Pansexual Awareness Day: All Your Burning Questions, Answered

Ask the average person what bisexuality is, and the answer is pretty straightforward — attraction to both genders. This is assuming the average person only knows/cares about the two mainstream genders, although anyone in the queer community knows bisexuals are attracted to people outside the male-female binary.

So if bisexuals are attracted to all genders, what on earth is a pansexual? After all, if the common assumption is that bisexuals are attracted to both, then pansexuals are attracted to all, including nonbinary people. But, like I mentioned above, the definition of bisexual has expanded to include nonbinary people as well. Pansexual is just another word for bisexual, then, right??

(Have I lost you yet?)

Today is Pansexual Awareness Day, and I’m sure if you’re reading this, you’re likely aware of me, a pansexual. Although I sometimes describe myself as bi (usually when I’m talking to older folks or want to associate myself with bisexual icon Freddie Mercury), I view my sexual/romantic orientation as mostly in-line with pansexuality. Bisexuality and pansexuality can be considered interchangeable, but there are some important distinctions you should know about. Here are some common questions I get asked. Let’s get the obvious out of the way.

Are you attracted to skillets?

I am not attracted to skillets, although I am attracted to Jen Ledger, the drummer of Skillet.

So you’re attracted to guys, girls, and enbies?

Well, kind of! You see, I’m not attracted to a certain gender or sex, per se. From what I understand, bisexuals are usually into peen and vageen. For pan people like me, the plumbing is irrelevant. If I like you, I like you!

You really don’t care about a person’s junk?

Not really. Genitals don’t really turn me on. I think there are more important things to consider when starting a relationship with someone.

Like?

How good they are at guitar? Kidding! (Mostly.) I do have preferences, looks-wise. But I consider sexual/romantic compatibility to be separate from gender.

You’re attracted to everyone?!

Absolutely not! It’s a common misconception that bisexuals and pansexuals are into everything with a heartbeat. Like everyone else, I have preferences and certain people I’m more “into” than others. Don’t assume I’ll sleep with or date just anyone. I’m actually pretty picky!

What is panromantic?

Panromantic people are romantically attracted to all genders. A lot of times, it goes hand-in-hand with pansexuality, but they’re technically different things.

Are pan and poly the same thing?

Not at all. While you can be both (and there is quite a bit of overlap), poly people have more than one partner or are open to the idea of having more than one partner. You don’t have to be pan to be poly, and you don’t have to be poly to be pan. Lots of pan folks are content with monogamy, and that’s okay too!

When did you know you were pan?

I think I’ve always known, to an extent. I liked guys (a lot), but I also realize I had a lot of “girl crushes” as an adolescent as well. I just didn’t recognize what they were until I learned what “gay” meant, and of course growing up in a conservative evangelical church, I squashed that part of me pretty quickly. I “experimented” in college because I thought that’s just what girls do with their female friends, and I realized I wasn’t very particular about what gender or genitalia my partner had, as long as they were pretty and nice (and musically talented). I finally came to terms with it when I noticed I’d rather be hanging out with my best friend than my own husband, and I came out when my old church announced a conversion therapy program for teenage girls. I knew deep inside I was one of those girls once, and I wanted to stand in solidarity with them. So I came out publicly as pan and haven’t looked back.

Well, this has been enlightening.

Thank you, unnamed theoretical person asking me these questions! And of course, if you have any other questions, feel free to drop them in the comments. Happy Pansexual Awareness Day!

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Grace Culture: Why Cancel Culture Needs to Go

Everyone sucks. It’s a pretty well-established fact of life. I suck. You suck. Your mom sucks. Hilary Clinton sucks. Donald Trump sucks. The Queen of England sucked. Name your favourite or least favourite person alive, and I can tell you with absolute certainty that they definitely suck. The very first thing we learn to do upon exiting the womb is suck (in a literal sense, but also in a figurative sense). It’s in our human nature.

There’s an entire tirade in the Bible about this, actually. It’s particularly referring to the Jewish and Greek folks who would have engaged with this writing at the time, but you could swap in any ol’ demographic and get the same idea. Black or white, cis or trans, Christian or atheist, and anyone and everyone else. We. All. Suck.

“None is righteous, no, not one;
no one understands;
no one seeks for God.

All have turned aside; together they have become worthless;
no one does good,
not even one.”
Romans 3:11-12

Recently, I’ve learned a lot of my favourite creators suck, too. And I’m not talking incredibly famous people, but people who are just like me, people who create and share things. These people are musicians and bloggers and writers who just so happened to reach the right amount of people to “make it,” whatever that even looks like. But the point is, I could be any one of them.

It’s exciting. It’s humbling. It’s scary.

One of my favourite YouTubers is apparently a nightmare to work with. Another took a picture with all her friends — who just so happened to be skinny, white-passing, and attractive by our narrow Euro-centric beauty conventions — and spun the post as body positivity. One of my favourite podcasts of all time got derailed because…I’m still not entirely sure. Stevie Nicks’ landmark song has a title that’s quite literally a racial slur. And I could list every infraction ever committed by my favourite guitarists, from John Mayer’s general fuckery to how Richie Sambora drove drunk with his daughter in the car. Even my beloved Chili Peppers aren’t innocent, sexually assaulting a fan in the early 90s and citing a porn star who was literally underage at the time she was active in the industry as a muse.

I’ve always wanted to be famous, ever since I was little and ran onstage at some show because I was mad the actresses were getting attention instead of me. I used to daydream at great length about becoming a rock star, crafting entire scenarios in my head about what my life and career would be like. I imagined the inevitable biopic that would be made about me, my internal dialogue becoming a narration of the story of my life from the perspective of someone who thought I was cool enough to make a movie about.

But at the same time, I don’t know if I can handle being famous. And that’s simply because I suck. Certainly not as much as some of the creators I mentioned above, but I still suck. I’ve said and done things I regret a lot, and I’m just lucky that I wasn’t in the spotlight at the time. Because I honestly don’t know if I could handle the criticism, even if it was justified. Especially if it was justified. I hate the feeling of being wrong, almost as much as I hate the idea of ever hurting anyone.

As a creator of any type, there’s so much pressure to be perfect, not just looks-wise but as a person as well. We need to be a role model. I don’t think that’s a bad thing. I think creators should strive to be positive influences for their fans, and I think creators should be held accountable when they inevitably fuck up. Some of those things might be unforgivable. Should the allegations against Michael Jackson be true, for example, we definitely need to stop holding him up as an idol. Should we stop listening to his music? I think that’s an even more complicated issue that I’ll probably address in a future post. But for relatively benign “maybe I didn’t realise this was racist at the time but now I know better” kinds of problematic behaviour, I think we need more space for grace. Because God knows I’ll need it.

I want so badly to make waves as a musician or writer, but sometimes I find myself paralysed by the pressure to be above reproach in all things. What if something I posted ten years ago on Facebook resurfaces and shows me as a total asshole now? You have to put yourself out there to get any ounce of fame, but in the process, you open yourself up to so much scrutiny. And sometimes I wonder if I could handle that. I cry if someone looks at me funny (I describe myself as “the stereotypical Pisces” for good reason). I think I could handle the press or some anonymous Twitter denizen calling me ugly or untalented. But if someone attacked my character, something I take more seriously than my looks or even my art, I’d probably lose it.

I hate the term “cancel culture” because of its association with the anti-“woke” (read: anti-any media that’s not cishet white male) rhetoric, but I think it’s time we cancel cancel culture to an extent. Rather, we need a grace culture, one where people are free to fuck up and be able to redeem themselves. We need to have open conversations with each other about why we suck and how we can suck less in a way that’s not defensive or vilifying. We need to be open to learning from one another.

Think of the Children! (An Easter Manifesto)

I originally posted this on my Facebook and Instagram pages (@thejessajoyce, if you’re curious), but I wanted to share this brief little write-up here as well. It’s so important to get this message out there since more often than not, the theoretical future of society and the fight to better it is co-opted by straight, cis, white, non-disabled people in an effort to tear down people who are not like them. I want to present a counter-argument. If all lives truly matter, as many on the political right say, and we must “think of the children,” my future children should be considered as well. There is room for everyone at the table of life, and we need to remember that this Easter.

Reading this book (Feminist Queer Crip by Alison Kafer) at the suggestion of one of my favorite professors for my capstone project on autism, and it feels especially poignant in the days of #blacklivesmatter and #SaveTheChildren and #autismawarenessmonth and the recent fight against drag and transgender rights. The first chapter talks a lot about the Child — the personification of the future of society — who is often politicized and weaponized. Think of the children, people say. The image of the Child is more often than not a white cishet non-disabled child born to white cishet non-disabled parents. This Child absolutely matters. But I’m not interested in fighting for him, not because I don’t care about him, but because he already has enough people fighting for his right to exist in peace. Instead, I want to fight for my children.

In a few short years, I’ll likely have a child of my own. That child will likely have a disability of some sort, or rather, a difference that makes it harder to exist in a world that isn’t built for her. Considering my family history, she’ll likely be autistic or ADHD. Depending on our donor, she will likely be at least part black, and she’ll have queer parents who will support her should she eventually come to terms with her own queerness. And guess what? Her life will matter too. She should have a right to exist in peace alongside the theoretical Child described above. I want her to have a future too.

That’s why it’s so important to keep fighting for equality. I feel like it’s important to note that it’s Easter Sunday as I post this. I am a Christian through and through, despite the fact that I don’t “fit” the American Evangelical mold, and I firmly believe that Christ died for EVERYONE. Not just white Americans or straight people or cisgender people or able-bodied and able-minded people. We are all wonderfully made and we all should have a right to inhabit this beautiful planet. This post is a call to prayer and more importantly, a call to action. We need to be a light to this sometimes dark and scary world. We need to keep fighting the good fight.

This Shit is Not Okay

I don’t even have a witty title for this. I’m so fucking beyond done with the alt-right, conservative Christendom, and their stranglehold on American politics. I don’t like getting political on here — I’d rather write about music and life hacks and inspiring things — but I can’t be silent about this shit.

There are calls to eradicate trans people. I wish I was exaggerating, but let’s hear the actual words of Michael Knowles, who spoke at the Conservative Political Action Conference on Saturday.

“For the good of society … transgenderism must be eradicated from public life entirely — the whole preposterous ideology, at every level.”

Oh, he can’t literally mean that, right? He just wants to ban drag shows. Never mind that the child beauty pageant world is a helluva lot more exploitative (and full of…dare I say…groomers). Or that more priests have molested children than drag queens. Masculine bodies in dresses are so scary, though.

That’s not what this fuckwad is talking about, though. Let him clarify.

“I called to ban transgenderism entirely … They said that I was calling for the extermination of transgender people. They said I was calling for a genocide … One, I don’t know how you could have a genocide of transgender people because genocide refers to genes, it refers to genetics, it refers to biology.”

So it’s not a genocide…because you’re not trying to eliminate a particular gene? But you’re cool with literally erasing an entire group of people? That’s not the part you want to backtrack on? Let’s hear more from this wadded up Subway napkin of a human being.

“Nobody is calling to exterminate anybody, because the other problem with that statement is that transgender people is not a real ontological category — it’s not a legitimate category of being. There are people who think that they are the wrong sex, but they are mistaken. They’re laboring under a delusion. And so we need to correct that delusion.”

And so we need to correct that delusion. Do tell, how do you plan on correcting that delusion? Surely it’s not through conversion therapy, which is proven to be ineffective and harmful. What’s the other option, die? Because it’s starting to seem like that’s what you want. I’m not even going to link to the nasty transphobic shit I’ve seen on the internet. I’d rather not dignify the shitstains who comment “41 percent” on pictures of trans folks just living their lives. But it’s obvious. If they can’t shut the fuck up and live their lives as their assigned gender, you want them dead.

You might say I don’t have a horse in this race. I’m not trans. I’m a cisgender woman. And yet somehow, the majority of the people I associate with are trans. My girlfriend is a trans woman. My three closest friends are trans women. My spiritual mentor is a trans woman. And when you talk shit about hurting them, you hurt me. Maybe that doesn’t matter to you. I’m just some chick with a blog, whatever. But you don’t know which of your loved ones could still be in the closet. You don’t know if your kid or parent or sibling or best friend has been struggling with their gender identity, and why would they let you in on that information if they were? You’re an asshole.

I wish I could humanize trans people in a way that would make their lives matter to you. I wish you could hear Tegan’s obnoxious laugh, or experience Pippa’s warm hugs. I wish you could feel the way Livvy makes me feel when her hand is in mine. I wish you would realize that these people are just like you. They have dreams and unique talents and personalities. They’re not some boogeyman trying to sneak into your daughter’s locker room or beat her swimming record. (And God knows no one would intentionally be in women’s sports, which are notoriously underpublicized and underfunded.)

I don’t even know how to end this. I’m just tired. I’m tired of folks not caring that literal genocidal rhetoric is being spewed by the people in power. I’m tired of worrying about my loved ones becoming victims of hate crimes. I’m tired of this shit being normalized. I’m so, so fucking tired.

Cyrus vs. Shapiro (and Why I Actually Find Myself Siding With Benny This Time)

Ah, Ben Shapiro. Enemy of wet pussies everywhere. Surely you’ve heard of him. When he’s not busy clearly not getting his wife off, he’s writing some astute observation on popular culture and denouncing how “woke” we’ve become as a society. And by woke, he means committing the heinous crime of, uh, acknowledging queer people exist. As if we have some kind of big gay agenda.

The real gay agenda is just a planner with every day labelled “nap cutely with girlfriend” in purple sparkly gel pen.

While I typically do not ascribe to his politics, they say a stopped clock is right twice a day. Here’s one such example:

Although “calling out literal Nazism” is such a low bar, it might as well be a honky tonk in hell.

And here’s the other:

If you didn’t catch the reference, he’s critiquing “Flowers” by Miley Cyrus, which is a veritable bop. Now typically, in a Cyrus vs. Shapiro battle, I’d be firmly on the side of Miley. I love Miley. And why wouldn’t I? She’s a raspy-voiced pansexual icon who can write a decent song. She’s basically me if I were way cooler.

And I would 100 percent wear this outfit.

But I think there’s some truth to what Shapiro is saying, as much as typing that makes me want to rip off my head with my bare hands and hurl it from the nearest window. I think there’s a serious toxic independence problem among young left-wing folks like me. Let me explain.

For a long time, people like me who were assigned female at birth had a single expectation in life — get married and start a family. We were essentially forced into being wives and mothers throughout most of history. Thankfully, the tide has turned and women are allowed to follow their passions outside of the home. We’re no longer limited by societal expectations.

But in freeing ourselves from the historical pressure to marry and reproduce, we’ve lost sight of the importance of love and family. Now I’m not talking about the traditional nuclear family of one man, one woman, two and a half kids, and maybe a dog. Families come in all shapes and sizes, and maybe blood isn’t what ties you to your loved ones. But in our effort to eschew these norms, I feel like we’ve swung too far to the other side, where we feel like we don’t need anyone anymore. And that’s such a lonely life to live.

Personally, I love being married. I love the idea of having children someday. I love the idea of raising them alongside the people I care about most, my chosen family (cue Rina Sawayama — again). And yet, a lot of folks my age will never get to experience that kind of unconditional love. They’ll mindlessly bounce from one shallow friendship or fling to another. I don’t think it’s healthy to live like that.

Maybe “family” is a dirty word to a lot of young queer and progressive-minded people. Our blood families may have disowned us for our beliefs or identities. But we’re adults now, and this is our chance to take back what should have been our birthright — a family who loves us relentlessly and unconditionally. The concept of family isn’t a liberal vs. conservative thing. It’s a human right.

I’m not saying I don’t get Miley’s side of the story either. Breakups suck, and one of the most cathartic things you can do is write a song about it (something I obviously know nothing about). But after your tears have dried, dust yourself off, get back out there, and love again. Go meet your future spouse(s), best friends, chosen family. Don’t let getting hurt keep you from the beauty that is having meaningful relationships. Let me say that again, in fancy letters:

Don’t let getting hurt keep you from the beauty that is having meaningful relationships.

As human beings, we were made to love. We’re not lone hunters. We are like lions, and we need the support of our pride to live the most fulfilling lives. Sure, Shapiro went on a bit of a tangent that’s not entirely related to Miley’s song (which is mostly just a fluffy heartbreak song, to be honest), but I think he has a valid point, as much as it pains me to admit it.

(The bass in “Flowers” still slaps, though.)