One of the best (read: worst) things about being visibly queer is the tirade of boring and generic street harrasment that must be endured. Yes, I know that this is not specific to queer people, and yes, I know that—as gender normative cis folk—my partner and I (sadly) get off pretty lightly. However presented here for your entertainment today are a couple of the Pulitzer-nominated offerings that regularly crop up among the dross we stomach while making the audacious and inflammatory move of stepping outside our front door:
1) “Which one of you is the man?”
What you mean is: how do we have sex. Which one of us wears the strap on. Which one of us gets fucked. I can (sadly) understand the confusion—if your only conceptualisation of sex is a penis insterted monotonously and repeatedly into a vagina, contemplating how one might achieve sexual congress without one of those vital elements must be a real head-scratcher. Seriously, whenever someone expresses concern over how my girlfriend and I get each other off, all I feel is sadness for anyone that person has ever slept with. If you actually do nothing other than insert tab A into slot B, you are not good at sex.
2) “Can I watch (or join) you having sex?”
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Yes, I know this one isn’t a question, but it’s the most common thing that gets yelled at us as we casually walk around town. I honestly don’t understand what the point of this is. The yellers are always men, in groups of three or more, and never respond well to being told where to shove their inane observations. Like, really—do they think we don’t know?
4) *leers* or *grabs/rubs crotch in our general direction*
You are the reason women know how to walk puposefully, staying in well-lit areas, with their keys inbetween their fingers.
The moral of the story: you’re not original, you’re not funny, you’re not cool. Don’t be that asshole who spews crap at strangers. And learn some new moves—your partner will thank you for it.