A Personal Experience: Untold Desires, a film about disabled peoples' sexuality

By Fiona Strahan

Sometime around 1994, I was approached by a couple of filmmakers who were making a film about disability and sexuality. They had found me through a friend who knew I had just written a master's research proposal on this same topic.

At first I thought it might be possible to do a "I'll show you mine (proposal) if you show me yours," but it was more like we'd like to see yours, but ours is private. For a while I was unsure about participating and probably quite protective of my own work.

The thought of able-bodied people doing a film about us and our sexuality had a "risky at the best" and "ominous at the worst" ring to it.

Except in exceptional circumstances when disabled people are interviewed about personal and political stuff, we are often simultaneously answering and educating the interviewer ,the camera person and, hopefully, the editor.

Having been desperate for our own filmmakers, and with no with funding on the horizon, I fobbed these filmmakers off for a bit. Then after some encouragement (pressure) from friends who said things like "this is a great opportunity to say stuff you know and think," or "if you aren't in it then you can't complain if they do a shonky job of it, can you?" I thought about it more seriously again and said yes. So I began with the filmmakers the conversations required prior to being interviewed. These took place at my home, then there was one filming session in the studio and another at home. The one in the studio was easier as I was talking and being filmed, at home I was just being filmed, for my voice to be played over. I felt less relaxed as I was both directed and followed about.

The filmmakers wanted to have a diverse representation of disabled women, but they had very little luck getting any high-profile disabled lesbians to come out on camera-which is hardly surprising given the nature and prevalence of homophobia.

When they realised through our conversations that I had previously identified as a lesbian they wanted me to talk about this on camera, so they could have a high-profile disabled woman who previously identified as lesbian! They were very, very eager for this. I was hesitant for a couple of reasons: firstly, I felt that saying on camera, "I'm someone who used to identify as a lesbian" was not a good representation of me and not actually helpful to the cause. It was not a phase. I didn't feel like an ex-lesbian. But I felt very responsible for what I represented and how that could be interpreted. I was very serious. In the 1990s, in my neck of the woods, there was little sense of sexual diversity and/or fluidity. One was either straight or gay. Bisexuality was seen as undecided.

I felt saying, "ooh, right, I used to identify as a lesbian," wasn't a good enough representation of me. I got very tangled up. For me, my sexuality was and is far more intricate and weaved with political, emotional, community and all kinds of other stuff. It wasn't an either or. But the filmmakers had a category to fill and, for a bit, I was the closest fit. And this wasn't a film analysing the construction of sexuality, it was showing that we had some!

On the other hand, I had some lesbian friends telling me I had to come out on camera for the cause! Perhaps it was safer for a someone who used to identify come out than someone who currently identified as a lesbian.

I did end up talking about having relationships with women and felt fine and it came across well in terms of our diversity. In the end it was just me speaking, being me freely and without any pressure or sense of responsibility and no doubt the filmmakers were pleased. Though later they did also manage to find a disabled lesbian willing to come out on the film.

I didn't feel that the filmmakers didn't have a strong sense of the nature of oppression and discrimination, but they seemed to have little awareness of the possible consequences that may arise for people talking so personally in a documentary.

Finally, before I went on camera, I was in the dressing room having the make-up put on and my hair "done." I commented on the amount of make-up, something I don't do a lot of. The make-up artist retorted "well, for this film we have to do our best with you lot."

There was a part of me ready to run screaming from the building.

Public-ness

The other side of agreeing to be in a doco (documentary) is living with the representation of oneself and others' interpretation of that. We may hope others gain certain insight or understanding, but it is something which we have no power over.

I live in a small country town. I was standing in our supermarket starring blankly into a row of shelves waiting for inspiration when I heard this whispering voice "hey movie star...hey you, movie star." At the time I was probably trying to work out whether to get chopped tinned tomatoes or crushed tinned tomatoes. The whispering got louder, I turned and realised they were talking to me. I didn't know the person but she now knew me. She said she thought Untold Desires was great. I thanked her (probably blushed) and returned to the great tomato decision.

Another time, as I wandered up the main shopping street, a Volvo station wagon further up stopped suddenly, reversed down the street to be level with me, the passenger window rolled down and the driver yelled out, "you were fabulous!" then screeched off!

In the film I talk about the first time I went into a sex shop. It is a great tale (I won't tell you now, you have to see the film). The first time the film was shown I was in Sydney visiting my parents. They had rung all their friends and told them proudly that their eldest daughter was on this ground-breaking doco. I sat awkwardly with them on the couch, watching them watch me as I also watched myself.

It was the sex shop story that I think I was most aware of. There is something odd when you know your parents know you do sex. But watching them watch you tell the world a whole lot of stuff about sex for the greater good of the community and disabled people is weird. Anyway, they handled it with aplomb, they thought it was great. However, one second-cousin had a different reaction: she was watching it with her mother and when she saw how frank I was being about relationships with women she quickly turned it off!! Protecting who one might ask?

There is one scene of the film which always felt a bit odd. It is at my home where I am throwing sticks for my dog into our dam. Advice to anyone: Don't appear in a doco about sex playing with your dog. A friend says when she first saw it she wondered about the dog's "prominent" role and was relieved to see that it was not connected. I think the filmmakers wanted me to be seen doing something--anything--though my dog did receive some celebrity status with our local vet.

Would I do it again? Not now, not on this topic, but I'd certainly make a film about something else.

Am I glad I participated? Yes I think so, in the long run. All up, the film is great and has worn well. It has won lots of human rights awards and gets played on a regular basis. My brother-in-law saw it on cable in the middle of the night in Denver last year, so it gets around.

Advice if someone comes calling and invites you to talk about sex to the camera? You don't have to tell everyone everything. I didn't. Forget the greater cause when you make the decision about participating. I got myself into an incredible tangle trying to "do the right thing," it has to be something you do for yourself first. It should never come from some sort of debt. Do it because you want to. Because you'd kick yourself if you didn't. Keep some stuff to your self. I did. Think of who might be the audience. But be prepared to be public property for a while. And that some people might give you crap, too.