Have you ever been on a date where everything is going well until it isn’t? Something changes, and suddenly, like a switch has been flipped, all the initial attraction fades away, leaving only a vague feeling of disgust in its wake. The famous ‘ick‘. If we all think back on why we turned down second dates or tried to weasel out of firsts as quickly as possible, we’d probably come up with quite a diverse list of reasons. 

‘He chewed with his mouth open.’

‘Her nails were too long, and she kept picking at them.’

‘They wanted to split the bill…we ordered coffee…’

By all accounts, these are innocuous things, and yet they have devastating consequences for fledgling or even full-fledged relationships. And while reasons differ in their details, the essence of the ick is a feeling of revulsion and disgust tied inextricably to our latent preferences.

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What happens, however, when the ick factor goes beyond the realm of the straight and enters the realm of queerness and queer politics? The 1998 paper titled, “The Ick Factor: Flesh, Fluids, and Cross-Gender Revulsion,” examines the cross-gender revulsion experienced by gay men and lesbian women about each other’s bodies as sexual entities. The author, Eric Rofes, a gay man, tries to explain and explore his experience of the ick as best as he can. Rofes is brutally honest in his expression, and his honesty begets an examination of why members of a community whose sexuality is often denied by society might internally reject each other as well. Of course, this is not a universal experience. Not all gay men or lesbian women experience the ick when confronted with the other’s sexual practices and cultures, but it is fascinating to think about why some might. 

Now, one’s sexuality, by virtue of being selective (usually), is tied heavily to the concepts of preference or taste – affirming certain inevitable differences amongst individuals. These differences can also be defined as the negation of positive feelings towards something or someone i.e., tastes can also come through as feelings of visceral intolerance, along with strong preference(s). 

What does this mean for cross-gender revulsion? Is it natural for people to look at each other’s bodies and not feel attraction, but instead experience a lack of attraction as disgust? I don’t think so, and neither does Rofes. While the paper itself is unable to come up with concrete reasons behind the feelings of revulsion experienced by both lesbian and gay people, it does a great job of acknowledging the internal thought process of individuals and their hypocrisy. 

When it comes to women’s bodies specifically, both amongst queer and straight men, there is a tendency to de-sexualise and hyper-sexualise them, simultaneously. This is evident in the contradictory expectations governing what is considered acceptable behaviour by women and the language used to talk about it. Throughout his paper, Rofes highlights how his acceptance of lesbians was often concerning the feminist political culture and their display of non-sexual acts of intimacy like hugging, hand-holding, etc. The moment he was confronted with female promiscuity and overt displays of sexuality, Rofes was left scandalized and vaguely queasy. Incidents like this remain true even for some straight men today who, when faced with a labia, either refuse to engage or shame their partners.

Conversely, with regards to language, many queer men use terms like “pussy” and “cunt”  while having sex and yet feel disgusted when confronted with the reality of one. Pierre Bourdieu, one of the leading thinkers on the subject of disgust, asserts that “disgust is the paradoxical experience of enjoyment extorted by violence, an enjoyment which arouses horror.” Bourdieu reframes disgust as a mask for forbidden pleasures or delights, which the acquisition of a certain identity has severed. In this context, it somewhat explains why gay men might use these terms even when it seems contradictory.

Also read: Brown Butch Blues: On Masculinity and Butch Identity in Desi Queer Spaces

None of this, however, explains why one feels revulsion in the first place. Some lesbians, when asked, attributed their disgust with male genitalia, sperm, rimming, etc. to their experiences of childhood violence, rape, and incest. With regards to the gays, Rofes has two possible explanations. First, he draws on the historically proven power of disgust to create boundaries between populations. He suggests that the ick might be a way for gay men to build alliances, hierarchies, and communal classes based on gendered sexual orientation. The second is internalized misogyny. After all, just because you’re gay doesn’t mean you escaped the toxic narratives spun about women!

Regardless of the reason, this alternative take on the ick factor adds nuance to the conversation. While preferences and tastes are highly individual and should be respected, this paper challenges readers to question themselves and examine the hidden underbelly of said tastes. Moreover, in the modern context, it brings another dimension through which to view the innocent ick, which is often dismissed as nothing more than an innocuous rejection. So the next time you go on a date, watch a sexy movie or happen to walk past some couple lost in a passionate embrace, and you feel an inexplainable little something-something, queer and straight denizens of the world, take a second to think about why. Feel free to feel the ick, but don’t forget to question it too.