What kind of man are you?

I recently watched a documentary called The Butch Factor, a film directed and pieced together by the obviously talented Christopher Hines. The tagline, which serves the film well, is, “What kind of man are you?” This is a surprisingly relevant question in the queer community. At only 76 minutes, the documentary profiles a series of men, talking to them about the stereotypes they face, what it meant for them to come out, and the journey of finding a place in the community in which they fully belong.

It’s funny how the universe works – sometimes exactly what you need falls in to your lap. Given to me by Peers for Pride’s director, Shane Whalley, I took way too much time to watch it. I’m the first to admit this. Often I can be found feeling way more overwhelmed than I should be, causing me to reject consuming anything other than what is directly required of me. Last week, I had two facilitations (one for a musicology class and another for an open public performance) and perhaps watching this documentary beforehand would have made me feel more prepared for whatever came my way. I didn’t have any moments in which I felt unprepared or misunderstood while facilitating, but it is always helpful to have an abundance of resources to think of. While I can definitely already relate to stereotypes and the struggle of finding a niche for myself, The Butch Factor is vitally informative in the most beautiful and surprising way, giving off an easily contagious glow of acceptance to anyone who watches it.

My monologue focuses on body image issues and how necessary it is to accept you for yourself. Specifically, my monologue is aimed at the issues gay men face and this documentary has the same focus, providing multiple examples from different men who have different and unique definitions of masculinity. These definitions have been created from their own experience and from the different people and activities that fill up their days. These men aimed to separate themselves from the rules of what being a man has meant in the past – something I think everyone should think about.

At one point during the film, one of the men interviewed offers a list of adjectives typically associated with being masculine, then a few words that challenge that. He ends his interview by saying, essentially, "I am everything." I must recommend this film whole-heartedly just as I must recommend that everyone make up their own rules about gender and sexuality and all other identities. To me, working so avidly to fit a mold is a waste of time.

Ableism Impacts Queer Folk, Too

This is from Jenny Morris’ poem, “Pride Against Prejudice”:

“That if we are not married or in a long-term relationship it is because no one wants us and not through our personal choice to remain single or live alone.

That if we do not have a child it must be the cause of abject sorrow to us and likewise never through choice.

That any able-bodied person who married us must have done so for one of the following suspicious motives and never through love: desire to hide his/her own inadequacies in the disable partner’s obvious ones; an altruistic and saintly desire to sacrifice their lives to our care; neurosis of some sort, or plain old fashioned fortune-hunting.

That if we have a partner who is also disabled, we chose each other for no other reason, and not for any other qualities we might possess. When we choose ‘our own kind’ in this way the able-bodied world feels relieved, until of course we wish to have children; then we’re seen as irresponsible.” (Shakespeare, 1996)

This poem reflects a lot of the stereotypes I somehow know. I don’t’ specifically remember people telling me to believe these things, but they were assumed through glances, side comments, and pointed fingers. Over the last few weeks I’ve been reading “Queer Crips” and “Restricted Access,” books about Gay Men and Lesbians with disabilities respectively. They are creative narratives and poems about real people’s experiences. They broke down a lot of the stereotypes I had and helped me realize the paternalism that bombards people with disabilities (PWDs).
I used the word “Crip” in my paper instead of PWDs because it sounds like a reclamation term akin to “Queer.” This is how I defined it based on my readings:

“Crip” is used as a reclamation term to represent the identities developed around disability status. An underlying philosophy of Crip identity is the negation of the disempowering biological determinism behind the word “disability.” The word, “impairment,” refers to a physical barrier in one’s ability to do something, whereas “disability” refers to the social difficulties created by being a physically, mentally, or emotionally marginalized or a part of a socially disadvantaged group (Shakespeare, 1996).



The social movement to enrich Crip identity and opportunity has largely emerged from the U.K. via a small circle of authors, activists, and organizations. One of the first hurdles in confronting stereotypes about Queer Crip folk is the desexualization/ asexualization that comes from paternalism aimed at PWDs. Crips are portrayed as weak, dependant, and many of the stereotypes touched on in Morris’ poem. Perpetuating these stereotypes lead to prejudgment of people that fit these stereotypes (a.k.a. prejudice), acting on that prejudice (a.k.a. discrimination), and socio-politically institutionalizing that discrimination (a.k.a. oppression).

There were times when I felt really good about myself for walking a blind student to class, like I had helped the helpless. Then I started working with Deaf kids and realized they’re just as wild and hilarious as hearing kids. Just because someone experiences life in a differently tangible way, doesn’t make them “less than” or dependant on my altruism. I am privileged to live a world created to benefit me. The social structures created to suit non-Crips limit access to Crips. When those structures privilege Hetero non-Crips, the Queer Crip life gets even more difficult.