How the Stereo Shattered the Closet

Again, leave it to AfterEllen.com to encourage discussions on various coming out subjects. This particular topic seems tailored for this blog and this blogette right here.

Trish Bendix launched a survey around the e-water cooler with her fellow writers and I am compelled to respond. "The Soundtrack To Your Sexuality" -- what song/album/artist formed the soundtrack to your coming out?

I could not resist.

It's difficult to pick out individual tracks. Plus, most of the songs I attribute to coming out are based on a reflective stance. Most of the music comes from the days I term the "proto-lesbian times" when I was still unaware of who I was. As for the later years, I don't have tracks I associate with for the sheer fact of coming out. There were other events going on at that point while I was still mulling through my own identity politics.

Anyhow, too much chat.

Here are the main tunes and artists on the soundtrack to my coming out:

The Beatles: Now, I know I made a post on this about one year ago (May 25, 2009: "Speaking of Origins....") but it still holds true. My Dad made it his mission to teach us kids about the bands he worshipped and, yes, The Beatles were my favourite band by the time I was six-years-old. However, their lyrics had the opposite effect on me. Instead of imagining myself as the love interest of the Fab Four, I found myself falling for the women in their songs. Stand out tracks include: "Lovely Rita," "Long Tall Sally," "I Saw Her Standing There," and "Back in the U.S.S.R." -- huh, in that brief survey alone, it appears Paul McCartney had the biggest hand in my coming out. Congrats, Macca. I still find myself swooning over the women depicted here. I'm pretty certain when I fall in love for the first time, The Beatles will find their way onto numerous mix CDs I will make for her...

"Don't Speak," No Doubt: I know, it's a break-up song. But, as indicated above, the young Moffatt did not interpret lyrics in the standard form. Without delving into great detail, I associate this track with the great loss of a great girl. In reflection, I believe she was likely the first love of my life -- it was subconscious, though, which is why I do not count her as the official first love. Still, it brings me back to grade six each time.

Third Eye Blind: Most people write off this group and I bite my thumb at them. Their self-titled debut is the living soundtrack of my thirteen-year-old self. It is vivid for me and I still register physical reactions to most of their tracks. The album was released in 1997, but I did not stumble across it for an additional two years. Still, the effect it has on me is beyond words. It is the soundtrack for the clearest and happiest moments of that year, the heart-shattering events, and the first expressions of confusion I went through regarding that fragile sexual identity of mine. I can remember the people I dedicated each song to. Complex emotional ties to 3EB -- some might laugh, but the album will always hold a great significance for me.

As for the high school and undergrad years, I don't have the same palpable connection between music and the coming out process. I don't know that I used music to nurse me through those internal discussions and those personal revelations. I know Queens of the Stone Age hold a special spot for O'Neill and I in relation to our friendship and our first faltering steps out of the closet as adults, but I wouldn't point to an album or a song to depict it.

Strange.

So there, another music-themed post for this week at Cute, Queer, Canadian. I'm sure I've tuckered out all the ears across the Blogosphere with the bands and/or artists I've been forcing onto readers this week. I'm just full of cheek, aren't I?

And now, I turn this question over to you -- what songs impressed themselves onto your coming out years? What sort of impact lingers there?

I'm all ears.

Gay Gal, Straight-ish Past: The Reconciliation Act

There's a new issue that's presented itself since I first started my campaign to out myself en masse -- what to do with this straight-ish past of mine?

Now, granted -- I do not possess a detailed dating past. AT ALL. In fact, the longest relationship I've ever been in was exactly five months.

(It was a relationship that should have ended after three weeks.)

Mmm hmm.

Still though, I'm faltering with the whole reconciliation of past and present. I mean, I went through about a four- or five-year period where I genuinely identified as a bi woman. I faced and fought biphobia within the queer community on our campus, I tried one doomed relationship with a boy I lived with in second year, and I eventually realized I was DEFINITELY a gay gal after one magical night of spin the bottle.

After the whirling internal confusion and the pressing external evidence, I came to the one conclusion: When I pictured how I wanted to be loved and how I wanted to relate with a partner, I could only see a woman there.

And I've never looked back.

However, I still hesitate to talk about that younger version of myself. She was the girl who gossiped about boys and wrote about her "dream guy" to her journals and obsessed over her perceived failure when it came to attracting the gents. I find that girl to be a distant echo or some kind of blurry figure against my current horizons.

But there are still real emotions there. When I talk about the guy I dated in second year, I still feel that sharp embarrassment while remembering what I put up with. And I still sense that awkwardness and that desire to never speak with him again. I mean, I am certain he's a heavily closeted gay man -- takes one former closet case to know another, right? So, why is there still a lingering hurt when I think of that time? And why do I struggle to talk about those experiences in the present tense?

Even if I wasn't outright attracted to him, how do I speak about a past hetero relationship without compromising this genuine life as a queer woman?

I know that my identity as a queer woman is one of those fundamental, central visions of myself. I don't question that at all. It's just those high school crushes and that weird period as a straight girlfriend that's throwing me off.

I'm curious to know if this is a common concern among queer women who have dated men in the past. Can you reconcile both versions of yourself, or do you choose to ignore those days as a misguided youth? Are you willing to discuss those times in detail, or do you just focus on your more recent relationships with women?

Mmm... identity politics are best mulled over before an epic weekend. T.G.I.F. indeed.

Lovers of Literature

I realized just now that this will mark the first post where I share a real-life crush with all you lovely readers out there.

Ooh, pressure's on.

Right, so -- poetry class. I signed myself up for this creative writing course during the second year of my undergrad degree (Winter 2006). I was bubbly and bright-eyed at the thought of meeting other writers and sharing collections of poems and just generally exploring the English language for the sport of it.

And there she was.

I get distracted easily, it would appear.

She was a year older than me, a theatre major with a penchant for Shakespeare's Ophelia, and.... she had this pesky boyfriend by the name of Mark. *Mumble, grumble* I guess I can't complain too much, though -- I met her while I was in the middle of a brief experimentation with the hetero world. I suppose you could say my crush on her helped me confirm my queerness. (I know, she was THAT gorgeous, if you can imagine.)

On Tuesday afternoons, I was given the gift of three precious, poetry-laden hours with the Girl Wonder herself. From January to April, she and I sat beside one another and exchanged verse filled with our fantasies, our insecurities, and other aspects of our private lives. She tried to convince me of the merits of Margaret Atwood (who is still my sworn literary enemy, FYI) and I tried to convince her that girls were far hotter than boys. 

Alright, that last one is a lie -- it's what I wanted to do, trust me. But heck, to be the semester confidante of a girl like that was still a nice concession. And getting to share poetry with her on a weekly basis only helped to sweeten the deal.

And hey, she also taught me the sheer hotness that home-made Valentine's gifts can be. That year, she made a sensual board game for her boyfriend that ended with -- SURPRISE! Sex. I believe her direct description was "That way, EVERYONE WINS." *Melts*

I lost touch with her once our notebooks were shut for the semester, though. Ah, the tragedy, the lament! It's the stuff of epic poems.... or, well, at least an angst-ridden sonnet or two. I saw her in one or two other English lectures, but we were running with two different crowds and never seemed to cross paths again. Still, I look back on those times with a grin and a twirly heart, no doubt.

And, on an odd twist -- I saw her once again on stage at the 2007 GQE Kink Night performing in a burlesque show with another one of my major undergrad crushes. 

See? Maybe not all tragedies end in tears. No, sometimes, they end with partial nudity and a seductive, public striptease. 

I would definitely recommend the latter.

Fag/Hag 2.0: The Next Generation

O'Neill and I fancy ourselves to be a bit of an anomaly to the queer community.

If you will allow me to cater to the stereotypes for a moment, it would appear that the gay girl/gay boy friendship is an impossible occurrence. 

Throughout my undergrad experience, it was unmistakable that the queers were divided -- the lesbians tended to split off and form their own entourages and the gay gents mingled with the other boys and a select collection of straight girls for the most part. Aside from the monthly campus events and the Thursday bar nights, the gay girls and boys rarely interacted with one another. We were civil, of course -- but it was difficult to move past the usual pleasantries.

Enter: O'Neill and I.

We came out to one another first before we entered The Scene. We bonded over detailed high school secrets, our shared difficulties on the home front, and hell, we even revealed our matching crushes on the Gyllenhaal siblings. (Maggie for me, Jake for him, naturally). We balanced one another and kept each other grounded through the toughest, the strangest, and the most exhilarating moments of our young lives.

And we also seemed to raise a few eyebrows as a result.

A mutual (and also gay) friend of ours revealed a bizarre and confusing idea that had been circulating throughout our campus' queer community after my and O'Neill's initial debut -- folks were under the impression the two of us were dating. Dating? .... Huh?

To elaborate, it turns out the crowd interpreted us as a "bi-curious girl with an extremely supportive boyfriend" -- I mean.... what? Really? Granted, I now use this story to gloat over the fact that I'm "more gay" than O'Neill, however, that does not help to mask the strange assumption at the root of this story.

According to the status quo, hetero and homo alike -- a gay girl and a gay boy cannot be best friends.

What a sad and baffling conclusion.

That tired and restrictive notion that women and men can NEVER be 'just friends' has somehow managed to worm its way into a social group connected by their same-sex attraction.

... How did this ever come about? I can't even pretend to know. What I do know is my undergrad experience within the queer community was defined by this assumption. I often got the impression the girls were suspicious of me, acting as though I was poised to infiltrate their female-centred world or something to that effect. It was disorienting at best, but it taught me the true value of that one friend who would always understand me.

O'Neill and I reflected on it all one evening as we attempted to define our friendship status.

Fag Hag couldn't grasp it -- I am definitely not a straight girl, so that was ruled out.

Fag/Fag Hag seemed redundant.... and I felt strange about having the term 'fag' attached to my title (haha, though 'hag' is apparently more acceptable).

... Lo, we turned to Fag/Hag 2.0: The Next Generation of Queer Friendships. I like to think of HAG as an acronym: Hot And Gay. I figure it sums me up rather well. *Checks her ego at the door*

Who knew that a friendship could seem this revolutionary? 

No. 1: Natalie Portman

Name: Natalie Portman

Date of Birth: 9 June, 1981

Hometown: Jerusalem, Israel/New York City, New York

Selected Career Credits:

• New York, I Love You (2008)... Rifka ("Mira Nair")
• The Other Boleyn Girl (2008)... Anne Boleyn
• Paris, je t'aime (2006)... Francine ("Faubourg Saint-Denis")
• V for Vendetta (2005)... Evey
• Closer (2004)... Alice
• Garden State (2004)... Sam

Harem Role: Head of the Harem Proper/ Chief Launderer

***

And here she is, the Golden Child of the Harem Proper. At long last, after about... three weeks of my teasing, we have reached the absolute pinnacle of hotness (well, according to my preferences, of course) and she is -- Natalie Portman.

Think about it:

• Overflowing with a natural, effortless talent for the dramtic arts
• Balances eloquence and grace with an equally adorable nerdiness
• Put her career on hold to obtain a bachelor's degree in Psychology.... FROM HARVARD
• Is a high-profile vegetarian and is an outspoken advocate for animal rights
• Travelled to Uganda, Guatemala, and Ecuador as the Ambassador of Hope for FINCA International
• Oh, and -- SHE'S SMOKIN' HOT.

Can't forget that last one, you know. Serious, though -- she's the kind of girl that intimidates the HELL out of me... which only makes me love and adore her even more.

I can still pinpoint the exact moment I became infatuated with the lovely Ms. Portman. I was only 11-years-old, smack dab in the middle of the Awkward Years. I was given a subscription to Seventeen magazine and was excited each month to flip through the high-gloss pages and dream of the day when I would be a ~teenager~ at last. What a glorious notion at the time.

I remember unfurling one particular issue of Seventeen with a cover that would brand itself into my mind and lay the groundwork for my future Harem.

Ladies and... well, ladies -- it was this exact photo of Natalie Portman that found its way to my mailbox on that fateful afternoon:

I know -- it's a simple headshot of a girl who was not a star, not quite yet. But I remember being so taken with her when I first saw the image. I had that breathless moment, a moment 

amplified by the fact I was nowhere close to even being out to myself. I was debating if I should include this photo in this particular post -- I mean, she's a young'un in that picture and I wanted to celebrate Ms. Portman as she is here and now. But this photo reminds me of those early days of my own self-discovery and I see it as one of those important markers in my coming out process. 

I mean, with that kind of legacy, is it any wonder she's my go-to gal?

Since that single moment back in grade 6, Natalie Portman has managed to orbit around the most influential periods in my life. I watched her in the newer Star Wars flicks through the ups and downs of high school living; I saw Closer in theatres around the time I was first accepting my queerness; I watched Garden State at a Sunday night cinema with the two guys who would become my closest allies during my undergrad; I spent St. Patrick's Day in 2005 walking 2 and a half hours back from seeing V for Vendetta -- it also happened to be the same moment I realized my one real try at the hetero-lifestyle was not going to click, ever. 

It's like the universe was pointing a giant, glowing arrow at Natalie Portman and saying, "YOU ARE SO GAY, MIZ MOFFATT, JUST ADMIT IT ALREADY."

Haha, this is turning into quite the origin rant. I hadn't intended on that, honestly. But, I suppose that proves why Natalie Portman is the uncontested Queen of the Harem Proper.

Alright -- that's my ramblin' for this evening. I shall leave you with some Portman gems for you to glance over. Please, do revel in the wonder that is NP. 

 I vote she wears her hair short from now on... serious, now.

OHHHH, the pink wig....I'm surprised I was able to walk out of the theatre after seeing that film. All you need is Clive Owen out of the scene, and it's perfect. 

I defy you to watch this clip and NOT fall wildly in love with Natalie's darker side. I mean, look at her -- she's feisty, frenetic, and she's frontin' a group of lovely ladies. I swear, she is perfect... and also apparently badass.

I was an English major/history minor during my undergrad and, when I found this picture, my head nearly exploded across the reams and reams of lecture notes strewn about my room.

***

And thus concludes the epic profiles dedicated to the gorgeous, radiant women of Miz Moffatt's Harem. Stop by the villa sometime for a visit -- make sure to bring your Harem with you, too.

Speaking of Origins....

... Am I confusing you yet?

The Beatles? On a blog about queer women?..... Where you goin' with this, Moffatt??

I got to pondering about origin stories thanks to Wolverine and his aptly-titled new film. And The Beatles are, quite possibly, the greatest chapter in my Coming Out Origin Story.

I grew up in a house filled with music. My Dad has played in countless bands since he was a teenager and he went to great lengths impressing a diverse selection of music on my sister, my brother, and myself.

And naturally, The Beatles were introduced to us at a VERY early age. Once the excitement and wonder I felt for Sharon, Lois, and Bram and Sesame Street wore off, The Beatles took their place as The Greatest Band EVER (according to Moffatt). Who knew the British Invasion would continue well into the 1990s? Go figure.

Between the ages of six and nine, I was ecstatic over the tapes (yes, cassette tapes) my Dad would present me with each Christmas. It was a whole new world of melodies and rock 'n' roll to obsess over for the new year..... and it was all supporting a kind of preconscious attraction to women through the power of catchy lyrics.

Quoi?

It's true -- some would call it "misinterpretation," but I prefer to think of it as "Dyke-ification." Instead of imagining myself as the object of the singer's attention, I found myself identifying with The Fab Four and their penchant for beautiful, free-spirited women.

The lure of "Long Tall Sally" and "Lovely Rita" were too much for my pre-adolescent mind to handle. 

And, oh, the promise of a song like "Back In The USSR": Gorgeous girls from the Ukraine, Moscow, and Georgia, all playing their balalaikas and keeping "[their] comrade warm" -- I mean, OBviously I should have been their comrade, am I right?

I wanted to be the chivalrous singer of "You're Gonna Lose That Girl" and rescue my dream girl from her deadbeat boyfriend.

I wanted to find "just the girl for me" and I would "want all the world to see we've met," just like Paul sings it in "I've Just Seen A Face."

I wanted to feel the fresh, compelling, and all-too-magnetic pull of the girl depicted in "I Saw Her Standing There" (even IF she was "just seventeen".... though I would have still been in elementary school when I first heard that track, so it was the lure of the ~older woman~ working there).

Even now, I sit and listen to The Beatles with a sly grin and a wink to my younger self. So, not only do their songs form the soundtrack to the carefree period of my childhood, their music has formed the basis of my identity as a queer woman.

Impressive, to say the least.

I doff my hat to thee, John, Paul, George, and Ringo. 

I'M OUT! I'M IN!

"I'M OUT! I'M IN!".... Or some other hilarious lyrics quoted from a song I wrote with a friend in high school. 

Serious, though -- it's the obligatory "coming out" post that I am now dedicating to this blog. I know, I know... I can sense the eyes rolling from where I type.

"Why does every queer blog have to dredge up the past and play it out in another dull coming out story?"

I, for one, think the process/adventure/occasional nightmare is a valuable one. While the knowledge that my life will consist of a perpetual "coming  out" is.... well, daunting at best, I am aware that the constant construction/rearrangement of this particular tale is one of the foundational parts of me (and, I think it might just be one of those core pieces of yourself, too).

I currently straddle the lines between "out" and "in," a position I'm aiming to change in the next-to-near future.

While I was fulfilling my four years as a plucky undergrad, I was out. SO out. In fact, it was in my first year of university that I even named myself to other people. I can still remember O-Week and all the pink triangles and chalk rainbows that led me to a Queer Equality picnic held at one of the most public places on campus. Hoo, was THAT ever a nerve-wracking experience.

I think the defining moment for me was the first CampOut meeting I ever attended and - LO! The topic: Coming out. Imagine it -- a trembling, little 18-year-old clutching the sides of her chair and saying, "Hi, um.... my name is (Miz Moffatt) and...... well, this is my coming out." I was met with such overwhelming support (which is none too surprising, considering the crowd). Can you imagine? The first people I came out to were complete strangers. I needed to find definite support before I would even risk telling the people closest to me.

Now, the tally is still a modest one:

• Ian, Colin, and Andrew: The gents I lived with while at school 
• Chantal: My best friend from high school
• My sister .... though we never, EVER discuss it

Alas -- I'm still rather "in" by most standards, I'd imagine. I'm not out to the majority of my high school friends, my brother, or my parents. As odd as it might sound, I almost feel that it.... devalues me. I've come across such a large number of women who wouldn't even cast me a second glance if they knew I wasn't out to my parents. I can understand the hesitation there, though -- coming out is quite enough stress on its own, let alone going through it with someone else. Still, it's worrisome to feel this kind of pressure from the queer community to out yourself even while it might contradict your current social situation.

Ah, but this is a common thread in most personal stories, isn't it? 

I find myself daydreaming of the time when I can relax my concerns and walk about with a shrug and a smile close at hand.

.... Though, I think the particularly dyke-ish poem I showed around during first year (including to my parents) has probably paved most of the way for me....... that could also explain why no one has been surprised after I came out to them yet.... *Ponders this*