caught up in a relation of being different, e.g. of
not being ‘like other women’, of not being placed
in a complementary opposition of man–woman,
of being out of place. To an extent, they may
make that space their own, but they are doing so
across history and ideology. As Gill Valentine
has clearly argued, ‘As a result of this expression
and representation of heterosexual relations in
space, heterosexuals as a group are allowed to
appropriate and take up space’ (1993: 410).
It is hard to overemphasize the historical
weight that the ideology of heterosexuality has
had on defining space. However, we can also
think about how straight men and women inhabit
space that has been made queer. As David Bell
has pointed out, geography and cultural theory
were slow to get beyond the gender distinctions
and ‘recognise that different (and especially
“non-conforming”) men and women have differ-
ent relations with space and that one element that
conditions this is sexuality’ (1991: 327). The
queering of space has a complexity and a history
as dense as those gendered masculine or femi-
nine. For instance, many have credited the riots
that took place at the Stonewall bar as the begin-
ning of a modern gay movement. It may be an
overly large claim, but Stonewall is interesting.
The bar in New York’s Greenwich Village was
home to drag queen shows. In 1969 the police
raided it, as they often did in regard to gay spaces.
The riots that ensued were fuelled by courageous
individuals who refused to hide their sexual pref-
erences. Now all over the world there are bars
named in Stonewall’s honour. In terms of outing
subjectivity, we can understand how brave those
early protesters were. We also need to recognize
the ways in which past practices become imbri-
cated within present subjectivities. This example
also gestures to the ways in which there may be
common elements that are replayed in their con-
textual and temporal specificity. In this manner,
they are continually rearticulated both as a
ground of individual subjectivity and as a mode
of linkage between and amongst individuals.
If gays and lesbians have been made to hide
their sexual desires, a significant aspect of their
subjectivities was constructed ‘in the closet’. Eve
Kosofsky Sedgwick has eloquently argued that
the figure of the closet is central to western
society’s construction of knowledge and secrecy.
From the end of the nineteenth century, we begin
to see a new way of understanding and cate-
gorizing individuals:What wasnew from the turn of the century was the
world-mapping by which every given person, just as he
or she was necessarily assignable to a male or a female
gender, was now considered necessarily assignable aswell to a homo- or a hetero-sexuality, a binarized
identity that was full of implications, however confus-
ing, for even the ostensibly least sexual aspects of
personal existence. (1990: 2)The closet is an interesting spatial expression,
although it allows for only two options: in or out.
Moreover, as Sedgwick’s argument indicates, as
a figure it mandates that we be either homo- or
heterosexual. In terms of Althusser’s theory of
interpellation, we can appreciate the sheer effort
of continually deflecting our culture’s ideology
of heterosexuality. In de Lauretis’ terms, to be
queer is to construct yourself in the space-off of
our society. As an ideological current, hetero-
sexuality or heteronormativity pervades all aspects
of life. It is also central to the apparatuses of the
family, education, religion, the law, the media, to
name but a few. Of course none of our subjectiv-
ities is constituted solely in regard to one factor.
We are never only women or men, straight or
queer. Our subjectivities are always situated at
the nexus of gender and sexuality as well as
class, ethnicity, social position, etc. And at each
point we are faced with a complex set of bina-
ries: are you a girl or a boy? Are you normal or
queer? If you’re not white, are you black?
Recently there have been interesting instances
of straights inhabiting queer space. Of course
this tends to be the case in urban and trendy
places – the bars that line queer cores of cities
and that sport signs with pink triangles declaring
‘safe space here’. These relatively new queer
spaces are therefore not the mainstream spaces
of the family or the church. They are the result of
manoeuvres and strategies. In some cases, parts
of cities are claimed by queers and then become
part of a generalized gentrification, quite often of
inner city and previously working-class areas.
They also attract commercial venues like cafés,
delis, bars and clubs. In a gradual process, these
areas become appealing to what might be called
‘gay friendly’ straights, normally a young and
more adventurous set. In time however they
become ‘normalized’, and they cease to be seen
as only gay.
This for instance has happened in Sydney’s
downtown queer core of Darlinghurst which is
now one of the premier sites for restaurants, bars
and clubs. However during the Sydney Lesbian
and Gay Mardi Gras the streets are closed for the
huge parade of fabulous floats. At that moment,
the ‘gayness’ of the space is highlighted, and
hundreds of thousands of straights come to look.
While there is a definite queer feel to the area,
straight women now frequently habituate the gay
bars of Oxford Street which runs the length of
the queer strip. As Beverley Skeggs’ (1999)THE SPATIAL IMPERATIVE OF SUBJECTIVITY 2953029-ch14.qxd 03-10-02 10:54 AM Page 295