want to float along in the ocean of gender and sexual identification without washing up on any of its shores. I want to absorb it all.

Still, though, it's fun to discover new facets of my identity because in discovering them, I am generally also discovering new people with whom I can - and sometimes do - make a connection. Dog knows I am desperately trying to make connections anywhere I can, since I live in a fairly conservative backwater where drag queens and trannybois aren't exactly roaming the streets at large. Maybe one day I will be able to talk about these things face to face with somebody. Until then, the musings of bloggers more enlightened than I remain my only salvation.