Lafayette explains that it's not Sookie they're afraid of, "honey child," it's what's between her legs. Sookie is once again scandalized, hilariously: "Lafayette. That's nasty talk, I won't listen to that!" Arlene laughs and asks if he's even aware of what's between a woman's legs, but he's being serious. And he should know, with his eye makeup and cargo kilt and all the prancing, because homophobia is really just misogyny using a different passport: "I know every man, whether straight, gay, or George motherfuckin' Bush, is terrified of the pussy." Sookie screams some more, but he's not wrong.
He's just not telling the whole story, which is exactly one lifetime long, about where we come from and where we're going and all the things we do to one another in the meantime. If somebody like Sookie were in town, the fear of her mind wouldn't be that different from fear of her body, because either way it involves extinguishment, lack of personal will, loss of control, topsy-turvy social order. The ego can't acknowledge the difference between sex and death because either way it's not in control, and the ego can't imagine situations where that's the case. Sex means no control, so all we do is try and control sex. Our bodies and everybody else's. Where the binary -- and Lafayette's little speech -- fall apart is that women come equipped with the same fear, because we all come from the same place, because no woman was ever born of man except Athena, and she was even worse about this stuff. Which is why women have historically signed on for the fact that if it's men making the rules, that means controlling women. Fear of pussy = fear of vampires = fear of Sookie = fear of Lafayette, and the story here is about the way we're stuck to our fears like magnets, attracted and repulsed, unable to see the world as it really is. So listen again, because Lafayette is saying, "Being afraid of sex is being afraid of life," and Sookie's saying right back: "STOP TALKING ABOUT SEX."