R epublicans do have a certain mystique, don't they? You can see it in their clothes, in the way they hold their heads. They have horsey faces, a lot of them. They wear weird suits, regardless of gender. They like spying. They own boats. Frankly, I'm always surprised they exist. I've blocked them out.
But Republicans can be kind of sexy. In the same way that ugly can be uglyhot and stupid can be funny. Plus, I always got a kick out of how Claire on Six Feet Under fell for that Republican guy in the end. I would never actually touch a Republican; that might encourage them. But I've had a fantasy or two in my time...
I guess she wasn't really a Republican so much as her parents were big-time Republicans. Had a horsey face. Had hoop earrings and a gray-and-white miniskirt with a matching gray-and-white off-the-shoulder top. Had posters of the hunks from 90210 in her bedroom. She held slumber parties where we all went batshitwild in her basement. She had a Nintendo. I did not. She had a mudroom and a jungle gym and tons of friends who wanted to lip-synch Milli Vanilli with her at the talent show. I did not. She liked to inflict pain, liked to boss, would do things like say, "Close your eyes" and then deliver a well-placed wallop, give you a broken toe, a bruise. She once shoved me under an end table and barricaded me in with pillows until I begged for mercy. She once publicly shamed me for calling a girl I was jealous of fat. I never did it again. She knew everything. She was terrifying and worth it. Did I mention that she had a Nintendo? The first Nintendo, with the gray plastic gun to play Duck Hunt. She was really good at Duck Hunt. I had to stand up really close to the green-on-green screen to hit anything.
We didn't know he was the head of the Campus Republicans at first. We were babydykes and bisexual witches and one straight girl who loved Jesus a lot but was still definitely a feminist. We, the Womyn's Center, organized tons of events, most of them around disproportionately "straight" issues, like abortion rights and sexual harassment. (What a bunch of dykes.) My girlfriend Marisa was the president of the Womyn's Center and constantly in trouble with the police. I was pretty sure I was Ani DiFranco and spent most of my time sewing patches on my clothes that said "Fuck Your Fascist Beauty Standards" and "My Daughter Is a Lesbian (at Your Daughter's Catholic School)." Whether it was said out loud or not, we were definitely, definitely sexually boycotting Republicans. After all, they were boycotting us. You know, us wanting rights and all.
The Womyn's Center held an abortion speak-out. It was a chance for women to publicly discuss what is usually a super-private experience. We all sat in a circle. Many of the women who spoke had come to terms with having an abortion. Some talked about being assaulted or about choosing college over child-raising. Some cried, most seemed really strong and at peace with their decision. Men were welcome to come, but only two did. One was a supportive boyfriend, but the other one had a button-up shirt and a horsey face. He sat in that circle with us. And smirked. He smirked through the entire thing. When one woman would be choking back tears, he'd be faux-choking. He nearly laughed out loud several times. I wonder if he knew it would have been braver to actually say what he was thinking. Or braver still to actually listen. We subsequently made most of our events "women only," which raised the ire of some trans folks who felt wrongly targeted for exclusion. In our naive way, we were just trying to keep Smirky and his friends from winning.
My fantasies about the head of the Campus Republicans at NYU could have been violent. Instead, they were very tender. And ended with him having to face the very hard decision about what to do with his unwanted pregnancy.
Had big hair. Really, really big frosted hair. Had red, white, and blue elephant earrings the size of saucers hanging from her ears, and a husband with a bulging abdomen and a cowboy hat. She was headed to the stands (where Bush supporters could sit to watch the parade, and which, incidentally, remained virtually empty) but had to work her way through the thousands and thousands of anti-Bush protesters. "I can't believe it," she said, growing more and more beflusterpated. "They really just let ANYONE stand here. I can't believe that we're forced to walk through..."—a look of complete disgust cracked through her caked-on foundation—"them." Noooo, I wasn't attracted to her really. But I did picture her naked. How could you not? Owning a fur coat is the equivalent of wearing your own portable bearskin rug. I spit my gum into it.
Not her real name. But close. Had a horsey face. It actually kind of makes me barf to even think about it, but here it goes: I used to have sexual fantasies about Barbie McAllister. All the time. Barbie McAllister had rotten blond hair, a drunk mouth, and a perpetually idiotic expression on her face. We went to the same high school; she was the older sister of a friend, and she resurfaced in my life years later, in college in New York. She wore boat shoes and tight pink polo shirts and diamond earrings and basically looked like everything you would expect from a Republican-in-training and OH MY GOD, BARF, I JUST LOOKED HER UP ON FACEBOOK AND AHHAHAHAHA I CAN'T BELIEVE WHAT SHE IS DOING FOR A LIVING. AHHAHAAHAAHAAHAH. Okay. Ahem. Tight pink polo shirts and pearls. Referred to the Middle East as "The Sandbox." As in, "My husband's in The Sandbox for another three months [eye roll]." There's something erotic about conservative women like Barbie McAllister that I can't quite put my finger on.
Here's a stab: Hypocrisy is sexy. Conservative girls call other girls sluts and act shocked about everything and expound on their "morals" and get involved in church like it's their job and win awards for Christian Service and Model Behavior and whatnot, but they are secretly very, very, very, very, very, very sexually active. It's possible that all conservative women are bossy tops. (Sarah Palin, Ann Coulter—I'm looking at you. Very, very submissively.) Anyway, Barbie McAllister was very, very, very, very, very, very sexually active. And I'm pretty sure she was the only very, very, very, very, very, very sexually active person I had ever actually met at the time. (I met Lindsay Lohan much later.) Hence, myriad sexual fantasies about Barbie McAllister. Usually drunk, usually on a boat. Why do all conservatives own boats?
Gina Young is a writer, musician, and performer.