In Which There Is A Genderfuck Pubcrawl

Hello, Gentle Reader. You’re back! I have to say how surprised and gratified by how much traffic my humble offering of yesterday received. Here I was, blearily musing to the void, and far more people than ever expected seem to have been touched by my barely-coherent plea. Thank you; I hope that I can continue to please, and to inspire.

As it happens, I’m working on a tour of America, in honor of the 45th anniversary of the Stonewall Riots, in the summer of 2014. I want to take a bus full of people of all genders, sexualities, etc., and bring Pride to small, sleepy towns – the most homophobic, repressed places that I can find, in aid of helping locals, so that they know that they’re not alone, and to help change the attitudes of bigots everywhere. It’s a work in progress; expect me to mention it periodically. UPDATE: While I really do love this project, Europe may be is getting in the way.

I’d like to talk today about the Genderfuck Pub-crawl that I put together a few years ago, that was a bit more of a flop than anticipated. Essentially, I’d just come across the concept of genderfuck, and was thrilled. It’s a sort of aggressive blending of outward gender displays.


In light of that, I grew out the most robust beard that I could muster, and went dress shopping with a few, straight, cis, friends.

Though I had spread the word as best I could, I only had three companions for this venture. I was a little disappointed – sometimes, the fires of injustice burn so brightly in my chest, and though my sphere is small, I want to shock the world into being a decent place to live. My companions – whose gender, identity, and sexuality are irrelevant – and I prepared ourselves; Cocktail dresses, flannel, military caps, glittered six-inch-heels, six-month beards, bow ties, and a drag queen army’s worth of make-up.  Thus attired,  we began.

In Tacoma, while there are bars and pubs scattered all over town, Sixth Avenue is rife with them, all in one place. While we intended to end at the Mix -which, as should be clear by now- is a gay bar, we were primarily aiming for straight bars and clubs. Frankly, I was looking for a fight.

The first bar we went to, there were a few awkward glances, but no immediate reaction. As we sat at the bar, however, the bartender – who was not busy, I must add – refused to make eye contact, or take our order. When the two of us with beards took ourselves out front, for a quick cigarette, though, the two (born female, though not presenting as such at this time) were able to get get service.

While outside, we also nearly caused an accident. Apparently our appearance was a trifle distracting, for the teenaged driver. Regaining control of his car, he pulled over, and shouted out his passenger window, “Why the fuck are you dressed like that?” My companion shouted back, “Why the fuck not?”


Tired of not getting service, we set off for the next bar. This one is an “Irish Pub,” in that it’s actually a sports bar that serves Shepherd’s Pie. It’s mainly populated by sixty-something day-drinkers and recent ex-frat-boys, and I expected a more exciting reaction. However, there was not even one double-take. We were served, the staff were polite, and we remained unmolested by the patrons. On we went.

At our next establishment – a college bar, popular with the locals – it was more of the same: a complete non-starter. Zip. Though there were a few more planned spots that we wanted to hit, at this point, we decided to pack it in, and just head to the Mix, in disappointment. Here, we got a reaction: We were welcomed with open arms; embraced as part of the diverse community and family.

While we were thwarted in our aims of changing the world that day, I like to think that perhaps we opened some eyes. Sometimes, that’s all we can do; sometimes visibility is the action that’s required. Sometimes, you need to be who you are harder than ever, in order to live.

Cocktail Dress


About Ty DeLyte

Madame DeLyte has suffered a grave disappointment - YET AGAIN - and still believes that freedom, beauty, and truth are what's valuable, rather than vulgar cash. He'd add love to that list - but, well, what can he say about love?
This entry was posted in Adventures and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

16 Responses to In Which There Is A Genderfuck Pubcrawl

  1. Karen Eggers says:

    For me this post has shown how this country has moved towards acceptance. Not enought for sure, but definately a good start.

  2. ekgo says:

    Why do you have such nice arms?? I don’t have nice arms. Mine all all batwinged flabby. And I don’t know why I equated your arms with mine but I just assumed we had the same arms. I see now that we do not. Yours are very nice.
    I am shamed. I should do push ups. But not right now.
    If you’re wondering – I catalog two books, then come read a post. It’s helping me get through the day.

    • Tyler J. Yoder says:

      I don’t know. I get that a lot about the arms, but I don’t really do anything. I think that I acquired them from concrete years ago and then they just never really went away. I’m insecure about them, though – I hate having my shoulders uncovered, for example, to the point where I get snappish and unreasonable at people.

      That explains why you’re going through them so quickly! I *was* getting ready for my 2:00 appointment, but then she telephoned and hasn’t even left the house yet, so I have a little time to catch up after all. 😀

      • ekgo says:

        Yeah, you have never said anything to indicate you pump iron and do chin ups in the bathroom door. Maybe that’s why I was surprised by your arms. I can see why people – me, included – notice them all the time. I’m sorry you don’t love them as much as everyone else does because, really, they are really nice. This will be a problem when you live in the basement. I will want to touch your arms and probably your shoulders so you should always wear long sleeves to prevent that from happening.

        • Tyler J. Yoder says:

          I tend to wear capes and shawls, which grant shoulder access easily, and jackets that are impossible to get out of, which do not.

          • ekgo says:

            I will filtch your shawls. I am often cold. I have my own cape, though. Well, ok, it’s a cloak but a cloak is nothing more than a cape made of wool with a fancy button in front.

          • Tyler J. Yoder says:

            I always thought that the difference was whether or not it had a hood, but I’m not an expert. I really miss my black velvet cloak, which was lined with canvas so that if it were raining I could flip it inside out and it would be waterproof. Also, it looked amazing with my Hamlet get-up.

          • ekgo says:

            You know, I’m not ackshually an expert on these things, either. I’ve just seen capes with hoods that are called capes and cloaks without hoods that are called cloaks and the only difference I’ve noticed between the two was the thickness and heft of the fabric. But, dude, I live in Colorado. We’re not precisely known for our fashion forward ways. We’re more of the ranchery westerny sort. Or the Birkenstock type. So I can’t claim cloak/cape knowledge with any authority except to say I have a green wool cloak and it is very warm. And itchy.

          • Tyler J. Yoder says:

            I’m sure that it’s perfect when it’s terrifyingly cold, which I assume is always the case in Colorado. I can’t claim to have any help about the itchiness, because wool is going to wool.

          • ekgo says:

            You know, it used to be terrifyingly cold in Colorado all the damned time. But, you know, climate change and all that. Now my town, the one that never saw temperatures above 80 degrees even in the dog days of summer? It hit 90 in June. And then the forest nearby burned down. So really, Colorado is the new Arizona and I have no need for a warm, wooly cloak. And yet, I will keep and wear it anyway. And be itchy. See if I don’t.

          • Tyler J. Yoder says:

            Well, as my dear Miss Ward always used to say, “Pinch to be Pretty”

          • ekgo says:

            Did she specify who got pinched? Because I would love pinching little kids and obstreperous people. I think the maniacal grin pinching puts on my face makes me very pretty. Rosy-cheeked, and everything!

          • Tyler J. Yoder says:

            I think that she just meant that beauty is suffering, but I like your interpretation better.

  3. Pingback: Tyler J. Yoder and the K.P. Culture | Whimsical Adventures of the Reverend Doctor

  4. Jake Cohen says:

    You know what you’re really acting like? Not a man, not a woman, not a gay, and not a transmolester. You’re acting like a terrorist.

    • Then I’m afraid we have different definitions of terrorist. Queer visibility is important to me, and the first step to broader acceptance in this country. By being in a public space, utilizing my freedom to dress and act as I please, while remaining non-confrontational (although, sensibly, prepared for a fight should one break out) I was somehow behaving in the same way as someone who, for example, hijacked an airplane and killed a bunch of innocent people? Personally, I think I have more in common with those brave souls during the Civil Rights movement at Sit-Ins.

      But, given your use of the term “transmolester”, I’m sure your views are different. Cheers.

Have something to say, darling? Don't be shy!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s