Howdy, Michael C. Bryan here and welcome to another episode of The Michael C. Bryan Hour- where nothing is taboo. Disclaimer: things might get provocative. Discretion is advised.
The other day I attended a panel in Manhattan where the heads of the largest media corporations in the world talked about the future of digital media.   Although the rhetoric was as circular as a political debate (babble and babble about a whole lot of nothing) the bottom line was that the world is changing and we either blend or change with it, or we dig out feet into the ground and refuse to expand.  It was the old discussion of data versus content, and I was bored until one executive said “We’re no longer living in a binary world.  Everything now is non-binary.  We either embrace that truth and evolve, or we stay stagnant and totally lose touch with the world.”
I got an intellectual chubby when I heard that, and not only because the guy saying it had really big shoes (*cough, cough*) but because a few days prior I had interviewed my friend Drew who, up until only a few years ago, had the exterior of a biological female and is now externally (he’s always been internally) a male.
I’ve always been fascinated by the idea of a non-binary life, meaning, a life which is a blending of more than one gender and one sexual identity. While those two things are very different (gender and sexual identity, like nature versus nurture and Madonna versus Beyoncé) there is something so very right about men becoming more whole by embracing their femininity and women embracing their masculinity.
I write this but I also know if there is one button that can be pressed with a lot of people, it’s someone whose gender isn’t entirely clear.  It freaks people out. We need to know.  We don’t like not being clear if someone is male or female.  When someone lives in that rare land of ambiguity it makes people uncomfortable because it cause them to feel on unstable sexual and gender ground.   It’s why you either loved David Bowie or just didn’t get him.
While I’ve never questioned my gender, I’ve had lots of great sex with drag queens and I’ve dressed in drag myself.  I can’t say I’ve have a fetish for heels and stockings, but I also can’t say I don’t.  Years ago when I was living in the east village in Manhattan I knew this guy I’ll call Carl.  He was from a prominent family, flamingly gay and had a fabulous, broken down apartment in the east village.  All of the apartments in the east village that are of the older variety seem two seconds away from bursting into flames.  His was no exception.  Huge and sprawling and dirty and cavernous.  It was dark and full of shadows and wonderful.
Carl was a slightly infamous drag queen in Manhattan.  Always with bushy eyebrows and a demure skirt and a sensible hat and very minimal makeup.  Whenever I was around him I felt like I was hanging out with Martha Stewart with a penis and a very deep voice.  We flirted and had a fun little romance.  During sex I used to ask him to keep on his heels and skirt and he didn’t like that much.  He wanted to be all man with me, and the funny part was I was less attracted to him out of a dress than in a dress.
I’ve worn drag and dressed up my entire life, but not in a way where I tried to pass as a woman in public. I mean, I was never one to throw on a mini skirt and go buy a gallon of milk.  I was more of a dress up and parade in bars and in cars and be a bit of a whore and laugh late into the night guy.  But that’s all play and enjoying the fun of drag which, as we all know, is a means to make fun of social norms of what is socially acceptable behavior, and if there one thing I adore it’s smashing the taboos of what is acceptable behavior.
Which is why I find it odd that so many gay men love drag queens, but don’t want to fuck a drag queen even when the drag queen is out of drag and clearly a man.  Something is off in all that and I