Monday, December 15, 2008

"Desire won't die…"



I've been mulling over the concept of desire's construction for years now. When I look back on my own notions of beauty through the years, I'm struck most by how much more pleases my palate now, and how many more colors I have on my palette to paint a picture of what I desire. In short, with increased experiences, the space required to house my tastes has become quite palatial! (I couldn't resist a bit of wordplay.)

The question of "Where is the line between taste and unjust discrimination?" comes up often when discussing the intersections of sexual attraction, gender, age, and race (amongst other things). To better address what we all seek to gain from the answer—chiefly, to be (reciprocally) desired—I think another way to frame the question is: "How do we personally stand to benefit from examining how we construct desire?" If we each take the time to thoroughly investigate what concepts we're attracted to on a fundamental building-block level, we can then perform an appraisal of another individual based on their embodiment of those concepts we find attractive.

Perhaps an analogy would help to clarify my point (and I do have one): the politics of sexual desire are akin to the politics of affirmative action. The latter seeks a localized remedy to the systemic symptoms of a society plagued by prejudice, rather than confronting the cause of the illness. Masking symptoms might make us feel better, but we're still sick and "Band-Aid" solutions aren't enough to staunch the bleeding. Just as it would be a mistake to police racism solely through legislature without some social discourse on what forces drive race relations, it doesn't help to focus on sexual discrimination without (and, I daresay before, as well) discussing why we like who we like.

Consider an employer that elects to only hire applicants from a particular group. Before having a charge of "groupism" leveled against them or considering themselves "groupist", it would help for them to identify what qualities they're looking for in an employee. By adjusting their focus to zoom in on the parts that create the composite whole they desire, they'll have the chance to pinpoint those qualities outside the group they were previously limiting themselves to, thereby increasing the pool of desirable applicants and allowing them to skim more cream from a substantially larger crop.

Paring my attraction to ("biological") men down to its base components offered me the opportunity to seek out those elements I find desirable in as many people as possible. I discovered that my attraction was not to men, per se, but to the nebulous construct that is masculinity. This led me to pursue the root of my desire in folks that, theretofore, I had written off for not belonging to the group stereotypically possessing the quality I found so appealing, such as transdudes and even women.

Going beyond the bounds of what society had set for me to be attracted to as a gay man, boundaries that I myself had unthinkingly adopted, was liberating in many senses. It freed me from the bland limitations of only consuming what I'd been served by the media, and eventually freed me from a binary gender identity as well. Somewhere in the process, it also opened up my eyes to experiencing qualities I admired in people with a gaze looking from outside the arbitrary checkboxes of "masculine" and "feminine".

For all the benefits that I have gained through action inspired by introspection, the (ongoing) process is not without challenges. However, I can joyfully say that, for me, eating the fruits of my labors outweighs the toil of tilling the field. In short, if more of us ask ourselves the question "How do I construct desire?", we're likely to find that we find a lot more attractive. Casting a wider net benefits everyone. How wide the net might be is, of course, a personal choice, and through the casting the fisher might be surprised at what eventually ends up on their plate, pleasing their palate.

Wednesday, October 22, 2008

"Neither a woman, nor a man"


I've changed the No Boundaries URL from http://karlwithakay.blogspot.com to http://larkwithakay.blogspot.com to reflect my recent liberation from gender and name change from Karl to Lark. (Please update your bookmarks, RSS feeds, and contact info.)

Click here to continue to the new URL.

-Lark Withakay

Coming
Jimmy Somerville
Orlando OST

I am coming! I am coming!
I am coming through!
Coming across the divide to you

In this moment of unity
feeling an ecstasy
to be here, to be now
At last I am free

Yes at last, at last
to be free of the past
and of a future that beckons me

I am coming! I am coming!
Here I am!
Neither a woman, nor a man

We are joined, we are one
With the human face
We are joined, we are one
With the human face

I am on earth
And I am in outer space
I'm being born and I am dying

I am on earth
And I am in outer space
I'm being born and I am dying

I am coming! I am coming!
I am coming through!
Coming across the divide to you

In this moment of unity
feeling an ecstasy
to be here, to be now
At last I am free!

Yes at last, at last
to be free of the past
and of a future that beckons me

Yes at last, at last
to be free of the past
and of a future that beckons me

I am coming! I am coming!
Here I am!
Neither a woman, nor a man

Oh we are joined, we are one
with the human face
Oh we are joined, we are one
with the human face

At last I am free!
At last I am free!

I am on earth
And I am in outer space
I'm being born and I am dying

I am on earth
And I am in outer space
I'm being born, I am dying

At last I am free!
At last I am free!!!

Yes at last, at last, at last I'm free!
Yes at last, at last, at last I'm free!

Friday, October 10, 2008

Tell Me, Venn


"In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God."
John 1:1

"And the Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us…"
John 1:14

It didn't begin here. You weren't always being held so high. There was a time…there was a time when you bedded down with ox and ass not even three feet away. There was a time when you benefitted from the charity of three old men. There was a time when you were the student, a young man of only three and ten.

Three…

There are two others with you, but you are all alone, arms spread wide in an empty embrace. It's lonely being king. Your subjects are at your feet, but it's a long way down. You consider getting down, think about being among them again. Were you ever a part of them?

You see your mother below. Surely you were a part of her. Surely? A child's mother is never in doubt. But, what of the father? What of your father? Where is he now? You can't see him. Yet, there are things you've felt, though never seen. You've seen what got you here; you're feeling it now. This experience is a part of you.

You are the sum of your experiences: every day lived, every word read. You've lived your words. You're dying for them.

What else are you dying for?

You're dying for a dream; for an ideal; for a people. You're dying because you've decided your death will accomplish more than your life. You're dying because your flesh is real, like theirs, and this is something they can understand, something they can relate to.

Look down again. Do you see yourself among them? Or just your reflection in their skycast eyes?

"And God said, Let us make man in our image…"
Genesis 1:26

Friday, October 3, 2008

Iris


Beautiful eyes see beautiful things:
You see eyes in a mirror, framing
Your face, which frames your beauty
Dutifully giving the frame a place,
A reason to exist, to reflect
Upon the beauty it contains

Wednesday, September 24, 2008

Malo Mori Quam Foedari


Oh, you little king, checked and filled with momentous rage! Ponder your next move… Bound to lateral dimensions, you long to break free from your bored existence, surrounded by squares who view the world in black, in white, never your spectrum. Alas, the fight has gotten stale and you've tired of waiting for a better end to this game; now, part of you longs to occupy their terror, story it as your own. No, far more preferable to resign on your terms, before you conform to further defeat at their unseen hands, to fall with pride and not after dishonor.

Friday, September 19, 2008

Synæsthesia


What color, joy, to paint a smile on one's face? What sound, love, to throb and thrum with beating drum? What taste, desire, to tease tongue 'til reason's undone? What smell, happiness, to waft aromatic with memories of home?

What touch, to feel you?

I see what//I hear//what//I taste//what I smell

May I feel, too?

Thursday, September 18, 2008

Babylonian Waters


  • Miracles are what happen when we forget to remember reality as we know it, when we allow our schemas to topple, crumble, and fall away into dust.

I performed a miracle today. Twin rivers of saltwater streamed from dry eyes, washing away the hurt I felt inside.

  • Miracles need to be observed, recognized, confirmed. They need a body to witness them, to go forth and testify.

I cried in public today. This miracle was chronicled in the consciousness of another, perhaps to be forgotten in the days to come; perhaps to be remembered when the waters rise again, when I forget to remember what I think I know.

Saturday, September 13, 2008

A Stone's Throw


You still don't know how he got in, or even if he got into your cell at all. He might've just gotten into your mind to do some time. He brought light with him but it wasn't strong enough to cover you. You remained in darkness listening to his soft, sibilant voice. The conversation between the two of you still has you locked up in those moments, even as you're being strapped in.


LB: How do you feel?

You: How the fuck do you think I feel?
LB: You're angry. You think you don't belong here.

You're silent. Perhaps he'll leave if you don't respond. However, you're lonely. He's the only person you'll see before the morning crowds your vision with uniforms and cameras.

You: Why are you here?
LB: Why are you?
You: I'm not guilty.
LB: Aren't you?
You: Look, man, everybody fucking changed their story!

Now, it's your visitor that's silent. You look over at his glowing form, wondering what it would be like to cast no shadow, to always walk in the light. Funny how your mind has time to dwell on such matters. Funnier still when you remember that all you have, for these fleeting moments anyway, is time.

You: You know. You know I didn't do it.
LB: You're right. I do know that.
You: You're not going to say anything, are you? You…you could get me out of here.
LB: I could. But, I also know everything else that you did.

To end the story here would mean…well, you know quite well what it would mean. And to go on would mean more opportunities, more validation for your sentence. Wouldn't it be better to end it here? Before you run out of stones to cast? That is, if you ever had a pile to begin with…

Friday, September 12, 2008

Noh Way



You smile because the fist up your ass unfolds into a hand, bowing the corners of your mouth into a tense parody of good humor. You are simultaneously puppet and manipulator, molding your own expressed emotions to obscure the tempest within.

Thursday, September 11, 2008

Gute Nacht


Your bed is an untethered island, floating on a dream sea. Peering over the edge, the waves reflect nothing, forcing you to look deep within them, and ultimately, within yourself. You're distracted from your marine reverie by stars unseen, beckoning you from outside the blanketing clouds above: "Come, hear our whispered secrets. Sleep no more; awaken this night before the sunrise wipes the sky again and you forget our love."

You're alarmed by the rising strains of music from your speakers. Spotlighted in sun, you wipe the sleep from your eyes, trying—and failing—to focus on the blurred images of your rest. Your day begins again with another cycle of messages mixed and missed, as your fingers rhythmically flow across the keyboard, spilling words across your laptop screen. Done, your mouse scurries across your desk closing some windows, minimizing others.

The now empty screen seems to take up too much space; you feel claustrophobic. Turning away, motes of dust floating in a sunbeam remind you of something. Your bedroom window? You walk over, looking out at a paned view of the world. Muffled sounds tease your ears as your pupils contract in the glare of the sun. Your eyes wander with your mind while you wonder aimlessly about bullied stars being chased from the sky's playground by the sun. How strange that you can't see what you know is there.

Wednesday, September 10, 2008

Con-CERN


Moving from one event horizon to another, it's easy to get trapped in the moment, eternally staring back at where you came from even as your feet are pointing to where you'd like to be going. You twist 'round, watching the halo of light in front of you, and wondering when you lost yours. Far above Terra, Heaven is still nowhere to be seen and the only thing felt is a vacuum matching the void inside you. But, don't worry, all things in good time and everything in its right place: Eventually, abhorrent Nature will fill you up, feel you up, fill you in, color within your lines, scribble outside and past the boundaries of your yesterday. Eventually. For now, enjoy the still life. You're still living, after all. This is just one page out of the biophysics textbook describing your life.