A while ago, Patrick wrote about touching. Being an anglo-saxon heterosexual male (I am a member of the dominant elite, go me), who you can touch is pretty circumscribed. You can't touch other men without being a "poofta". You can't touch a woman you are not involved with as that could be misinterpreted. In our culture (tho not others), touching is too tightly related to sex. And yet touch is about so much more than sex. Years ago, I was on a beach on a tiny island in Indonesia. And this old guy with huge hands is giving massages on the beach. And so I have a massage. And it's all innocuous. And I've been travelling for ages and I haven't been touched in months. And it's too much. I have to ask him to stop because I'm in tears.
A couple things happened tonight that triggered that reflection. The bad: a woman cracking a homo gag when I'm working with another guy in circus classes. The good: a Melbourne and a Brisbane poet (both male) having a hug and then bagging Sydney poets for keeping their (physical) distance.
I am one of the dominant elite. Fear me.
But don't come too close or else I might cry.
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2 comments:
great post Matt
Lovely post Matt you alpha male you ..
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