In a post from a few days ago, I wrote about the ways a certain class subjectivity can squeeze its way into a potentially romantic encounter. [Alas, there was no romance in that particular encounter.] One of the things I find fascinating is the ways our social locations influence how we understand and interact with the world, and those who occupy it.
I just finished reading Foucault’s History of Sexuality (yes, all three volumes). Aside from feeling a little like stabbing myself in the forehead, I also find myself wondering how sexual desire was experienced–how it felt–during the 600 or so years Foucault was describing. It’s all well and good to describe the moral reflection that went on surrounding the role of sexual activity, but that still seems inadequate. We can look at the moral reflection of an ear, the institutional arrangements, the first-hand accounts in diaries or letters, but we’ll always, to some degree or another, be filtering those things through our own subjectivities. What I want, and know is impossible, is to get inside the consciousness of people living in those social positions other than my own, a pure intersubjectivity. (Sometimes I want this; there are things I don’t want to know…how someone like Jeffrey Dahmer experienced desire, for instance.)
The sexual identities we claim today are relatively new in human history. I don’t want to dig too deeply into Foucault’s work right now, but a primary argument from Volume 1 is that the modern era witnessed the creation of sexuality: With the rise of bureaucratic apparatuses of state management, and with population becoming a problem of administration, along with the proliferation of specialized domains of knowledge, and a social demand to talk about sex flowing from the confessional, a new form of social organization was conjured into being: sexuality.
All of these social processes (re)produce practices, institutions, and meanings around questions of sex. So, sexual activity is not only organized by these institutions, but also (in it’s potential or realized form) organizes them (think, for instance, of zoning laws; the types and amounts of material (sexual or not) determine where a business may be located.) They also shape individuals. Our identities, and our desires, are shaped by our social milieux.
Recently, there was a minor controversy over whether or not Abraham Lincoln was gay. Well, of course he wasn’t. He may or may not have “known” Joshua Speed, but he certainly wasn’t gay. In the time of Lincoln’s life, the thought of organizing one’s life around the object of sexual desire, and of making that desire a central part of his social identity would have seemed absurd. It wouldn’t be until later that “the homosexual” would come into being (along with its–at the time–aberrant compatriot, “the heterosexual”). It makes no sense to attribute contemporary desires to historical figures, as their and our desires are shaped in different contexts and will be experienced differently.
One of the problems with such essentializing moves is that they distort. For instance, one can only describe marriage as heterosexual if it means involving members of the opposite sex. However, if we take “heterosexuality” to be a specific historical formation, then we can say that marriage has only recently been heterosexual. That may be a semantic difference to many people, but it has important implications. It forces us to look at the institutional mechanisms by which heterosexuality and modern marriage are co-constitutive. It also forces us to look at the changing dynamics of marriage historically–the roles and number of partners, the rules and regulations for entry and exit, the rights and privileges assigned the members of the marriage–and the marriage itself…all these things point to a constantly changing formation. But that’s not the point for today. The point is how these changes, related as they are to larger social change, shape our own sexual subjectivities.
In his look at the development of “gay” communities in late 19th and early 20th Century New York, George Chauncey writes:
This heterosexual identity arose first in the middle classes, in part as a reactionary mechanism to reestablish their own “manly credibility.” It was in this professional/managerial class, where non-physical labor was becoming more prominent, that “masculine” and “heterosexual” first merged. Heterosexuality, thus, was in many ways a reactive identity. Its deployment was used to shore up those whose masculinity was suspect.
I’m kind of wondering how that has changed. In his recent book, Beyond the Closet, Steven Seidman notes, from interview data, that many young people still deploy a heterosexual identity in this manner. Behind this deployment of an identity is, I would guess, a feeling that it’s necessary to put one’s identity out there–it’s relevant to the situation in some way, at least in the mind of the person making such moves.
One of the most effective educational tools queer movements have used is the speakers’ bureau, where a panel of folks allows an audience to throw any sort and number of questions about queer existence at them. I’ve tried to turn that around in a couple classrooms to ask heterosexuals similar questions. Interestingly, much of the conversation has focused on meeting members of the opposite sex (once, I ended up asking the men and women in my class if they really even liked each other). We haven’t, however, managed to delve into issues of identity deployment and subjectivity
So, this kind of gets me to the question at the start of this piece (and a few related ones), and it’s mainly for my heterosexual friends:
- What’s it like to be straight?
- When are you aware of your heterosexuality?
- When are you unaware of it?
- Under what circumstances do you make heterosexual identity claims, and why?
[Crossposted at dailyKos.]
WHat’s it like to be straight? Hmmm….isn’t that a bit like asking what it’s like to be white?
When you’re white you don’t really think about being white. You just are. I imagine it’s similar with sexuality.
I guess I am aware of my heterosexuality every time I see a man with at least one awesome body part: broad shoulders, nice hands, his sleeves rolled up to the good part of the forearm, the look of his bare feet coming out of the leg of his levis. Mmm.
The other day I actually struggled with explaining my sexuality to someone on this site. I had expressed a desire to find an inclusive church (after years of being a lapsed catholic) and it was clear that the people who responded to me thought I was gay. It was kind of funny how much I wanted them to know that I wasn’t gay (not that there’s anything wrong with it.)
And there’s the rub–why did you want them to know? I’m really curious, not trying to cast aspersions, but that’s kind of the juicy stuff I wanna dig into. π
That’s the weird part! I don’t know why! The first person who commented talked about “open and inclusive” churches and gave me some websites, which I checked out and they were clearly for gay people interested in finding a good church. I kind of chuckled and thought…well isn’t this a hoot that someone thinks I’m gay? Then there was another comment and I was kind of bothered. Like, what would it be like for people to think I was gay? What about other members of BooTrib who thought I was straight…would they now start to wonder?
The kicker is that when I announced I wasn’t gay, the commenter announced that neither was he/she…but joked about getting a recruitment bonus from the “gay agenda? folks. So clearly he/she thought it was important for me to know that he/she was straight as well.
that’s exactly the thing…
part of the whole issue is that identity claims are, at least in part, claims to power. We queer folks have often used such claims to say, “we, too, are entitled to be public in public spaces.” In social spaces like this, it’s a somewhat less necessary thing.
I think that was demonstrated in the conversation on my previous post…the fact that I was going on a date with a man was something of a non-factor. I, and everyone else, treated it completely matter-of-factly. There was less of a claim to space that was previously unavaiilable and more of an acknowledgement that the space was available to all. I didn’t need to make an explicity identity claim, though I did make an implicit one…ok, I’m not sure if any of that makes sense, so I’m gonna stop right here.
This is really interesting to me, but way over my head.
I thought at the time that my correcting the assumption that I was gay was akin to correcting any incorrect assumption about myself, but I did a bit of self-reflection about it both before responding and then later and I think it was somehow important for them to know that I was straight. There you have it. I thought I was a nice person, but I am clearly a bigoted shit. π
lol
I do over analyze things from time to time…I’m just curious. I think part of it has become for a lot of people, just a correction of misperception and nothing else–a, “no, this is who i really am” and less of a defensive “I’m certainly not one of those” type of thing.
I think that’s been a big change over the past 10 years or so.
was that you’re gay…more of a “good place to start” sort of thing — after all, a church that ISN’T “open and inclusive” isn’t likely to be a place most progressives would feel comfortable at, most likely.
And the jokes about “recruiting bonuses” for the “Gay Agenda” have been around probably since the Anita Bryant days; I forget which gay comic told the first toaster oven joke…
Speaking of jokes, Al Franken has a good one in this vein:
Q. Which is harder, being black or being gay?
A. Being gay is harder…because you don’t have to tell your parents you’re black.
And another odd question…sorry to pepper you…are you aware of your heterosexuality when you see that good body part? (add the right kind of arm hair to the forearm, and I’m right there with ya) Is it something that makes you aware of your heterosexual idenity, or is it just the fun little feeling in the tummy and loins?
THat’s hard to answer. It probably starts with that funny feeling in points south, which verifies (?) that I am indeed straight?
Funny thing is…I also greatly appreciate seeing beautiful body parts of women. But more in a curious/envious sort of way.
Hmmm….verification…I dunno. My guess, is that your “heterosexuality” is actually absent in those moments, if ya know what I mean. It may get integrated and attached to it later, but is it there consciously at the moment, or is it more of a “mmmmmmmmm”?
that you wanted them to know you weren’t gay, and this desire certainly didn’t make you a bigot. You want to be known accurately. Certainly, this makes sense pragmatically (such as if you were approached by a guy you were attracted romatically to — or by a woman to whom you weren’t). But it also makes sense emotionally. Imagine that you were somehow considered to be the author of a book that had actually been written by someone with the same name, and people kept on referring to you as the author — or say that the people around you somehow came up with the mistaken belief that you had been in a car crash but didn’t want to talk about it. There’s nothing morally wrong with having written a book or suffered a car crash, but neither characteristic pertains to you, and it’s awkward to be surrounded by others’ incorrect assumptions.
stretch marks
What’s it like? I don’t think about it. Even when I lived in a gay neighborhood, I didn’t think about it.
When am I aware of it? Whenever I see an attractive woman, or when a not so attrative one shows an interest in me.
When am I unaware? Don’t understand the question.
When do I make identitiy claim? After high school, I’ve never made such claims. Can’t think of any circumstances where I’d feel the need to do so, unless to clear up some misunderstanding. Oh, I guess if a gay guy showed interest in me, I’d say, “Sorry…”
BTW, since you describe heterosexuality as a construct, and I agree that it is, your questions are hard to answer. I mean, I’ve liked girls ever since the 1st grade, at least. But that’s different from being “aware of my heterosexuality,” no?
I’d say “yes and no” (of course)…I think the “heterosexual” aspect of those attractions would be when you started to give meaning to them, to name them…you had to learn that those desires made you a straight person…if that makes any sense.
For me, that’s an odd question, because, on reflection, being straight doesn’t appear to be a major part of my identity. Yes, I am attracted to women (well, mostly attracted to women, but a very large mostly). But much of the time, it simply doesn’t register. I’ve been friends with gay people for months (or, in a couple of unusual cases, a year or two) without noticing their preference until someone pointed it out to me. And having people think I’m gay (or, in a couple of really unusual cases online, female) doesn’t really bother me, except for the fact that they have incorrect information, which may lead to embarrassing behaviour.
I tend to be aware of it when near women I am specifically attracted to. But it’s sort of a non-localized phenomena.
For me being straight makes me rather painfully aware of the prejudice friends of mine who are gay either encounter or by the way they have to at times hide the fact(in business etc). Or I should say not hide the fact but not make it specifically known.
I was most aware of being heterosexual when I was at gay bars with friends..mostly due to the fact if someone tried to pick me up I’d have to say I wasn’t interested in them and if they persisted tell them why.(which can bring about another set of problems because some people there then wondered what I was doing there in the first place).
I’ve always rather wondered at the notion of heterosexuality as a cosmic joke…meaning it would seem more logical to me to be attracted to someone of the same sex as you would be more aware of that body than one of the opposite sex. Does that make sense? I also think that being bisexual would be a more perfect world but that would probably freak to many people out.
So I hope it’s okay for me to sneak a comment in here.
It’s interesting to watch the straight people (like I’m at the zoo) talk about not being generally aware of their heterosexuality, but then naming moments of awareness of it wholly conflated with moments of desire, however fleeting.
Maybe because I’m queer, maybe not, maybe I’m just the odd man out (which is frequently the case), I find this completely baffling. I am practically never aware of my sexuality in moments of desire–in fact, I think that aside from the first few months I was consciously aware of being attracted to other women, any time I feel attraction or desire is a time when I’m the least aware of my status as ‘queer’. This holds even if I am feeling attraction to a man. Sexual desire and attraction, when I’m experiencing them, are just sense-certainty (a la Hegel) sorts of things. The part of my brain that processes concepts like social identity and which category a body may be in due to its construction shuts up when I’m feeling those kinds of things.
Was noticing the exact same thing.
As I noted, the questions were unclear or the purpose behind them was unclear.
When I see a hot woman, yes, I feel a sexual attraction. But I don’t think, “Gee, I’m a heterosexual!” So, you’re right about it being different than processing social identities, and I doubt that’s what the others were suggesting either.
I didn’t mean that I was understanding that y’all were thinking something intellectual in those moments, just that it was interesting to me to see that, when asked about it, those were the moments that came to mind for a few of you.
By contrast, if I were going to answer a question like, “When are you aware of your non-heterosexuality?”, what would come to mind first for me is a slew of instances where being heterosexual receives social privileges. And those are distinctly non-sexualized sites. Here are some past examples:
There’s a family discount at the local gym but you have to be married or related by blood to get it, so paying dues at the gym would be an instance where I was suddenly acutely aware of my sexual orientation as not-straight, when a moment before, listening to my mp3 player and approaching the desk, I was not at all aware of being queer. When I’ve done the tax work for my significant other and myself, I’ve been acutely aware of my sexual orientation because I’ve got to check boxes that mean different things mathematically than had we been able to be married, whereas a moment before we were just going about our daily lives. When we’ve been in the grocery store together and I want to kiss her cheek because she says something adorable, then I have to look around and make sure the space is safe and we’re unlikely to get bashed in the parking lot, I’m aware, when a second before I was just thinking about which vegetables to buy. Things like that. Things associated with sexual identity, but not moments of desire or sexual attraction (even if that last one is affection-related).
the talk about gays and lesbians “flaunting” their “homesexuality” in public. I started to prepare a list to send to the local paper on ways that I, as a “straight” married woman (I’m bisexual, but because I fell in love with a man choose to identify as straight). As best as I can reconstruct it, here’s what I came up with:
That’s just a few of the things I thought of…and all those things I can do without fear of funny looks, condemnation, or “Ewwww, gross!” comments in the women’s (or men’s) bathrooms.
I was fortunate to have my first job at a company that was “gay-friendly”, albeit in a low-key way. There weren’t domestic partner benefits (those weren’t even thought of back in the early 1980s), but if you did a good job at work, the company couldn’t care less what you did on the weekends as long as you kept your ass out of jail and made it to the office Monday morning. One of my best friends, Mike, talked about going out with his “roommate”, Patrick, just as I would talk about my latest romantic misadventures; I didn’t even think to question a relationship like that for some reason. And there was Bill in Accounting and his partner who worked in the San Jose warehouse. And many years later, I heard about two of the younger guys, who died of AIDS (though one may have been from drug use, the reason he’d been let go by the company).
When all these conservatives talk about gays and lesbians “flaunting their homosexuality”, people get pictures of wild same-sex orgies in the streets of the Castro District. They’d probably be very surprised to find that the lives of most gays and lesbians are just as boring as the lives of most straights. Hell, the spouse didn’t propose to me at the top of the Eiffel Tower, so not all straights are like Tom and Katie.
Just a thought…
Not that there’s anything wrong with wild same-sex orgies in the Castro. π
Ahem. So did you ever send that letter to your local paper? If so, what happened?
but it never got printed…either (a) too controversial, or (b) too wordy (more likely).
[Note: I just re-read my post and noticed I typed “homesexuality” instead of “homosexuality”…”homesexuality” sounds like someone who watches waaaaay too much “Trading Spaces” on TLC… π
Bad wording in my comment, I’m afraid. Though I’m not quite sure what the right way to put it is.
part of it, i think, is that we often don’t think in the terms I was using–sexuality is so often taken as an intrinsic part of who we are…i was flowing more in the direction of identities as shifting and situational…it is a problem of language, of finding ways to describe things we’re not used to describing, to denaturalize the natural.
But as you said, it wasn’t always taken as an intrinsic part of who we are, and I’m not sure mine is. I think it’s more that, in the situation I described above, I’m more immediately aware of its existence, as opposed to aware of what it is.
Though in general, this is a hard problem. It’s the self-analysis problem. Basically, humans are really, really bad at working out how and why we act the way we do.
it makes sense…the aware of its existence at times as opposed to what it is…i think the “what it is” is something we make out of it–it’s not inherent in the situation…i think…
That’s basically, I think, what it comes down to. For some people, the subject of their sexual attraction is made into (subordinate to?) part of their social status and identity. Often, this seems to be those who are uncomfortable with the possibility that they’re something else – conservatives afraid they might be gay, for example. So they latch onto these feelings of attraction towards women as proof of their social status and role.
What you’re really asking about, I think, is awareness of the label heterosexual as opposed to simple awareness of attraction to the opposite sex. For me, it’s never.
ok, yeah, i guess the label is part of what i’m asking about…and how the label is connected to a sense of identity…the sense of noticing belonging in that category.
a liberal blog is the best place for getting juicy answers on this. π
Carl Everett (ChiSox player who recently made homophobic remarks) would probably say he’s aware of his heterosexuality all the time, and he could probably give countless examples.
At the A’s game this afternoon, the camera kept showing some fans with a sign protesting Everett, with “We don’t believe Carl Everett,” or something like that. But they mostly kept returning to that group cause they were wearing funny outfits: one was Santa Claus, one was in a spacesuit… Lol. It was pretty funny.
IIRC, Everett also said that he thought that the moon landing was faked, that dinosaurs never existed, etc.
Would fit in well with your average fundie congregation, probably…
and reading through the comments…I’m thinking that sexual attraction as it occurs is just that, sexual attraction. Seems to me that we have similar feelings, without assigning labels like “Gee, I’m heterosexually (or homosexually) attracted to that guy with the great biceps or nice behind or whatever.” Kind of universal, we just have different “types” we are attracted to. Is that what you’re asking about/thinking?
that’s part of it, yeah…the identity categories themselves shape certain things (people are shocked when I tell them I think Iman is the most gorgeous woman alive–as though I wouldn’t recognize female beauty), and the like. That’s also the stuff we’ve placed on top of sexual attraction (oh, my god, what does my attraction make me, we’ve made the attractions a determinant of the type of person we are.) But also, the categories we’re placed in do shape the ways we experience certain attractions…i know i’m more wary of expressing it under certain circumstances…that sort of thing…
So are you saying that for you it may be more of a “Mmm!” thought/feeling, followed by an awareness of “wait a minute, maybe this other person might be uncomfortable with my attraction to him?” Whereas, such thoughts are pretty remote for me as a heterosexual woman looking at a man I find interesting?
In that case, I say the sexual attraction feelings are similar for both of us, but our first response to them may be pretty different, depending on the situation.
you’re probably right about the initial feeling…i was thinking of those moments where expressing my attraction might get me beat up…there’s an instance awareness and reaction to my own desire.
Then, I think Booman has summed it up very well below. Being straght doesn’t carry the same awareness and self-censoring that you’re talking about, it’s more of a non-issue because we’re in the majority.
but I have to confess I don’t really get it.
For me, I find men interesting, but I have no sexual desire for them, and never have. I never had a moment of awareness that I was straight, and I never think about my straightness.
I’ve never been misrepresented as being gay (other than as a general insult, not meant literally), so the only time I’ve ever had to make ‘heterosexual claims’ is when I have been hit-on by men. And that is just an act of informing someone I am not interested, not really a claim at all.
As for the opposite sex, I have been attracted to girls, and thought about girls sexually since nursery school. It never occurred to me for a moment that there was anything to consider about my attraction, or that it had anything to do with my identity.
Growing up, homosexuality was not something one admitted to, so I didn’t encounter openly gay people (with a few isolated exceptions) until college. And only then did I put much effort into trying to figure out why some people are attracted to people of their own sex.
Perhaps I am unusual. But I don’t think of myself as ‘straight’, but as a thinker, a writer, a political junkie, a joker…and I am sometimes surprised at how people identify themselves as ‘gay’, as if their sexual preference was the most important and interesting thing about themselves.
In other words, my sexual identity is something I spend very little time thinking about, and I spend very little time thinking about other people’s sexual identity.
Of course, this is one of the luxuries of being in the majority, as a straight, white man. I rarely encounter life events that force me to account for myself, or obstacles in my path that make me aware of aspects of my identity that are out of the majority.
Perhaps the best I can do, is that I have faced prejudice and resentment for being a Yankee (when in the south), and for being from an Ivy League town (when in the Midwest).
Feel free to explain what it is that I’m missing here.
there’s talk in some theoretical approaches about “unmarked categories”–white, male, heterosexual, etc. They’re the taken for granted categories. I feel the same way about being male. I just don’t think about it that often. For instance, when I hear some tranfolk say “I always felt like a male” I really don’t know what they’re talking about. I can’t always get my head around what it means to “feel like a man” (and masculinity confuses the shit out of me).
I understand what you’re saying. In the same ways that my whiteness or maleness don’t figure largely into my identity, straightness isn’t a big part of yours. Makes perfect sense to me.
I also think that’s where a major disconnect in straight and queer sensibility comes from. I don’t feel that same taken-for-granted sense around my sexuality that I do around my gender or (to an even larger degree) my race.
that’s how I see it, too.
Conceptually, I understand that if you are black, or a Muslim, or gay, that you are constantly reminded of those facts, which then leads one to consider those facts as central to your identity.
Then minority groups then to band together for mutual support, or because their life experiences are similar, etc…
And part of that process involves emphasizing and even celebrating the ‘otherness’.
Thus you have black pride, gay pride, the puerto-rican parade…
But if white straight men have a parade emphasizing their whiteness and straightness, it’s just considered obnoxious.
Perhaps for this reason, a lot of straight white men are put-off by gay pride marches, or other ethnic or racial displays of pride. It’s not permissable for us to express ourselves that way, so many of us think there is something intrinsically wrong with it.
I don’t think there is anything wrong with it, but I do experience such displays as somewhat foreign.
And there is a kind of permanent tension between groups that feel discriminated against by straight whites celebrating their ‘otherness’. In some deep sense, those two things operate at cross-purposes.
I’m also white, and that’s not a big part of my identity per se, but I do think about it as a social category in the same ways I think about being queer. By which I mean, I am occasionally acutely aware of my being marked with a racial identity that’s privileged in my culture.
Some of that probably originates from a general interest in this sort of thing from a theoretical perspective, but no doubt that some of it also comes from growing up a place as multicultural & multiethnic as South Florida. I was often in places where I was a racial minority, or the only white person, or English-speaking person, present.
I grew up in South Florida too, and agree with you. It really brings home exactly who you are labeled as when you find yourself in the minority, and makes it a conscious thing.
Just like being poor, I vividly remember the first time I realized I was poor as a child. It changes your whole world view. I imagine that is what happens when a person finds themselves in the minority in any way. Sometimes it can be a relief to catch on to it, because others may have been treating you differently and you did not know why.
I am straight and rarely think about it except when confronted with a reason to think about it like filling out forms and so on.
It is funny how you can be attracted to someone without thinking about orientation. And I agree that it is a “type” that is attractive, not a particular sex per se. There are lots of guys that are not attractive to me at all, and women that I would say are attractive, but not in a sexual way.
So, going by that, it seems that the labels are not telling the actual story. There are those that have a narrow group they are attracted to, with specific characteristics, and those that are attracted to a wide range of people without so many specific characteristics. Gender is only one of many possible things to be attracted to. I personally have found people that wear glasses something that is consistently attractive (go figure, from childhood experiences I’m sure, and it took me years to see) and that has nothing to do with gender.
This is a great conversation, thanks for starting it.
I’ve long suspected that I didn’t have much of a physical ‘type’ preference and recently confirmed that. I’ve been doing a picture project around my house, going through all my old photos, organizing, scanning, and making prints for framing. So I’ve run across all these pictures of old lovers and people I had crushes on over the years. With the exception of finding more women attractive than men, I have no other physical type preference. Upon further reflection on a personality level, I realized that mostly what I’m attracted to is a triad of certain traits: intelligence, kindness, and playful/humorous natures. The rest is just window dressing.
Where in South Florida do you hail from? I grew up in Miami Springs, kinda sandwiched in between Hialeah and the Miami International Airport. My school system in Springs at the time was predominantly white during elementary school, and predominantly Hispanic and black during junior and senior high. I also bussed to a couple different gifted programs outside Springs (one for academics and another for music) which were hosted by schools where the demographic was predominantly black.
I’ve been living in Northern Arizona for the past 10 years, and while it’s not the whitest place I’ve ever been (that’d be Alaska), it’s white enough to give me constant low-level anxiety. By which I mean, my childhood experiences in Miami sort-of programmed me to expect to look around and see a variety of races and ethnicities, and if I don’t see that, my subconscious starts to fear I may have stumbled into a KKK meeting or something.
interesting comments re: too high a concentration of white folks. This kid who grew up in Iowa and Minnesota felt the same way when visiting Muncie, Indiana for a job interview (Iowa State, and particularly Res Life–where I was working–was far more diverse than the rest of the state). It’s an odd think to be white and thinking, “there are too many white people here.”
You’re the first midwesterner I’ve run across who gets the whole ‘too white’ thing. It really does freak me out. Too many white folk in one place sets off a mental alarm: “Danger, IndyLib Robinson, danger! Racial homogeneity approaching!” Hee.
I remember moving into an apartment in Minneapolis. My folks were helping me, and (aside from not recognizing the heavy marijuana smells in the hallway) my mother asked me “Are there any white people in this building?” I rather like that there weren’t very many…and the Vietnamese restaurant across the street and the North African-run convenience store next door, and …. There just seems to be an energy when there’s lots of people mixing together that you don’t get when everybody looks the same….i love that energy.
I’m really glad to hear about other people who get a bit ‘freaked’ out by being around to many white people. I thought maybe there was something a bit wrong with me-being around all white people to me is a bit oppressive. Since I’m white, I know about white people and would much rather be around people of different cultures, different color than me..which is why my apartment has prints of either black, Latino’s, Native American, statues of oriental people, a hindu goddess, etc…this makes me comfortable.(and nothing says whitebread more than those godawful ‘precious moments’ little statues)
I was around Fort Lauderdale, but lived in West Palm Beach, Hollywood, Dania and in between. Elementary was pretty much white. After that it was a mixture, but still predominantly white, except in South Broward High School.
Where I live now in Arkansas it is mostly a white and Native American mixture.
I used to work for a law firm in Hollywood and hang out at a lesbian bar in Dania. Small world. π
I’ve always had regular access to the rich and despite my finances heading strongly south, I lucked into a rental in a vacation-home neighbhorhood where I meet people who are significantly richer than I ever expected I could become even as a technology worker.
The answer to “what’s it like to be heterosexual” is the same as the answer to “what’s it like to be” rich or white or any combination of things that put you into the majority and power.
Quite a few commenters have said it: it doesn’t feel like anything. It feels normal. The rich I’ve encountered all my life are aware of their success but they consider it logical and normal. In my experience that’s an important part of why there’s such a lack of compassion when political issues are raised that affect everyone else.
There’s only something to feel “like” when you’re different but kept in constant contrast to everyone else. If I’m on the street in my family kilt, it feels “like” something, because it is something, and people ask me what it’s “like.” Nobody ever in my 50+ years ever asked me what it’s “like” wearing pants.
I know just a little about one part of what it’s “like” to be gay because all my life some people have believed me gay. I’ve had overt advances and interest from gay men, and was occasionally taunted and physically hazed during childhood and adolescence. This neither made men seem sympathetically attractive to me, nor motivated me to pick on them to fit in with my “kind” better.
I don’t know what it’s “like” to be heterosexual, only what it’s like to be sexual. I react primarily to geometry, odor, posturing and of course enthusiasm. Yes I said odor. Men don’t trigger sexual responses for me; neither do little girls or boys.
I understand there’s a vast spectrum of levels and directions of sexual interest among people, and that a great many who are naturally flexible must be influenced by societal norms. For me, I didn’t learn my sexuality from society. After all, I didn’t learn so many other lessons that impact life as much or more than sexuality, such as how to like popular music and dancing, how to date, how to be the major breadwinner in the family, or how to vote Republican.
It’s funny to hear people describe being straight as “feeling normal”–not that I’d expect that it wouldn’t, I mean, I’m queer and that “feels normal” to me. What feels so weird to me is that so many other people don’t perceive my sexual identity as normal in the same way that people perceive something like red hair to be “normal”. Redheads are a statistically small percentage of the population–much smaller than queers–but they’re nonetheless perceived as “normal” in the sense that there’s not this enormous stigma and fighting for rights and blah blah blah about it. People even pay good money to dye their hair red. So for me, it’s not being queer that feels weird, it’s the fact that I am routinely reminded that the entire fucking society is organized around not being queer that’s so incredibly bizarre.
I never had any moments that I can recall of being aware of being hetero until the gay and lesbian movement began in this country. Before that, it is clear to me now, I took it for granted in the way I took my eye color for granted. (Unlike skin color–I was often acutely aware of being white.) After gays and lesbians began to come out in great numbers I had several moments that felt quite jarring. . .
There was, for instance, the first time I looked at an attractive man, felt attracted to him, began to wonder if he could be attracted to me. . .and was brought up with a jolt by the realization that he might be gay. It was confusing. I didn’t know how to act, whether to flirt. I felt hetero and unmoored.
There was also the first time I looked at young girls with the usual admiration and affection I feel for them. . .and was brought up with a jolt by the realization that young girls today might think I was a dirty old woman! Again, I felt unmoored.
I’m not sure if any of this answers any of your questions, but it’s what occurred to me.
I think you make a nice point…many many folks didn’t identify as “straight” until queer identities become more public.
One of the interesting things about this, in my head, is that since all of these categories and labels are relational (“gay” can’t exist without “straight,” just as “black” can’t exist without “white”), there’s always an aspect of saying “I’m not __” in making an identity claim.
Your story about the “dirty old woman” is also interesting. Notice how certain feelings you had (admiration and affection) can be sexualized (even if they weren’t in your head) and potentially toss you into another category (“dirty old woman”, “sexual predator”…to take it to an extreme), one you definitely don’t want to be associated with.
One of the things Foucault notes is that our society has become more sexualized through the course of modernity. We’ve talked more about it–in an effort to “manage” it–and it’s come to be seen as central to more and more parts of life:
We demand that sex speak the truth…and we demand that it tell us our truth. (p. 69)
The more we looked for sex at the root of things, the more we found it.
Being straight isn’t something I give much thought to, it’s like being a woman, it’s just how I’m made. It’s certainly much easier, particularly since the women’s movement – before that the only acceptible sexuality for a woman was marriage and babies. I did go through years of procreation pressure, “there’s something wrong with you” implied. But not the intolerance, or the hate couched as religion. I can’t imagine that.
What I would like to know is what relationships are like without societal gender roles. Even the most progressive people I know harbor a corner of defined male/female relationship roles.
Finally something I can comment on with some experience to back it up. In the old days. . .and you all know I am older than dirt. . .there was a rather persistent mythology that at least lesbians (the ones I knew and the area I lived in) were somehow expected to replicate some male/female divisions of the household. Some did that. Most, like me thought it was ridiculous. I wasn’t a man. I didn’t want to be a man. I certainly didn’t want to be with a woman trying to act like a man. It was a very strong myth.
However, most of us straight, gay or otherwise, never got any relationship training other than watching the roles our parents and other adults in our acquaintance modeled for us. So what did seem a bit difficult and a bit like a ship without an anchor to many of us was, “What the heck are the rules?” Can I just ask out any gay woman that I want to? Do I have to wait for her to ask me out? What will she expect from me? What do I expect from her? Just all those matters of social correctness or wondering how it all works as a potential relationship. A tad confusing, but certainly not insurmountable. And I realize how weird some of this sounds but it was the late 50’s up to the mid 60’s before we figured out women in general didn’t have to sit around and wait for someone to show interest in them.
By the late 70’s women in general were a lot smarter about all of the social correctness stuff, and younger lesbians seemed to dump the old ways with ease and never looked back (broad brush, but you understand I mean many, not all).
In every relationship whether dating, marriage, living together, working together, friends, et al. . .there are more passive roles and more assertive roles. The deal is, that these attributes really aren’t tied to gender or sexuality at all. More likely never were except by expectations of the societal consciousness. I have known plenty of passive straight men and even more assertive straight women. And No one is usually one way all of the time. At least I’ve never met anyone who is. So we actually slide into our roles as situational rather than prescribed.
So maybe if you imagine being with the person you love and being equal in all ways (meaning no gender specific implied inequalities) and feeling especially lucky and fortunate to have a partner that really understands where you are coming from (even the so-called women things)and sharing your lives, your goals, your dreams, your love, your heart, the all of you together, then perhaps you will see that it seems a natural alliance. It can be much easier than male/female relationships. . .there is a lot less explaining and understanding where the other is coming from.
Don’t read any absolutes into my offering. Just my experience of 45 years as a participating lesbian and plenty of experiences, first hand and anecdotal.
My opinions, my experiences. . .others mileage may vary.
For whatever reason, when I was growing up I REALLY took the notion of sexual harassment seriously. So seriously that I thought any display of interest in members of the opposite sex beyond the purely professional and friendly was potentially harassment. As a result, I have always been exceptionally careful in my dealings with members of the opposite sex – careful to make sure that nothing I said or did could possibly, in any way shape or form, be construed as anything other than polite. I did not want to contribute to the oppression of women. In that way, I have always been acutely aware of my heterosexuality, any time I interact with anyone I have found even remotely attractive.
Of course, having read much of the academic literature myself, I know that simply censoring my acts and deeds can never render me non-complicit in the oppression of women. According to many, it is discursively impossible for me to truly extract myself from such oppression, much in the same way that as a white American it is impossible for me to extract myself from racism, class oppression, and the global destruction wreaked by the American-run world market.
Eh, whatever. I suppose that may be a problem with reading this stuff at too young an age (I started college when I was 12) – if you start taking academic critiques to heart, you end up burdened by an utterly immense levels of guilt, and are rendered rather dysfunctional.
Zwackus – I was really intrigued by your comment, and <hanging head in embarrassment> clicked on your name to be nosy. Um, …welcome to BooMan and thanks for adding such an interesting and thought-provoking post. I hope you find yourself comfortable enough around here to continue contributing your voice and what I suspect is a rather unique perspective.
College at 12… I’d love to read some of those stories.
I agree that integrating the critiques too deeply can lead to guilt, to a sense of never ending complicity in a wholly oppressive system. It can also lead to paralyis; the problems are so big, so deeply embedded, that it seems there’s almost nothing I can do.
I prefer to think of critique as offering a map. Something I picked up from Adorno:
My copy of the book is at a friend’s place, but he also talks about reification as forgetting, and criticism as remembering.
I think he opens up a space for action and hope with that.
I teach human development, and I have asked my students exactly the same question that you are asking us here. They struggle with it, especially those who think that being gay implies a conscious “I was heterosexual and then at this specific point I made a decision to be homosexual”. Some group almost always comes up with the overused but somewhat illustrative metaphor: is the goldfish aware of the water until it gets plucked out of it? Heterosexuals are living in the water, they think that’s where everyone else is, too. Why are they always asking us when we became aware?
More questions are raised, as I have many students who believe that sexual preference is a simple matter of choice. If we expect that one group’s experience is such that they can change, and become like the larger group, doesn’t that imply that those of us in the larger group can do the same thing?
Another point that students find particularly disturbing is when I note that for the vast majority of American children, before puberty, we operate in mostly homophilic groups. Our best friends and associates are the same sex as us. Cross-sex friendships do exist, of course, but they tend to be private, not highly obvious to other children. Yet somehow, when the hormones kick in, sexual desire is expected to transfer to the opposite sex automatically, without comment, without struggle, without difficulty. Friendships with the same sex are expected to continue, but not be touched with sexual desire.
As you and others have noted, virtually no one in my classes has mentioned about being aware of their sexual preference at the point of experiencing physical desire, it just seems to happen. In contrast, however, more than a few students report having worried about their sexual preference when they’ve seen other person’s desires in action. This was most commonly reported as an adolescent thing – and more common for males than females. “I worried that they had found out I was gay for someone to approach me like that”, one man said, describing an incident that happened when he was 14. Actually, he was the victim of hazing by senior members of his athletic team. They did not think he was gay, they just wanted to pick on him as the smallest member of the team.
In a different vein, I love your sense of humor here and in other diaries. I never made it through much of Foucault and that stabbing in the forehead feeling is such a great description. . .
Working my way through Foucault’s analysis of an ancient Dream Analysis for Dummies, certainly made me want to stab myself in the forehead…I enjoy Volume 1, but Volumes 2 and 3, while interesting overall, don’t really fit with some of the work I’m trying to do, so I couldn’t ever figure out how deeply to read the texts. The forehead may have some holes in it by the end of the summer…Butler and Lacquer are coming up soon as well.
That is not a question I could ever answer. But I have found it interesting that you have asked it, Jeff.
At times in our society, at least back in the dark ages when I was growing up it was a question or a form of a question often asked of gays. . .”What’s it like to be gay?” I think really the best answer to that is “What’s it like to be straight?”
The really more popular form of the question at that time was, “When did you first know that you were gay?” It could be answered with “When did you first know that you were straight?” What’s the difference?
People that have never thought about it. . .ie, I’ve just always known, it is just who I am. . . might be able to see that for the most part it is the same for gays.
In 45 years, I have never felt that my sexuality was any more important than my having brown eyes, or loving to read, or any number of other things. It is one part of me that has no more particular importance than all of the other parts of me.
Having to deal with the negative aspects and treatments by others who can’t seem to understand this has been the challenge.
Yeah…my sexuality is there, it’s part of me, and really no bigger deal than it is for anyone. But it is always a bigger deal. Like I mentioned in another comment, I’m aware of it in circumstances where I find someone attractive but also have concerns about my physical safety. I’m aware of its relationship to gender when I try to “butch up” a little in certain places (or at least flame a little less), or countless other times. That may be the biggest difference…we have to think about it, often for our own safety.
You are right, Jeff. And it is something that gay men need to be concerned about far more than lesbians, although we have had our share of being beaten up by the queer haters. . .but it happens far more often to gay men.
So, it is a necessary means of survivial to understand that being purple on a chartruse planet can mean physical danger, even death. Naturally it is there in a prominent place in our thoughts.
Great diary, Jeff, and the comments/discussion have been amazing.
What’s it like to be straight? Well, I’ve given this some thought. One of the things I honestly debated was, after my divorce, whether I should “become” a lesbian. What I mean was I wanted to figure out if maybe I was really a lesbian after all, and I had just been involved with men because of social conditioning. I had long discussions with my lesbian friends about this. I tried to imagine being with a woman. And, what has become clear to me is that on the Kinsey scale of homosexuality/heterosexuality, I’m apparently right at the extreme end of “hopeless heterosexuality.” I am conscious that my heterosexuality is very much a part of who I am. It causes me to act certain ways in certain situations. For example, if I’m going out on a date for the first time, one of the first things I’m going to figure out is whether I have any interest in being sexual with the man in question. That’s a decision that seems to get made almost instantaneously, reacting to smells, body parts, etc. I won’t act on that immediately, of course, but some click in the back of my brain will then direct how I’m going to act on that date. I can be intellectual, but if I’m interested in sleeping with this person, my body language will be entirely different than if I’m not interested. Same conversation, whole different vibe. Am I performing my sexuality at those moments? Maybe. I’ve just become so conscious of this in the past few months. Honestly, before, I never recognized this behaviour. It’s not like I crawl up onto the table and shove my breasts into the guy’s face; it’s more subtle. But it’s definitely a change in body signals.
I’m also aware, as a woman, about the acting of my gender. I have, for most of my life, had very short hair. As a child, I was frequently mistaken for a boy, and for some reason, this was incredibly wounding to me. To have my femininity questioned. It doesn’t happen now, but part of me still carries around with me the notion that I may not be feminine enough. Very strange. And it doesn’t seem to matter how feminine I am, how feminist I am, I’m aware of those moments at which my gender was questioned and the impact that had on me.
Just some random thoughts about performativity.
Hey MAJeff, this is a great post!
I have a hard time answering theoritically because I haven’t made it to Foucault yet but he is on my reading list. Maybe when I am ABD I can give you a clearer answer if not an argument (in the academic sense π ).
Empirically, though, my own experience is this: while I have many kinks and enjoy the BDSM community (I’m not family, just a distant cousin) I have experimented with homosexual sex years ago with a very good friend of mine. What I can say is that it was fun and enjoyable, but not something that I seek out. Exploring myself and my sexuality throughout the years, I’ve found that I enjoy a very large selection of kinks, most of them in fact. The experimentation really said to me that this was just another kink – for me. I don’t want to be flamed for that (no pun intended) as people who are sexually oriented to the same sex would have a problem with that. I’m speaking only for myself.
The good thing, I believe, is that once I erased the line and viewed it as just another kink, those of you who are gay were no longer the “Other”. I’ve had no fear or anxiety about it since. Hey! It was fun, I can admit that and I have fond memories from the encounter as well as Roger!
I would not even say that I am “tolerant” because tolerant implies that you tolerate something that isn’t comfortable to you. No, I see as just normal. I can’t answer that question of what it is like to be straight because I feel that my sexuality encompasses everything as a human being. So for me, if there is an emotional bond and sexual attraction, I doesn’t matter what is between the legs. And no, I am not “Bi” either, that is just another construct.
I am attracted more to the opposite sex, but the great thing about enjoying a plethora of kinks is that it is like a smorgesboard that you can pick and choose from according to mood and preferences of the partner. The only thing I am repulsed by is animals and kids but anything else I consider within the realm of human sexuality, including the catagories of gay and straight.
I think that if more people experienced that, then we wouldn’t have the malaise of homophobia. I know I don’t and I feel that I am a better person for it.
My two cents…but I will get back to you once I read Foucault and I am ABD.
Has a great song called “Stay Human” (on the disc by the same name. Here’s his Website. A line that runs through the song:
Now why on earth would a gay person have trouble with it being a kink. For me to end up with a woman would be much the same (and a hell of a surprise)
I don’t know if you’re familiar with Pat(rick) Califia’s work, but s/he has done some amazing stuff with this. She once got in trouble for writing that she’d rather be stranded on a desert island with a masochist leather fag than a vanilla dyke (this in the days when she was identifying as a lesbian…and a woman). Didn’t sit well with lots of folks. But it made perfect sense to me; because genital pleasure is somewhat decentered in BDSM play, the specific gender of the participant can (not that it always does) become less important to the act itself….at least that’s how I understand it…correct me if I’m wrong.
I can’t remember if it was Foucault or Judith Butler from UC Berkeley who said that “queer” didn’t mean necessarily “gay”, just different from the “norm” in terms of sexuality. In that definition I’m queer too and you don’t have a copyright on the term! π
I’ve run into the what I believe is the problem of “gay” people identifying too much with being “gay” and not what I call being “human”. So when I suggest that it is a kink, they get offended as it affronts their sexuality and “orientation”. I don’t mean it as something trivial but I preach against “orientation” as such, not that I don’t believe it exist, I just believe that it is another category which separates us ( the “/” is important to us who study semiotics!).
So I imagine for you to end up with a fling with a woman would require a deep emotional bond of friendship and not going out searching for what’s between the legs…which is two human beings being intimate with one another manifested physically. It’s the same with me but in the opposite way. Not that it wouldn’t be an enjoyable experience to delve into the “dark side” again but it isn’t something I/we seek out as stated before.
I am definately familiar with Califa, I like him/her and more familiar with essays than published works (books). Yea, Califa is controversial in both communities but I feel that he/she speaks the truth.
You’re right about the genitalia being secondary to BDSM play, it’s more about sensation and how to administer it, regardless of physical traits… it about how to manipulate body sensation, what the body offers and not only penis or vagina, for the greatest response, and if you are good, your bottom will be “flying” in a state of euphoria regardless of his or her sex. That only confirms to me the idea about gender being a social construct and not nature.
So, yea, in the above definition, I not only consider myself queer but human as well. To whore myself, I just put up a bio on Diane’s welcome wagon post, if you are interested in a little bit more about me for the sake of discourse.
Happy 4th in Boston!
I’m totally down with that def’n of queer and having you as a member of the freaky family π
Butler’s use (gender/sexual nonconformity) is also how I tend use the term, and honestly I think I identify more strongly as queer than as gay (but it requires more explanation, so I use gay more frequently).
This also reminds me of a conference I was just at where someone presented a paper on heterosexual cross-dressers. The paper’s author discussed how this was a group that should fit under the queer umbrella, but because of the divide in sexual orientation (queer supposedly being gay instead of non-normative) there was almost no cultural or political overlap, despite similar experiences of living at (or beyond) the boundaries of gender/sexual normality.
if you ever want a European vacation, you have a place to stay. Just let me know when and I have a spare room for guests. Don’t be fooled with the late nights, Spanish wine, and politico speech…you’ll have a great time, I guarantee it!
the next trick would be finding a nearby conference to get school to pay for airfare π
I will let you know if there is anything in you field going on, that the trick isn’t it? Once your here though, it’s only 20 bucks to fly to Paris or Helsinki.
GET THAT FULBRIGHT!
then i have to learn another language…i would like to spend some time studying in Amsterdam at some point–for a couple of different projects–so I should learn Dutch anyway…there’s a language I have a terrible time getting my mouth around.
Dutch is closer to English than you expect, also most of them speak English anyway.
Amsterdam is only 3 hours from me by train. I spent a weekend there with a visiting Shakesperean professor who thought “birthday boy is cute!”….well, what can I say! I’m a sucker! She also thought that I would be a good “Iago”. So I hope that doesn’t scare you off!
I can show you Amsterdam, maybe we could even hook up with Platoniun Page as I understand she lives there now.
I was there a year and a half ago and fell in love with the city…head over heels…Dutch feels like it’s half way between German and English with a Norwegian accent. “ui” as “ow” and “g” as a hard “h” totally fucked with me…it felt like the year of college German I had got in the way.
Again, Foucault’s History, v. 1
(remembering the def’n of sexuality from the main post–the definition, regulation, and management of things defined as sexual.)
Hey Jeffersonian Democrat, I think the word you’re looking for might be ‘pansexual’. I use it on occasion, when I don’t mind explaining it to people, and if more people used it then there’d probably be less need for explanation. π
You mentioned the word tolerant and how you don’t like that…I’ve been bitching about this word for years as applied by so called progressives who say they are ‘tolerant’ of gays…wtf as you said that implies your tolerating someone other than you…that to me is actually rather demeaning and insulting. I don’t ‘tolerate’ my friends, to me they are perfectly normal-being gay to me is as ‘normal’ as not being gay…then again what exactly does normal mean? Say it long enough and the word ‘normal’ becomes ridiculous.
I don’t know how comfortable I am in discussing this, but I don’t know that I am straight. I also don’t think I’m gay. At 51, I’ve never been married and only had a few boyfriends. I always was attracted to men, but after my last relationship 10 years ago – I don’t find myself attracted to much of anyone. I’m just pretty happy being alone (in terms of a relationship – I do enjoy a lot of friendships with both genders). There have been times I’ve wondered if I was gay, but I don’t feel atraction to women. I do, however, feel more comfortable around women, but a lot of my women friends do, regardless of thier oreintation. I suppose all of this means that I need therapy, but I’m pretty happy with my life and haven’t felt too much of a need to do that. I just keep tellilng myself that I’ll figure all of this out in my next life. Having battled out of a crippling right wing fundamentalist family – I think I’ll take a rest and just enjoy life.
What I see is that we seem to want so much to label and categorize various issues and then define “normal” that a lot of people wind up feeling left out. I have a female friend who has been in a relationship with another woman for over 20 years after they were both married for years with several children. They met and immediately fell in love, even though they had never been attracted to another woman before. It took them years before they were comfortable identifying themselves as lesbian. All they knew was that they loved each other.
Our culture asks us all the time to label and categorize our behavior and so many of us just don’t fit anywhere.
I know a couple of women in a similar situation to your friends’ (but without the kids). While one of them was going through her divorce (the other had divorced years earlier), they started a relationship (they’ve been living together for ten years now, and have been together at least a few beyond that). Early in the relationship I asked them, “So, what are you guys? Are you, like, straight women involved with each other or lesbian or bisexual?” They said, “We have no idea.” Their own lives were fucking with the existing social categories and expectations (now they identify as lesbian).
That leads to, I think, one of the main lessons from Queer Theory: all of the categories are social constructs that not only enable people but also constrain them. Figuring out where we fit, or not fitting, into these categories can really fuck with ya.
Thanks for this. I just keep imagining a utopia where all that matters is that we can fall in love (whatever that means) and have wonderful sex as a way of expressing that – no matter who or what gender. And no one has to worry about what label to put on it.
By the way, one of the most profound moments of my healing from my fundamentalist christian upbringing was when I realized, at a very deep level, that most of what I had been taught about what it meant to be a woman was really a way of controlling who, where and when I had sex. I really embraced that I could have sex when, where and with whom I wanted – and that was a moment of true healing for me. It told me just how foundational this issue of sexuality can be.
If you’re happy what else matters and it certainly doesn’t sound like you need therapy to me. Not many have answers when it comes to dealings of the heart and/or sexual attraction but you seem to be doing a pretty good job of thinking things through and as I said as long as you’re happy with your life right now whose to say that’s not right?
I keep starting to post and then not doing it because although I have a story to tell, I haven’t been able to decided what to say about it. But with so many smart folks available, I decided to tell the story and let someone else parse it.
I first became aware of the fact of my heterosexual status when I was junior in high school in the late sixties. My friends were a group of ‘freaks’ who spent our time smoking some grass, drinking ripple wine, and doing a whole lot of talking. Two guys in the group were homosexuals who weren’t, of course, out and in fact, I don’t think their sexuality was ever really even acknowledged. What was acknowledged was their need for cover. During the next two years, every girl in the group spent some time as the public girlfriend of one of these two. This didn’t mean dating, it meant letting your name be attached to theirs, walking with them in the halls of the school, talking about them with other girls, and so on.
I think what “soaked” in from this experience was a sense of both the injustice and inanity of it. I’m sure it helped feed my ever increasing certainty that I didn’t like the way the world worked and that I didn’t have any desire to fit in with world that worked like this one.