Raw, idiom, 14b: Informal. in the nude; naked: sunbathing in the raw.

Sex on the brain.

And not just because I'm still buzzing from MJP's fiery and fabulous burlesque show at the Elbo Room last night, which reminded me quite welcomely how much better life is when sequins and tassels are involved. Or because this pic of old-school Liza makes me want to chuck everything and devote my life to being a slinkily-Cabaret-ing fishnet-clad Fosse ninja. Or because that long-awaited copy of "The Happy Hooker" finally hit my doorstep today.

But also because, well, this repressed sexuality crap has been so very much in the news lately (and why are we surprised again when the homophobic faux-Christian state senator with the horrid anti-LGBT voting record turns out - naturally - to be secretly closeted, as evidenced by his unfortunate inebriated drive home from a Sacramento gay bar??). And because Morford's on fire again with another sexuality rant and I love him anew for saying all the things out loud in a mainstream rag (well, online in a mainstream rag) that so many others are afraid to say.

Granted, my man Mark gets a little caught up in his run-on sentences (dreaminess aside) and his "sticky" adjectives and his gushing imagery, but give him a break, now: where else do you see this kind of real-honest-authentic-grounded dialogue about what "having sex" means? Any queer theorist worth his salt would remind you that progressive intellectuals like Butler and Dworkin and Foucault were having a heyday with this question for years on years before this most recent Kinsey survey came out, their conclusion always being that there's no one way to define "having sex," that it's foolish and boring and blase and heterosexist and phallocentric and vanilla to define it one way or the other, that maybe it's the moment or the eyes or the breath or as Morford writes [loving the yoga shout-out], the "10-minute headstand at the end of a sweaty yoga class." Amen.

And that's really what queer theory and theologies (and, by extension, embodiment theory and body theologies, too) are all about: the awareness that sexuality, eros, desire of one sort or another permeate all we do, all we say, all we see, all we breathe, all we are (and, as some like Carter Heyward would argue, inhabit the "spaces between" wherein the lush sacred divine actually unfolds in relationality), and that to foolishly try to wrap all that up in some pathetic cold-blooded saran-wrapped package as defined by some cross-section of [bless their hearts] repressed Middle Americans, well, just doesn't cut it.

Read Morford's latest; breathe through his long sentences and smile at their subversive fuck-you grammar, and see the populist wisdom therein, making so much of this heady esoteric theory on the fluid nature of sexuality visible and understandable and accessible to the general reading public; take a fresh look at your own life and your own labels and promise you'll chuck these ancient generic definitions of sexuality out the window. You'll be so very glad you did.

Ashburn: I am gay (SFGate)
You call that having sex? (SFGate)


Rev Scott said…
I just have to say it: "'fluid' nature of sexuality?"

I know, I know - that wasn't the point. But that was the point where I giggled.
Rach said…
Ha, Scott - love it! You got me. That's what I get for writing at 2 am on a fading vodka buzz. :)

Thanks for reading. There's so much great work being done out there in body theologies these days, eh? I can only imagine where you could go with all of it in terms of campus ministry.

(And, for the record, I fully support all dirty-minded giggling.)

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