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Tuesday, June 14, 2011

Normal Sex

Keeping It Queer
By Erica Chu

Normal Sex


I will try to fight the urge to sing a certain Salt-N-Pepa song right now, but the topic I want to talk about today is sex. Most of us probably grew up with certain expectations about what sex would be like. The typical narrative is that a man and a woman fall in love, fool around a bit, get married, and enjoy a reasonable amount of sex for the next several decades.

It’s clear that this narrative is not quite accurate for most.

Despite the sexual orientation of the majority of Americans, same-sex relationships have proved more suitable for a large number of us. We who are a part of the LGBTQ community have also come to respect the different narratives that we and our peers have written: some spend years frequenting cruising spots, some permanently incorporate such spaces into their lives. Some seek out and value monogamy, and others find it best to embrace open relationships, polyamory, nonmonogamy, or other forms of nontraditional sexual relationships.

As LGBTQs, we’ve all broken with the sexual narrative that has been accepted as the norm, but we don’t always notice that what is typical is changing. Most heterosexual people have also strayed from the imaginary norm. Even those who seem to fit the traditional narrative by waiting to “have sex” until they’re married tend to get quite intimate during the pre-marital “fooling around” phase, often participating in sexual acts ranging from fingering and hand jobs to oral and anal sex—the same acts that often serve as main courses for same-sex couples. Heterosexuals, like LGBTQs, are often becoming more open about their kinks, fetishes, and other sexual interests, preferences, and acts.

We have a history of making a claim to acceptance based on orientation, personhood, and identity rather than acts, preferences, and interests. The logic goes: because homosexuals exist, homosexuality should be accepted and valued. Well, other aspects of sexuality don’t always define our identities but are of value anyway. Our sexual preferences, interests, and chosen acts add great value to our experience of life, and as such can be valued and protected even if—and maybe even because—they don’t define us.

Too often, I hear folks making disparaging statements about others who have attitudes about sex that stray from the norm. For some, monogamy is the imaginary norm they’ve come to expect. For others, nonmonogamy is the expected norm for all progressive people. This column has often critiqued the category of the norm, and today is no different. The norm is imaginary, and the norm is often oppressive. The majority’s experience is not a just reason to determine the lives of the minority, and the minority’s experience cannot be the ruler by which we measure further marginalized minorities or even the majority.

Whatever choices you make, whatever preferences and interests influence your life, don’t think for a moment that you are normal. And don’t think for a moment that you should even want to be. That being said, we’d be unwise to discard all manner of sexual ethics. Though sexual ethics will vary based on our own values, partner expectations, and ethical communities, the BDSMers have a creed that’s an excellent starting point: be safe, sane, and consensual.

Erica Chu is a student at Loyola University Chicago and is seeking a PhD in English with a concentration in Women Studies and Gender Studies. They manage the blog keepingitqueer.blogspot.com and can be reached at ericachu@msn.com.

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