In the past week I have been mistaken for a lesbian, and a man. I feel I'm doing pretty well. I'm thinking that perhaps tomorrow I could wrap myself up like a mummy and see if anyone mistakes me for a leper. Neither one of these mistakes offended me; there are far worse things people could believe of me. And, in actuality, being mistook for a lesbian doesn't bother me at all. The circumstances surrounding it, however, are a little more difficult to puzzle out.

In a game similar to truth or dare, but without the dare, I was asked the question "since you like hot girl on girl action, how do you think that will affect your PhD dissertation?" It threw me for a loop, not for the misnomer that I like girl on girl action, but for the assumption that such a proclivity would affect my dissertation. It seems that sort of an idea is indicative of what might be called passive bigotry. I know using a word such as bigotry is inflammatory, and I don't actually think the person who used it is in any real way a bigot, but I do think the belief that just because someone is gay it would automatically affect them in an academic arena qualifies. For instance, you would never ask a black person, or an asian person, since you are [fill in the minority] how will that affect your PhD dissertation. The very idea seems ludicrous. Unless that person is specifically studying literature from the field the one has nothing to do with the other. And even if I were gay and studying queer theory, it is still an assumption that I would approach the topic differently than a heterosexual studying queer theory.

I've been thinking about this for awhile. Once it was clarified that I was (am) straight, mortification abounded and I felt sorry for the questioner's unease. Especially because there seemed to be an undue amount of embarrassment brought on by the situation. And so I'm prompted to ask, is being thought gay really so insulting?

Perhaps for men it has a different connotation than it does for women, or, perhaps, for another woman it would be insulting. But I think what bothers me isn't that someone might think I was attracted to women instead of men, but the stereotypes that go with it. I'm speculating here, I have no idea what prompted this belief other than the "gaydar" went off, but to be thought a lesbian instead of a straight woman seems like it must have come from only a few things: I didn't seem obviously attracted to men, or I didn't seem particularly feminine.

What is it about "butch" attitudes that makes us immediately think of dikes? I understand the certain looks associated, but I don't have a shaved head, a mullet, or a proclivity towards wearing flannel. And even if I did, why would that point me out as a lesbian? Why is it we, as a culture, seem so infatuated with the idea of being able to fit everyone we meet into a particular mold? To some degree it makes sense; it orders the world around us and allows for some feeling of control and understanding. But in a very real way it limits us. It prevents us from seeing people as they actually are and promotes the characteristic of seeing people how we think they are. Or ought to be.

I've grappled with this topic for awhile. Along with typical masculine and feminine stereotypes I've witnessed the constant behavior of men dating girls that were a little bit weak or unable to take care of themselves. Guys who walk up to friends who are girls and say "hey I would like to date your obviously cute and obviously unstable friend." And girls who walk up to friends who are guys and say "I can't date him because he doesn't take care of me." What is it about weakness that is so appealing? Hell, what is it about being taken care of that is so appealing?

As a brilliant friend of mine once said, the beauty of not needing to be taken care of means you are free to take care of someone else when they need it. To me that seems like a more fulfilling relationship. I know I couldn't stand to date someone, guy or girl, who constantly needed me to put his/her life back together. I also know I couldn't date someone who was incapable of helping me put mine back together on occasion.

And so the point of all of this rambling is to say I don't care who thinks I'm gay. It's not an insult. But I do care that people make sweeping judgments about, not just my, but everyone's character based on a perceived sexual orientation. I care that people pigeonhole each other and assume that just because you're strong, you can't be hurt. I care that people, when discovering sexual orientation is different than they thought it was, have to strive to find a new pigeonhole in which to fit someone.

But more than any of that, more than any of that being done to me, I care that I do that to others. I care about that a lot.