Rant no. I don’t know what number it is anymore: Good Omens (TV) and Gender Expression made me realize some things about myself
This is sort of an essay, sort of a thank you letter, but definitely a long Tumblr post.
If you asked me several weeks ago about my sexual or gender identities, I would have shrugged rather noncommittally and said something like, “Bisexual, probably,” or “Eh.” Which isn’t an answer a lot of people find welcoming, especially during Pride Month, when everyone is rejoicing in their expression of gender and sexuality. (Disclaimer: It is very important for many, many people to have labels and have pride in them. That is awesome and beautiful to see, but I can’t find myself with a lot of pride in labels, which is probably something for a therapist to take a stab at.)
But @neil-gaiman answered a wonderful question recently about the gender expression of his and Terry Pratchett's characters in the Good Omens TV Show. He said something about angels and demons is sexless, which is in the book and general knowledge, and that Crowley, in particular, is generally male presenting, except when he’s a nanny.
Except when he’s a nanny.
There’s no label there. I know so many people are searching for it and Neil has made it perfectly clear that we are allowed to apply whatever labels we see fit. But for me, it is so fucking refreshing to see it as something that doesn’t need an explanation.
That last bit, for whatever reason, was like some sort of epiphany for me. It was the middle of Pride Month and I was lamenting about how I don’t fit any of these labels, how I don’t want to have to fit them. Suddenly I was thinking, “Eureka! I’ve found it!”
The TV show was a whole new, wondrous experience. I had read the book before and always wondered why I resonated with Crowley so much, but seeing a visual image of it all made me realize.
Crowley, my dear boy, doesn’t give two shits what anybody thinks about how he expresses himself. Because he’s a demon. A fallen angel nearly as old as the universe, who hung the stars in the sky and promptly sauntered vaguely downwards once he was happy with them, and he doesn’t have to fit. Because he’s ethereal, or occult, or whatever, he’s cooler than us.
And neither do I, and I should be allowed to just exist without having to figure everything out. If beings thousands of years old don’t know shit about the Ineffable Plan, then I don’t need to figure it all out either. I wish people would stop telling me I need to.
I’m a generally female presenting but masculine/androgynous expressing entity, except when I’m the opposite or something different, who resonates more with male characters, usually but not always, and whose concept of sexual and romantic identity really depends on the person and probably the time of year and whether or not a solar eclipse is nearing, but girls are pretty beautiful regardless of the position of the stars. And damn, I wish I was as good at naming myself as Anthony J. Crowley is.
And, honestly, Fuck the gender binary. I have taken the Gender/Sexuality spectrum, turned it into one of those rainbow color palettes on Photoshop, and I am the cursor on the screen. I will click wherever I so please.
Anyway, this has been long, but I should conclude Pride Month by with some pride, eh? I must thank Neil Gaiman, the late Terry Pratchett, the actors, and everyone who contributed to this project for helping me accept myself. So many other people have already thanked them, but I’ll add to the pile.
