Pot of Plot

Just saw an epic plot play out in the pot in which I was boiling water for spaghetti. Yeah, I'm that geeky. I added a bit of olive oil first to keep the pasta from sticking--at this point, the water wasn't even bubbling. 

But as it warmed, the blobs of oil began to swirl and bump, like influential houses testing each others' mettle. Some smaller ones were quickly absorbed, or sent to the edge of the pot, seemingly out of the action.

I picked one blob to be my protagonist. It was doing well for awhile, absorbing a couple of small blobs, avoiding being absorbed by larger blobs, and avoiding some odd, long string of oil that invaded from the edge, then broke off into rampaging bands of brigands. But then, tragedy! My blob was joined to the edge, and spread itself evenly around the pot, seemingly consigned to watch forever more.

But no. That's not how my pasta water and I roll. The rival blob that had been my blob's biggest threat lengthened and got pinched between two other, smaller blobs who I swear were teaming up. It got bent and its edge lost its cohesion, and while it was joining with one blob, the other changed its mind and joined forces with my original blob, now guardian of the edge of the known world.

Suddenly, the edge had power! And just then, the water began to boil. Bubbles rose up beneath the last remaining oil blob. They ran together and joined forces, creating rifts, holes, within the group. Eventually, to my surprise, they joined and so destabilized the oil that it split into two rival halves who batted at each other in the hot, tense environment of my pot. Meanwhile, my protagonist remained calm and poised, riding out the storm.

A minute later, the rival factions of the last remaining oil blob joined forces again, but it was too late. They'd become riddled with microbubbles. Their power was spent, and their destruction was assured. Never again would the cooking pot see such power struggles, such epic contendings for prime spots atop the water, such alliances smooth and inevitable. Such a twist in the holding of power--the seeming downfall of the hero turned into the one true bastion of strength--would never come again.

Until suppertime.

I Do Not Think It Means What You Think It Means

Over the past few years, I've read several novels that had a gay/lesbian side character who, at some point in the book, made a comment about a member of the opposite gender thusly: "Ooh, that character's so attractive, he/she could definitely turn me straight!"

Seriously, there are so many of these lines out there that I don't even have to think about their existence. They're out there, a mini phenomenon. But recently, I stopped to consider what that line actually means to me. And I'm not happy with the results of that thinking binge, not at all. Which is always a risk you take when you start thinking, so don't worry. I know the risks of binge thinking, but they won't scare me off. I'll be at it again soon.

Anyway. My binge thinking began by reminding me of this fun video on YouTube, called When Did You Choose to be Straight? From there, I started feeling this as-yet-unnamed horror creeping up my psyche, in regards to the quote at the top of this post.

Why is it that only the gay and lesbian characters say that line? I've never seen a straight character say it. I don't hope they're out there, for reasons I'll get to in a minute, but if there were books with straight characters saying some version of that line, I'd at least feel that I were living among slightly less discrimination than usual.

See, when only the homosexual characters say that line, it implies that authors, as one body of writers, are living with the apparently obvious "truth" that gay characters can change their sexual orientation at will, while straight characters wouldn't even consider it. Reading that line runs me right past "Oh, it's just a flirty line saying someone's hot" and straight into "Maybe you should stick to writing what you know."

It gets worse, at least in my head. I tried to apply that line to myself. How would I have to be feeling if I were to say that line out loud and mean it? I couldn't come up with any possible situation. Then I worked on creating an equivalent statement for myself, and I got horrified enough to get out of bed and post this before breakfast.

For me, personally and individually, "Ooh, that character's so attractive, he/she could definitely turn me straight!" is the perfect equivalent of: "Ooh, that character's so attractive, he could definitely make me like getting raped by him!"

Just. No. The line is only humorous until you stop and think about what it actually says: that GLBTQ characters have no original orientation and don't want one. I'm as straight as they come and I'm offended. (I hope that's okay, because that isn't changing, either.)

This is just one of the many examples of homosexual stereotyping in fiction that have been jumping out at me as poor choices for creating a balanced reaction in readers' minds. Homosexuality is just one facet of real people's lives. Why does it have to be expanded into glib stereotyping in fiction? It doesn't.