I just finished watching The Laramie Project (movie version) with my mom, which prompted us to go into another conversation about my sexuality.
My mom is scared for me, and fear is a natural feeling for her to have for her daughter. We live in a small town, and I am queer. She is terrified for me, and wants me to be more quiet about it so as to not attract any more attention than necessary. Not because she doesn't love me and accept me, but because she is scared of the hate that she knows exists in the world.
She is scared that I don't understand the hate, and that I don't understand how the hate will wear on my soul.
I don't know how to tell her that she doesn't understand.
I can't live in the closet anymore, I can't protect myself with a lie. That is such an oxymoron. I would be trying to protect myself with a lie.
Living a lie wears on my soul, too.
Both actions grate away at my existence: if I hide who I am, I can not live with myself, but if i live who I am other people will hate me for it.
The thing is, if I am in the closet I am tortured and alone. If I am in the open, I will still be tortured, but there will be people who I can reach out to, people who will understand, accept, and share life with me.
I cannot torture myself alone anymore. I cannot live that lie.
For better of for worse, I will continue to live as I am, I will continue to be me, and I will refuse to let anyone else destroy my self image for it.
I do not choose to be queer. That is not a choice. My identity is not a choice. My choice is that I will no longer live in fear.
Showing posts with label sexuality. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sexuality. Show all posts
Sunday, January 2, 2011
Monday, December 20, 2010
Homophobic Grama
Well, I am officially never coming out to my grandparents.
Ever.
Things got a might bit awkward in here when the news of the progress on the DADT repeal started playing across the TV, the local news station informing us all that the only step left was ObamaLlama's signature. This was something I had already known, of course (I keep up on these things!), so I'm smiling like an idiot. I've been supporting this repeal whole-heartedly for months, and to see it be THISCLOSE is exciting, at the very least. Meanwhile my grandparents are getting more and more sullen, all unhappy at the TV and the knews it brings.
I was slightly obliviouse to their mood, and chattered about how the bill was so close, so close!
To which my grandmother sighed and said, "Yes, it's sad. It's going to make things so much harder on our men in our army."
Oh. Right. This is when I remember my grandmother is homophobic. Stupidly, I plow on with a, "Why?"
"Well, they don't need the gays in there sleeping in the same places as all the men."
The gays. I can hear the obviouse distaste in her voice while she uses such a catch all term. We continue the conversation, while I insist being gay doesn't make people automatic manwhores, she reveals that Norm (her husband, my step-papa, I guess) was come on to by a man when he was in the service. I don't even know how to respond to that, and let the conversation drop.
But now, I keep turning it over in my head, and I can't believe people let one encounter with a douche bag completely colour their perception of all members of a minority. That would be like me justifying racism by the fact I was mugged by a group of black teenagers.
This is disapointing. I'm disapointed in my family.
Keeping fingers crossed, ObamaLlama has to let this one through!
Ever.
Things got a might bit awkward in here when the news of the progress on the DADT repeal started playing across the TV, the local news station informing us all that the only step left was ObamaLlama's signature. This was something I had already known, of course (I keep up on these things!), so I'm smiling like an idiot. I've been supporting this repeal whole-heartedly for months, and to see it be THISCLOSE is exciting, at the very least. Meanwhile my grandparents are getting more and more sullen, all unhappy at the TV and the knews it brings.
I was slightly obliviouse to their mood, and chattered about how the bill was so close, so close!
To which my grandmother sighed and said, "Yes, it's sad. It's going to make things so much harder on our men in our army."
Oh. Right. This is when I remember my grandmother is homophobic. Stupidly, I plow on with a, "Why?"
"Well, they don't need the gays in there sleeping in the same places as all the men."
The gays. I can hear the obviouse distaste in her voice while she uses such a catch all term. We continue the conversation, while I insist being gay doesn't make people automatic manwhores, she reveals that Norm (her husband, my step-papa, I guess) was come on to by a man when he was in the service. I don't even know how to respond to that, and let the conversation drop.
But now, I keep turning it over in my head, and I can't believe people let one encounter with a douche bag completely colour their perception of all members of a minority. That would be like me justifying racism by the fact I was mugged by a group of black teenagers.
This is disapointing. I'm disapointed in my family.
Keeping fingers crossed, ObamaLlama has to let this one through!
Monday, November 15, 2010
Why do I have to choose?
We live in a day and age of growing acceptance for sexuality and the defying of gender roles.
That is, it's okay to be transexual.
It hasn't hit mainstream acceptance, and there are still towns where you can get your ass killed for being an open and out transexual. But the seed of acceptance has been sown, and there are communities where it's okay to be who you are.
There's a choice.
You can identify as male.
You can identify as female.
And people will still love you.
But identifying as male or female is labeling yourself. And for people who want that label, that's fine. But I have a hard time seeing why I have to choose. I'm bisexual. I'm female-by-birth, and a butch dyke. For me the lines separating gender feel very, very thin. I honestly couldn't care less if you are male or female, I will approach you the same way (both in terms of friendship and attraction).
I like being a girl. I like being able to dress up and do girly things.
I like being a guy. I enjoy going out with my butch haircut an a bound chest and being treated like a male. Because there is a difference, whether you believe it or not.
And, on a sexual level that transcends what you really want to know, I find the concept of strap-ons enticing.
Male. Female.
I don't want that label. I'm not a f-to-m transexual, of that I'm sure. I like my lady-bits where they are. But I hate that I have to just be female. I hate that androgyny is less acceptable than transexuality.
Why do I have to be one or the other? Why can't I just be me? Why do I have to choose?
That is, it's okay to be transexual.
It hasn't hit mainstream acceptance, and there are still towns where you can get your ass killed for being an open and out transexual. But the seed of acceptance has been sown, and there are communities where it's okay to be who you are.
There's a choice.
You can identify as male.
You can identify as female.
And people will still love you.
But identifying as male or female is labeling yourself. And for people who want that label, that's fine. But I have a hard time seeing why I have to choose. I'm bisexual. I'm female-by-birth, and a butch dyke. For me the lines separating gender feel very, very thin. I honestly couldn't care less if you are male or female, I will approach you the same way (both in terms of friendship and attraction).
I like being a girl. I like being able to dress up and do girly things.
I like being a guy. I enjoy going out with my butch haircut an a bound chest and being treated like a male. Because there is a difference, whether you believe it or not.
And, on a sexual level that transcends what you really want to know, I find the concept of strap-ons enticing.
Male. Female.
I don't want that label. I'm not a f-to-m transexual, of that I'm sure. I like my lady-bits where they are. But I hate that I have to just be female. I hate that androgyny is less acceptable than transexuality.
Why do I have to be one or the other? Why can't I just be me? Why do I have to choose?
Monday, January 25, 2010
Welcome to the Closet
Well, so. As I'm sure all my friends who read this know, I'm bisexual. I find hot guys and girls equally attractive.
Most of my life I've lived firmly and conclusively in the closet, due to many family members and close friends being conservative Christian. I live in a relatively small town where it is still acceptable to publicly harass the GLBT community. Even though I've known friends openly out of their closet, I didn't have the courage to come out of mine. Even my close friend who "always knows" didn't pick me up on her gaydar.
Then one day my mother decided to ask me if I was gay. While I was trapped in the car for an hour long drive to my Grandfathers house. I suck at lying.
Since then I've been sort of in, sort of out. Kind of like I'm still in the closet, but I left the doors open. If some one asks I'll tell the truth, and I and very loudly Pro GLBT rights.
Although, at the same time, I am hiding my sexuality from my grandparents and my Dad's side of the family. They do not need to know. That, and I told my mother I'm "Confused". Which is a bold faced lie. I used to be confused, back in middle school. Now I'm completely sure, and not ashamed. I was just worried my mother would throw a fit.
Which brings about another thing. What on earth is so "Bad" about homosexuality, anyways? It always bugs me that people are like, "IT'S FROM THE DEVIIIIL!". I don't get it. I mean, I could understand them not liking getting hit on. And I could understand them not liking the large amount of sex-before-marriage, as we can't get married. But how can you fault some one for the simple, intuitive act of loving some one? How can you hate love?
Most of my life I've lived firmly and conclusively in the closet, due to many family members and close friends being conservative Christian. I live in a relatively small town where it is still acceptable to publicly harass the GLBT community. Even though I've known friends openly out of their closet, I didn't have the courage to come out of mine. Even my close friend who "always knows" didn't pick me up on her gaydar.
Then one day my mother decided to ask me if I was gay. While I was trapped in the car for an hour long drive to my Grandfathers house. I suck at lying.
Since then I've been sort of in, sort of out. Kind of like I'm still in the closet, but I left the doors open. If some one asks I'll tell the truth, and I and very loudly Pro GLBT rights.
Although, at the same time, I am hiding my sexuality from my grandparents and my Dad's side of the family. They do not need to know. That, and I told my mother I'm "Confused". Which is a bold faced lie. I used to be confused, back in middle school. Now I'm completely sure, and not ashamed. I was just worried my mother would throw a fit.
Which brings about another thing. What on earth is so "Bad" about homosexuality, anyways? It always bugs me that people are like, "IT'S FROM THE DEVIIIIL!". I don't get it. I mean, I could understand them not liking getting hit on. And I could understand them not liking the large amount of sex-before-marriage, as we can't get married. But how can you fault some one for the simple, intuitive act of loving some one? How can you hate love?
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