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I realized my desire for male validation wasn’t even my own. The second I learned about this, something clicked. It’s a big document explaining comphet and its effects in detail. I believe that the Lesbian Masterdoc is a gift from Sappho herself. One day, as I scrolled through social media, I discovered the Lesbian Masterdoc. Something as personal as desires sometimes just ends up being what we’ve been told to desire.
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You realize how much of your personality didn’t even come from you. Realizing the forces of comphet in one’s own life can be incredibly powerful, but also sad. We’re supposed to walk behind, talk softly, and love unconditionally. Our dresses are supposed to be just the perfect amount of revealing (but not too revealing). We’re told to be fun, bubbly, and smart (but not too smart). Women are taught to perform their femininity for men. Assumptions are thrown around like confetti.
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And if you’re designated to be a pretty baby girl, you get called “princess” and told you’ll be a real boy magnet when you grow up.
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AM I GAY MASTERDOC ARCHIVE
Equality Archive describes it as “a system of oppression that denies people’s sexual self-determination by presenting heterosexuality as the sole model of acceptable sexual and romantic relationship.” Comphet for short, it’s a system that everyone’s thrown into the second they’re born. Each night I went out, I followed a similar script-a script that I later realized wasn’t mine to begin with.Ĭompulsive heterosexuality. With lipstick and mascara applied, with my hair long, beautiful, and straight, I was ready. For the second act, I pulled out my curve hugging, booty-popping, bodycon dress that my friend assured me would make me a guy magnet. The first act had me jumping, grunting, and panting as I struggled to pull the Spanx above my ass. This play was as much comedy as it was tragedy. I could be the perfect amount of coy and soft-spoken and flirty. The performance went a bit like this: welcome to the show, take a seat. I was ashamed to admit it to myself, but I realized that my femininity was a performance for everybody but myself. I liked dressing up pretty (but the specific kind of pretty, the kind that’s expected of me). I didn’t like men, but I liked when they gave me attention.
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Truth be told, I found myself in a grey area that I didn’t quite know how to navigate. It fit me like an old pair of gloves: a little too big and rough around the edges, definitely not a perfect fit, but, well, they kept my hands warm. While I know that bisexuality is a completely valid identity in and of itself, I couldn’t help but feel that I was personally using it as a placeholder. But when it came to men, I figured I just hadn’t met the right one. I knew that I wasn’t straight dates with girls and one lesbian situationship clarified that enough for me. In retrospect, maybe I should have realized my sexuality before. But hey, at least I had a fun story to tell my friends now. After each escapade, I found myself feeling terrible about what I had done, knowing that I hadn’t really enjoyed it. It didn’t matter if it was a different boy, a different setting, or a different month. I could do that.Įach new experience felt like déjà vu. “You just have to experiment more, babe.” Okay, fine. My friends always told me that if the beard scratched me, it meant I wasn’t into him enough. So you do kiss him, but it’s not all fireworks and magic in fact, all you can really think about is how his beard itches, and how you’d much rather be alone in bed watching Bridget Jones’s Diary for the third time than making out with him. So what happens when the guy who’s nice enough to you starts flirting with you? Well, you flirt back, of course (or at least try to), and you tell him that you’d love to go out with him (even if you’re not completely sure that you like him), and you convince yourself he’s really cute (when the lighting’s good) and that (perhaps) you could kiss him. I’d never had one before and everyone told me it was high time. It was my first year at UofT and I was nervous. “He was totally flirting with you! Go get his number!” My friend squeezed my arm excitedly.