Let's face it. We're undone by each other. And if we're not, we're
missing something. If this seems so clearly the case with grief, it is
only because it was already the case with desire. One does not always
stay intact. It may be that one wants to, or does, but it may also be
that despite one's best efforts, one is undone, in the face of the
other, by the touch, by the scent, by the feel, by the prospect of the
touch, by the memory of the feel. And so when we speak about my sexuality or my gender,
as we do (and as we must), we mean something complicated by it. Neither
of these is precisely a possession, but both are to be understood as modes of being dispossessed, ways of being for another, or, indeed, by virtue of another.
-- Judith Butler, Undoing Gender
Wednesday, March 4, 2015
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