Friday, September 16, 2011

THE GAY OCTOROON

In the Kern-Hammerstein musical Showboat, the onboard actress Julie LaVerne is found to be in an unlawfully miscegenous marriage by virtue of being an octoroon; or, as Wikipedia elaborates, “someone with family heritage of one biracial grandparent, in other words, one African great-grandparent and seven Caucasian great grandparents.” The separation from her husband results in a cascading tragedy, beginning with her removal as an onboard entertainer, and ending with her combing gambling halls and dives, struggling to find the men who can help her survive.
This racial trope interests me as a bisexual woman. In my life, I’ve been torn apart emotionally and mentally in what was presented to me as a compulsory pigeon-holing in dualistic sexuality, i.e. the need to be one or the other, gay or straight. All gay people in the sandwich acronym we’ve acquiesced to: LGBT, struggle with the exclusion from heterosexuality and its privileges. There is a risible game, played differently at the different poles of socially acceptable sexual preference, with the common quest being to discover or identify who is homosexual. For straight folks, the result will be a shift in perception away from acceptability. For gay folks, the perception of homosexual preference constitutes an enhancement. But those of us whose lives have led us to some gray middle area expose ourself to a hazardous distortion of identity.
For me, bisexuality has always represented the autonomy to love audaciously. Moving away from a confining sojourn in the early ‘70s lesbian feminist [separatist] community, I became involved instead in the New Wave of cultural exploration of that time. In the 2008 release of The Universe of Keith Haring, Kenny Scharf reflects on how everyone from that time was either bi or gay. Yes, I remember it well. Bisexuality often fares well in the hothouse of intentional community. But the exposure all gay people experience in the ultimate necessity to endure and survive in a heterosexual world involves the navigation of what is often a harsh and unforgiving reality.
The workplace for one, unless one has a cache of fabulousness for an entre into the world of the arts or fashion, is largely a heterosexual environment. Perhaps real, perhaps pretended, but nonetheless one that needs to be ‘gone along with’. In our cemented, monolithic culture where marriage is the apex of an heirarchical pyramid of acceptability, those of us who make different choices fall to the bottom or perhaps through the cracks entirely. If we are enjoying the privilege that makes us acceptable hires, provides us with promotions and upward mobility, makes allowances for us to circulate socially and rear children, what would make us take the risk of a same sex relationship? Is there ever any room to move back and forth? The flamboyance of drag and the exagerated feminity of male gayness presents a face to the American public frivolous enough to have gained acceptance. But what about those of us who don’t want to put on a show?