So where were we on this crazy busride? Oh right – a classic subject, Sexuality in Victorian England – and I also want to get in to how this relates to people who live in rural versus urban areas and their differences with regards to racism and sincerity – something which has Always fascinated me.
Ok, Blast Off!
Victorian era sexual repression is a fascinating window into human minds: and a great parallel to certain things about ways in which we live our every day lives. For example, I keep trying to tell people (this is my social theory, get ready for it) that people in Urban areas have more interactions with people – sometimes hundreds of small ones, every day. To give a fuck about each one would take WAY too much life energy, so our brains dissociate a bit from each interaction, choosing critically – but not by default – to engage more fully in only select few. This is how you can have a disabled woman fall on a bus and be struggling to get up, while everyone else just watches or looks away or tweets
about it. However, urbanites also have more interactions to draw from to form opinions, and are therefore less racist or homophobic or judgemental – they don’t care if you are ripping off your tearaway pants at a super market, they may send a tweet out like “saw a guy tearing his pants off in a supermarket – thank god his underwear was clean.” But they won’t judge you too much, or give that much of a fuck, because they saw Homeless Jeff wearing a pair of sweatpants as a scarf the other day – there are just too many interactions to get judgy on ppl based on race, religion or culture.
**Note: this is like working in a call centre, which I still do to this day:
If you have 70 calls in a day, and each one you allow yourself to be emotionally invested in – you will go insane. Which arguably did happen to me, although there are those that would say it just teased it out more. The only way to get through your day is to do the same thing as Torontonians: let it go, let it go… not let any one call, caller, or person’s issues get to you. People say the person answering their call ‘doesn’t care about my problems!’ Correct, and thank Fucking Christ that’s the case, or the suicide rate in call centres would be EVEN HIGHER. Lol
Now take rural areas. Jebidiah works on a farm, and in a day he probably sees an average of 5 people: 3 of which are his wife and kids, and then once a week he goes to church on Sunday and sees the 20 other people in the township of Erin, ON.
(haha that’s a joke, they have more than 20. BTW – church was Hugely important to society back in the day: ofcourse it was, it was the only day of the week you’d get to see other humans, unless you had an excuse to take the carriage to the general store, or were hanging out at the local pub again, If the village even had one.)
So basically – rural people have less interactions with people: so they are less de-sensitized to human contact. I took a bus once from Deva, a town in Romania, to Betruna – a tiny mountain village (also, strangely enough, in Romania.) The “bus” was a white cube van, with benches along the walls instead of seats: by the time we got off the bus, everyone knew each other’s names, mother’s maiden names, and I had spent half an hour entertaining two toddlers whose mother was talking with mine. Fewer interactions = deeper interactions. Now, there is a tendency towards xenophobia in rural areas: obvi. Because if you’ve only got 30 people that you see more than once a month, and 28 of them are white and 2 are Hispanic, you will meet an Asian guy and say “yippee-ki-yay, what are you, some kinda slant-eyed latino?” If there is only one gay dude, and he’s the preacher’s son, who came out After he dated the local warden’s daughter in highschool, then not only is that a scandal – you will probably also be a lot more homophobic than someone who lived on church st and waved at the dude wearing assless chaps in the pride parade one time.
You probably see the connection by now, but I’ll steam roll through: Victorian England, suddenly sexuality was not ok – it was obscene. Ever read Dracula? It’s a great book about xenophobia and Great Britain’s fear of Eastern European immigrants and their sexual ways.
I almost wonder if we will have a movie one of these days about sneaky, sexually repressed Syrian Refugees bringing in their evil ISIS terrorist friends and threatening the American heroes and our hedonistic “follow your dreams” way of life, until the American individualists defeat their evil fundamentalism… lol. Just like Every bad-guy-terrorist in every movie from the cold war era was from Russia or Poland.
Anyway, Dracula’s a great book – but the point is, sexuality was so hush hush, there was so little of it, that seeing a nicely shaped table leg could give you a hard on. These days it sounds insane hat they had longer tablecloths to cover table legs so men wouldn’t get turned on – but back in the
day, if the most skin I had seen in the last week was a cute girl’s cheekbone peeking out from her high collar, damned if I wouldn’t be popping boners from a nice table leg. Compared to now, when I have a friend who found himself Addicted to pornography: like, if he wasn’t watching a screaming actress getting nailed from behind, having an erection would be like trying to coax an 89 year old male into an orgasm, the only answer is Viagra or a skilled gypsy courtesan with magical powers.
Things have changed.
Where is all this going? …. …. Well … I mean, I didn’t say it was going anywhere…..
I guess maybe, awareness. If you see a transvestite and start getting judgy, stop and ask yourself – why is that? Do you not hang out with many transvestites? Is there anything wrong with them, or do you just have a limited experience with them? Alternately, if you live in a big city and you see someone fall and start speed-walking by, stop and ask yourself – true, you have lots of interactions a day, but is this maybe an opportunity to open it up a bit, and make this one Real?
I dunno, that’s all I can think of in terms of where to go with this. I think I may finally go hit that transit-bathroom… we’ll see if I can nap after all this excitement though lol. Until then, my friends, keep it real. Remember thy ids – I’m not saying let it run your life or anything, that’s Ron Jeremy’s thing (although to be fair it seemed to work for him lol) but don’t hide it in the closet either. Keep falling in love. and keep just living life.