Dating from the Margins: Desexualizing and Cultural Abuse

This is the first in an informal series on dating as a marginalized queer identity. The focus will inevitably be shaped by my personal experience – being white, a trans woman, fat, poor, polyamorous, and a survivor of sexual violence and abuse – but I hope it will resonate to some degree with whose experiences aren’t similar to mine but who nonetheless feel marginalized by their communities. These posts arose from conversations with a number of people on various points of the continuum of queer cultural desire, and I am deeply grateful for those folks. They give me hope these conversations can happen more often, and on a much larger scale.

I am often frustrated by people who are otherwise invested in understanding and opposing systems of oppression, but who nonetheless exclude dating and desirability from analysis or self-critique. This is especially frustrating when they are privileged by those very systems. This lack of analysis by those who have access and who are prioritized as desirable by their communities effectively silences the experiences of those whose trans status (or having a disability, or not meeting cultural beauty standards, or any of the markers of undesirability imposed by external systems) limits or completely denies access. In many queer, sex positive, polyamorous activist communities I have experienced those with access treating their privilege as the status quo, something which is never discussed, is neutral from criticism, and to which all are assumed to have access. This is done with an often startling ignorance of those who do not.

Understandably, who we are attracted to is a very sensitive topic for most of us. We want to believe our desires are our own, unshaped by the media, patriarchy, racism, ableism, transmisogyny, or other oppressive systems. This is even more challenging when one’s identity is based in ideas of activism, social justice and equality; We don’t want to feel like we’re upholding oppressive standards, or engaging in systems which sometimes violently desexualize marginalized identities.

Conversely, those who do not enjoy much dating capital face an incredibly challenging and vulnerable process when discussing desirability. You can’t help but wonder how much will be dismissed as sour grapes, or what judgements will be made about you to justify your undesirability in the minds of others. This furthers the silencing, and prevents the discussions which can begin to address these inequalities.

And the inequalities are considerable: The systemic desexualisation of any group of people is abuse at the cultural level. Though the idea of being privileged by a culture which abuses the sexuality of others is sure to provoke knee-jerk defensiveness, much like white people who respond to the idea of being privileged by living in a racist culture by saying “But I’m not a racist,” this isn’t about individuals. Refusing to engage with the systems which privilege us because we’re uncomfortable with that sort of self-reflection, however, allows those systems to continue, and makes us complicit in their existence. The effects of desexualization are nonetheless real, and cause much emotional damage for many people.

This isn’t to say we can simply reprogram our desires for the sake of a more egalitarian community, but waving the discussion away with “I can’t help who I’m attracted to!” isn’t the answer either. What we do need is discussion and acknowledgement, not as a defence of our desires, but to perhaps understand how external forces narrow their scope. Acknowledging the prioritizing of certain bodies and identities is just the beginning, and will lead to many difficult conversations I’m sure, but ultimately can only lead to more understanding, more inclusiveness, and stronger communities.

Next: “She’s Kind of Insecure,” or the Catch-22 of Marginalization