Browsing through the Internet, I came across a YouTube video called The Turing Test, Judith Butler’s Gender Performativity, and Her (2013), which explored the Turing Test (a test of a machine’s ability to exhibit intelligent behaviour) and Judith Butler’s gender performativity in the context of the 2013 American science-fiction romantic comedy-drama film Her. The film follows Theodore Twombly (Joaquin Phoenix), a man who develops a relationship with Samantha, an artificially intelligent virtual assistant personified through a female voice (Scarlett Johansson). The philosophical question debated in the video is if artificial intelligence can achieve some abstract idea of personhood or is the achievement of personhood always gendered.
In the film, Theodore develops a romantic attraction for a computer operating system (OS) created by him and feminized to suit his personality and idea of womanhood. In the video, reference is made to the gendering of technology and intelligence (Donna Kornhaber’s article From Posthuman to Postcinema: Crises of Subjecthood and Representation in Her published in Cinema Journal, University of Texas Press, 2017).
The discussion on the instability of gender, sexuality and desire set me thinking about tomboyish Laila, a friend of a friend. Out about being lesbian, she had been in a string of relationships with women till she met Gustav, a sweet and androgynous exchange student of history from Sweden. He was not the muscular, classically chiselled man in skinny fit shirts. Waifish Laila and languorous Gustav hit it off, from the word go. They were brothers in arms. They did everything together. He knew about her girlfriends and she knew about his. And, one day, they slept together.
The sex was okay, but Laila told Gustav that she could not get comfortable with him because his body hair bothered her and made her miss a woman’s body even more. To accommodate her desire, he shaved off his facial and body hair. When he showed off his smooth mahogany chest and legs, she was thrilled. She loved the feeling of his smooth skin against hers. His body was similar to that of a woman’s, if one could ignore the pelvic region. He was kind, gentle and tender. The experience was as good as being with a woman. The cuddling felt good, but the coitus itself turned her off. Gustav’s femininity attracted her. The fact that he was not a square-shouldered, barrel-chested, thick-limbed man, helped. His big eyes and his sensitive mouth betrayed his sentience. She wondered if he was a woman in a man’s body. However, Gustav did not think so. He was happy the way he was. He was happy playing a woman in bed for Laila.
Laila, who had been only with women till then, suddenly caught herself questioning her gender, her sexuality, her desire. Was she attracted to women or womanly characteristics? Why else was she with Gustav? Why had she never felt drawn to any other man before and what was it in Gustav that she felt safe to push her boundaries? Going beyond what she had experienced till then, she decided she was probably bisexual.
A freethinker, a libertine, Laila wanted to soak up all the sensual pleasures that the world had to offer. Indulging in experiences that satiated as well as piqued her curiosity, she wished to go beyond what was established. However, when the prospect of an actual sexual relationship with a man appeared, why did she not look forward to it?
She genuinely liked Gustav, but could not pursue a physical relationship with him because in the deepest recesses of her mind she knew she would never be comfortable with him in the intimate moments because of his anatomy. The fact that she felt comfortable with the androgynous man who performed the role of a woman, except during the act of penetration, made her weigh her desire, her preferences, her sexuality in a new light. Was it a testament that she was interested in women or in things that were feminine?
Laila had confronted a similar dilemma in earlier relationships as well. A girlfriend had accused her of never allowing her to touch her intimately. Now, Gustav too was charging her with the same offence. The elephant in the room had to be acknowledged and discussed. She could avoid it no longer. She liked to give but shied away from receiving. This seemed to be a bone of contention with her partners.
Was it necessary to enjoy the actual act of penetrative sex to be called a sexual being? Was the act necessary to show the other person that you truly loved or desired them? Searching for answers, she read about erotic desires and companionship, and love and lust, and everything in between. She stumbled across The Vagina Monologues, an episodic play written by playwright and activist V (formerly Eve Ensler) in 1994, where a woman declared that she liked giving more than receiving.
A burden was slowly lifted. The confusion and ambivalence diffused. She was normal. She was as regular as the average Jane. There is no one right way to express one’s feelings and desires. Theodore fell in love with Samantha, a computer OS. They had engaged in a form of phone sex. He was heartbroken when Samantha announced that the she was going away to a far-off place with other OSs. So, there can be multiple ways of desiring and even more ways of exercising the desires. The multiplicity of desires and acts of passion cannot be boxed in a streamlined manner. The heart wants what it wants and that too, in its own weird way. There is no single way to describe desire or go about desiring someone. Desire, in the same way as gender and sexuality, cannot be circumscribed within a monolith. Its very nature is wild. It does not obey boundaries. It is unabashed, brazen, audacious and irreverent.
If rules, heteronormative or any other kind, are to apply to desire, whom to desire, how to desire and furthermore, how to act on that desire, then the very essence of desire is stripped away. It restrains the fluidity of desire. However hard one may try, our desire in its unrestricted form cannot be wished away. It is there, sitting, waiting patiently, simmering beneath the surface, making its presence felt; waiting for the person to take cognizance.
The unpredictable nature of desire may overwhelm our personal sense of gender, sexuality and love and there is no universal way to make sense of the messy situations that we find ourselves in. Maybe this ambiguity, this messiness is the real essence of love and life. Maybe wading through this chaos sums up the journey of our lives. Perhaps living with this disorderliness and trying to make sense of it all is the enduring mystery of our lives.
It’s true that love, romance and desires can be messy and undefinable. If only the world was okay with its messy-ness, it would be such a lovely world.