A sex critical approach argues that all forms of sexuality should be critically evaluated in terms of the ideologies they uphold (Barker 908-909). It rejects the neoliberal choice rhetoric, and acknowledges the multiple power dynamics that choices are made within (Barker 905). This is often used as reasoning for critiquing heterosexuality and its dominant institutions, however it should also be used on the perspectives that attempt to identify themselves as “queer” and in opposition to these dominant norms. Some things may be non-normative (not complying with the heteronormative constructs) but not queer (actually challenging heteronormativity).
A critique of the BDSM community that brings into question its queering power is the ideologies of consent that it upholds—notably heteronormative ones. In the BDSM community at large, consent is still in the responsibility of the individuals (Barker 902). The existence of safe words acts as a veneer, so that dominants assume that anything is fine if a complaint is not presented (Barker 904). This puts the pressure of “saying no,” or revoking an assumed consent, on the submissive. It is ignored that there are a multitude of pressures on the submissives, like women on general, to comply to norms of behavior, which may result in them “consenting” to behaviors that they may not truly wish. Another heteronormative assumption promoted by the BDSM community is that “real dominants/men should automatically know what submissives/women need, and that ‘real’ submissives should be able to take anything without safewording” (Barker 905).
Many bloggers within the BDSM community have come out pointing to systemic issues of consent and abuse within the community (Barker 902). They call for a rejection the sex-liberal perspective, and an acknowledgment of the intersecting structures that influence personal choice in consent, and how the community pressures certain choices (Barker 905). They want a more open discussion, community oriented, discussion on consent—one that does not take consent as a given until revoked, but requires one at each action.
The larger community does not critically engage with these critiques, but instead tries to silence them (Barker 903). By not engaging with these critiques and questioning their own heteronormative ideals of consent, the BDSM movement falls short of challenging the heteronormative system. This is where the question arises: is the BDSM community truly “queer,” or just non-normative?
There is also a critique to be had of the popular media representations of lesbian and gay characters and families, and whether these are queering or not. Specifically we will look at the film The Kids are Alright. Suzanna Walters critiques the representation of lesbian families within this movie. While the movie is indicative of a greater visibility of queers in media, the images presented are non-gay’s surrounded by feel-good heterosexual acceptance (918). There is a tone of inclusion and normalization, partnered with the “erasure of feminist and queer critiques of gender normativity and the nuclear family” (Walters 919).
Specifically within The Kids are Alright, it is as if a homosexual couple is mapped onto an otherwise heteronormative nuclear family—just the sex of one of the parents is changed. There is a femme as well as a butch mother—the butch mother being the masculinized, workaholic, and alcoholic, while the femme is the stay-at-home, neglected mother.
Furthermore, there is a significant lack of romantic passion between the two women—they are portrayed solely as mothers, with an inability to succeed in a sexual moment (Walters 922). However the sperm donor, Paul, has no issue having a passionate connection with Jules “where they find themselves in a sweaty embrace after working together in the garden—signifying her ‘natural/real woman’ status and sensual fertility in contradistinction to the unnatural, mannish, sterile, Nic” (Walters 923). This points to a larger inability for our culture or media to imagine a lesbian passion that is not porn—centered on male pleasure (Walters 921). The lesbians in current media are almost always presented as sexually fluid, where they will always be slightly open to the possibility of sex with a man (Walters 927).
The importance of the man is further emphasized through the the interactions of Laser and Paul—all which suggest that the women failed in helping Laser with his relationships due to the fact that they are not men (Walters 923). The importance that the film puts on the male roles—instead of challenging the normative family structures that dictate a requirement for both genders—is summed by Walters:
Couldn’t we—for a moment—imagine that children of gay parents might indeed walk in a world of more gender play and fluidity, more gnder sophistication and (dare we say it) more righteous political anger? Might we imagine that they not only encounter homophobia along the way but also perhaps a different kind of kinship? Couldn’t we imagine, then, that the kids are not all right but are actually better off? Narratively, of course, while the queer family is reconciled at the end—it takes a male figure (and his overweening phallic presence) to bring them together: he is the catalyst that both disrupts this homo home and gets it back on some semblance of even keel. He is also the catalyst that prompts Laser to reject his bullying best friend and Joni to stand on her own two feet: it takes a man, therefore, to set a lesbian family straight (926).
This film was lauded as telling a “bigger,” “universal” story. This universality, unsurprisingly, is the heteronormative marriage and family construct; the depiction that the queer family is same as any heterosexual family, the “just like us” mentality.
While the gay identity of the characters is a motivation of the plot, any significant queer or feminist “politics of difference” is removed to please tolerant heterosexuals and homonormative viewers (Walters 926). This means a loss of critique of the heterosexual family formation, as well as a narrative of the impacts progressive queer and feminist difference can make in lives (Walters 926). The Kids are Alright can much more be accurately described as liberal politics at work, absent of any criticism that would make it radical politics or queer.
Queer Identity in the Anarchist Movement:
The final group, introduced by Portwood-Stacer (in Constructing Anarchist Sexuality: Queer Identity, Culture, and Politics in the Anarchist Movement), has a more complex issue involved in their debate on queer-ness. In her article she shows that many anarchists identify as queer, despite the fact that their sexual practices show differently (482-483). This is due to a desire to not identify with the dominant institutions, and a desire to critique them (Portwood-Stacer 480). This causes them to adopt the queer identity, however this brings into question whether their practices are actually queering or not? Some critiques have called this group “lifestylists”—people who are concerned with their own expressions of anarchism than with radical social change (Portwood-Stacer 485). It can be further critiqued how much of an individual contestation of the dominant structures this behavior is, as they do not actually engage in any queering behaviors beyond calling themselves queer. As they comply to heteronormativity through their behaviors—engaging in primarily heterosexual monogamous relations—they do not contest the system in a way that would be considered radical “queering.”
