PicoBlog

By T. Bloom

A biker babe once flashed her boobs at me from the back of a passing Harley when I was around 12 years old. It didn’t really make much of a lasting impression either way, and was nothing I hadn’t already seen in movies. Somehow, I managed to persist in my gayness.

That momentary glimpse of flesh has been on my mind over the past week, during the uproar that’s followed trans activist Rose Montoya’s brief baring at the Biden administration’s Pride celebration — which no one would even know about, if it hadn’t been for a tiny clip included in Montoya’s own TikTok recap of the event, in which she posed alongside a couple of trans men who were proudly showing off their bare chests.

In the right-wing firestorm that resulted, those men were cropped out of the frame as well as the conversation. As many have pointed out, the selective outrage has only seemed to affirm the genders of those involved: trans women are women, and thus their bodies and choices are subject to increased scrutiny; trans men are men, and thus can largely do/show as they please. Even though Montoya has been aggressively misgendered throughout this coverage, her “biological male” chest must still remain covered at all times, while the bare nipples of her cohorts elicit virtually no commentary.

Those making the most noise appear to see no contradiction here.

Breitbart and others even added a censor bar over Montoya's chest, despite the fact that her nipples remained completely covered by her hands in the video, per TikTok’s terms of service; anyway, there are swimsuits that show this much skin.

For their part, the White House did what we can always count on venerable institutions to do: erring on the side of decorum and protocol, they issued a statement condemning the ultimately silly and harmless action and banning the offending parties from future events.

All this could’ve been just a tiny blip of news during an already spicy Pride season. But instead, due to the incessant right-wing coverage, I’d wager more young people have ended up seen 87% of Montoya’s breasts than they ever would have otherwise. By insisting so loudly that this sight is too sick to be shown, Ron DeSantis et all have guaranteed its instant status as a historic photograph.

Attributing anyone’s momentary, partial, non-sexual nudity on a warm summer day to an "ideology" is beyond stupid, even if it happens in front of a famous government building. But sadly, a lot of the backlash Montoya's been getting is from fellow LGBTQ+ people, lamenting that she’s recklessly endangered their shared cause. Her posts about the incident online (which have since been deleted) were swarmed with comments from hundreds of gay and trans folks condemning her behavior, in most instances blaming her for the additional danger and hatred they imagine will result from it.

It’s confusing to see these responses coming the kind of nice, liberal LGBT parents who have probably taught their own children “These are your body parts and nothing to be ashamed of.”

So here’s some remedial Pride 101 for them, and for you.

It’s quite understandable if you wouldn't personally do this at a high-visibility event. I probably wouldn't either! Just like I personally don't attend Pride marches in my underpants (though I do consider fishnets and heels professional attire). But other people do, and it's completely fine. It’s called minding your own business, more people should try it!

The mere fact of the trans flag being flown at the White House was already generating hatred and headlines before this particular story broke. Joining conservatives in heaping outrage and judgment on these individuals has been more damaging to our our community than flashing a little skin in public, full stop.

L’s, G’s, B’s, T’s, Q’s have been arguing about this stuff since the very beginning of Pride, back when it seemed to some like respectability and visibility ought to proceed hand in hand: it was presumed that parades of gay men in suits and ties looking decent and professional would swing public opinion in our favor. But then who gets to be included in that “our?”

Because of pervasive racism and misogyny, trans women/POC will always run afoul of respectability politics, and be most heavily impacted and penalized by them. That’s exactly what occurred during the ‘90s and early 2000s as the missions of every powerful LGBT advocacy organization were increasingly overseen by white, cisgender gay people, particularly men. Trans rights in particular were given short shrift, inspiring many of these activists to branch off and form their own more inclusive organizations — and evidence of their success can be seen in the steady gains won by trans folks over the past decade, and the broader trend toward intersectionality in our community.

These victories have been responsible for the more recent push to keep queerness, transness, and people of color at the forefront of the Pride movement, and to remain inclusive of other factors intersecting with our community, such as rights for sex workers and the disabled. We’re a scruffy, wide-ranging bloc made up of edge-cases and voices from the margins. No one activist can effectively speak for all these groups… and that also means no one activist can sink their cause.

But infighting will always easier than facing our common enemy. This is the perpetual appeal of “punching down,” especially in moments of anxiety about one’s own safety or status. So far there doesn’t seem to be any real momentum behind the “LGB without the QT” movement, which seeks to fully divorce sexual orientation from gender in social issues, but I can see how it might be tempting for more conservative gays who feel relatively safe in public and can’t relate to the “pronoun people.”

Status is almost always at the root of these anxieties. Why should anyone risk what they’ve already gained by associating themselves with those being demonized?

Fortunately or otherwise, 2023 has been rife with examples showing that no amount of modesty or assimilation will save the so-called model minority. Even the most innocuous gay-friendly content has been yanked from libraries. Obergefell v Hodges, the case which legalized gay marriage nationwide, could still be overturned by the conservative-stacked SCOTUS. There is no safe harbor for model minorities in this country. As Little Edie Beale sagely observed in Grey Gardens: “Honestly, they can get you in East Hampton for wearing red shoes on a Thursday." They can get you for anything.

They'll come after boring, state-sanctioned gay marriages and rainbow families just as eagerly as they've cracked down on online sex work or carefree expressions of trans joy. They might say they don't care what anyone does in the privacy of their own home, but later on your modesty will be used as proof that you had something to hide all along.

Immediately following the event Montoya was a bit flippant about the backlash to her fleeting expression of trans joy, but now she’s issued a full video apology in the wake of inevitable aftershocks from that moment, which have let to the harassment of her family and friends, as well as journalists showing up uninvited at her home.

Her statement is worth listening to in full. I believe Montoya’s integrity as an activist was fully present in the moment when she posed for that quick video, even if she inadequately imagined the consequences she (and others) would face as a result. The fear and remorse evident in this carefully-scripted apology saddens me, but her integrity and commitment to her community remain consistent throughout.

Some critics may feel vindicated by having successfully bullied her into this retreat (“It's important to know the difference between a party and a professional setting if you want to be taken seriously,” one admonishes her in the comments) but there’s nothing for them to feel proud of here. Harmless moments of trans joy simply should not come at this high a price. Or cisgender joy for that matter, because the world has much bigger problems than the occasional boob-flash, and men show off theirs all the time.

One of the strengths of the Pride movement has always been that some of us are capable of taking risks others couldn’t, or wouldn’t. Some can afford to get arrested, or engage in direct action, or be whistleblowers. Some are relatively normal folks operating incognito, quietly shifting conversations around these issues wherever they end up. Some are raising uniquely visible families or running for elected office, while still others are defiantly and unapologetically sharing their sexual selves with the world. And some are capable of balancing many of these at once! There is no one path, no prescribed outcome.

Keep that in mind as various forms of activism continue to spur us lumpily onward: what we’re all fighting for is the right to be messy, complete people — or even buttoned-up, incomplete ones. Human rights don't come with a dress code.

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