Gender chasing
Labeling of sexuality too limiting
For the depraved among you who haven’t yet
seen my all-time favorite movie, “Chasing Amy”
is the story of two comic book writers who are
best friends.
One of the pair, Holden (Ben Affleck), falls
in love with a beautiful and funny writer named
Alyssa (Joey Lauren Adams). One problem,
though - Alyssa’s a lesbian.
Or at least that’s what she thinks.
Alyssa eventually realizes that she’s in love
with Holden as well. There’s a lot of things I like
about this movie. Besides my crush on Ben
Affleck, there’s a hilarious appearance by Jay and
Silent Bob. And I can relate to the whole comic
book theme, having been a collector as a kid.
But the heart of the movie is the relationship
between Holden and Alyssa and the effects it has
on Holden’s relationship with his best friend.
I didn’t like this movie the first time I saw it.
In fact, I was somewhat offended. As a “straight
but not narrow” ally of the
greedy sex fiend.
Indeed, when I came out to my parents as
bisexual, they told me that if I were gay they
would support me “because then I couldn’t help
it,” but being bisexual is a “choice” and that I
should just “choose” women.
But more and more young people are identi
fying themselves as “bi,” “queer,” or “pansexual”
to avoid narrow labels. Several celebrities like
Angelina Jolie, Megan Mullally (Karen on “Will
& Grace”) and Margaret Cho have come out as bi
in the past few months.
I saw “Chasing Amy” again recently. There’s
a scene where Alyssa tells Holden that she’s been
ostracized by all of her lesbian friends for dating
him. He asks her why she dated girls in the first
place, and Alyssa replies, “because I didn’t want
to miss out on my chance to find that one special
person just because they were of the same gen
der.”
That scene ties the whole film together.
Alyssa wasn’t a “lesbian” made “straight” by a
good screw. She was someone looking for love
and not afraid of where she might find it J think
that most of us, if we would let ourselves, could
fall in love with someone of either gender as well.
Like Alyssa in “Chasing Amy,” I, too, hope
that one day I’ll meet that one special person who
will change my life forever - and if I ever do, I
won’t turn him or her away because he or she
happens to have (or not have) a penis.
gay community, I didn’t like
how the film seemed to
show that all lesbian Alyssa
needed to fall for Holden
was a good screw.
Back then, my support
for the gay community, like
many straight people, came
from a belief that straight or
gay, people are bom that
way, and there’s nothing
they can do about it. And
this belief has allowed for
tremendous progress in the
face of the Religious Right’s
prattle about “choice” and
“sin.”
But now I don’t think
this belief is entirely accu
rate. There’s not just two
categories of sexuality (gay
or straight) that everyone
falls into. Sexuality is a con
tinuum, with homosexuality
on one end and heterosexu
ality on the other end, and in
reality, most people don’t
fall completely on one end
or the other.
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complexity of sexuality
when I realized that the feel
ings I had for my best friend
were not of mere friendship
-1 had the same hopes and
confusions about him that I
had for girls I’d been in love
with. I began to realize that
many of my friendships
with guys in the past had
this same element of attrac
tion, but I never let myself
realize it consciously.
Yet realizing that I could
love a man didn’t destroy
my desire or ability to love
women.
The more I become
involved with the gay com
munity, the more I come to
think that many of the peo
ple who consider them
selves “gay” or “lesbian”
have had, and could have,
happy romantic relation
ships with someone of the
opposite sex as well. But
we’re all pressured to pick
one or the other and stick
with it.
To this day I’m some
times guilty of identifying
myself as homosexual.
People understand “gay,”
even if they don’t like it.
Saying I’m bisexual seems
to make people think I’m
either actually gay but afraid
to admit it, I’m confused or
I’m just some kind of
Culture shock
San Francisco trip leads to self discovery
Yesterday momin’ at 4:20 a.m., I was sitting
in the San Francisco airport. I hadn’t slept for two
days, but I was going strong.
My psychologist (mother) will ask of my trip,
“Was it worth it?”
As I encompass what it means, I will nod my
head and say, “Oh yeah.”
Sometimes, for me, I think expressing the
simple pleasures in life isn’t possible without
sounding contrived and dishonest, but I’ll try.
Only one sentence can describe my weekend
-1 learned a lot and had fun doing it.
I didn’t know how my trip was to fare
because getting my plane ticket was an adventure
in itself.
Not really an adventure per se, but I had to
pay $8 more than my best friend and companion
on the trip, Deena.
The only reasoning we could come up with
as to why mine was a little more is that so many
gays fly into San Francisco that United Airlines
feels it can add an additional “queer charge” on
the side.
I thought it a bit odd when the United lady
asked what my sexual orientation was.
Oh well.
To add to this “distraction,” at 5:14 a.m. on
my way home, my six-shooter butane lighter was
confiscated by the baggage check lady. It’s scary
to think that it has passed through the X-ray
many times before, but my luck simply ran out.
The lady said, “It’s a weapon, and I’m going
to have to turn it in to the police. I don’t want to
make it a bigger issue than it is, since it’s a
lighter.”
OK, fine. So, is it a weapon or a lighter, lady?
I would guess the latter since she probably would
have let me keep a weapon.
With all this farty nonsenseaside, what I
learned this weekend was that I don’t know how
to act and respond to people of “my own kind.”
This may be inconceivable to die people of
the world, but I felt sort of, well, uncomfortable
in my homosexual Mecca.
Allow me to explain.
I didn’t feel uncomfortable in a necessarily
bad way, but I found myself doing a double take
when I saw two males kissing.
Or, I had to stare when a bunch of girls would
walk by, and I didn’t have to question whether
they had boyfriends, but girlfriends.
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prised at myself for responding in such a man
ner. After all, I thought I was comfortable with
who I am.
Isn’t this what everyone (not just queers)
aches for?
We all want to be in a society where people
won’t look at us with an icy, condemning stare
because of who we’re holding hands with or
who we believe in.
Maybe I’m a lost cause. Maybe I’ve lived
in Nebraska too long and have become
immune to the whispers and stares behind my
back and have even grown to love them.
The whispers and stares make me stronger
than the people who feel the need to poke fun
at the different.
For someone like me, who is considering a -
move to the Bay area, I will have to ask myself
if I want to be in a place where there is no ani
mosity betwixt strangers and acquaintances
alike.
a place as peacerui as pumpkin pie topped
with an eerily low crime rate.
A place where all the shops are geared
toward the astute clothing styles of gay men
and where rainbow paraphernalia is bursting
out of store fronts.
A place where I will see gay couples
strolling daily with thoughts only of what to do
when the next earthquake hits.
What will my reactions be? Why am I so
shocked at something new?
My answer is that, although queemess is
indeed part of the culture of San Francisco, it’s
only one culture on a palette of so many others.
The gay district runs rampant with fruity
overtones - for about 10 blocks.
The rest of the city (aka the majority) has a
plethora of astounding museums, gardens and
unique Vietorian-style houses.
There are several areas in ’Frisco that
define a certain attitude and way of life.
There is Chinatown (to your left) with its
aroma of dead fish and bustling market-goers
and North Beach (to your right) with the
tourists, live music and Italians.
The Presidio is located in another section
of town where no one lives (because the gov
ernment-owned land won’t be rented for rea
sons that remain unclear).
I’ve never in my 22 years seen hills as steep
as I saw (that only gays in VW bugs could
overcome), and I’ve never seen such peaceful
folks throughout the city.
San Francisco isn’t unlike many other
pities in that there is a representation of differ
ent communities, but it is damn unique in the
way that these communities are at one with one
another.
I’m not exactly used to this calm interac
tion between such opposition, because where I
live there isn’t much opposition.
I suppose I could learn to fit into a place
where accepting everyone isn’t so bad after all.
I do accept heterosexuality with two thumbs
up.
I should accept it because not everyone in
San Francisco is gay.
Don’t get confiised by that because every
one is happy.
Jeremy Patrick is a
Jirst-year law student and a Daily Nebraskan columnist.
Karen Brown is a senior English
and film studies major and a Daily Nebraskan columnist.