Of holding hands and making plans

This post all but bent my brain backwards. It was an absolutely fascinating read. It’s written by a gay, devout Mormon who is married to a woman. More than rethinking a traditional marriage, it made me rethink what it means to be gay, lesbian, or bisexual. Are you gay if, post puberty, you hold hands with someone of the same sex and they *aren’t* in danger of falling off a cliff? Are you gay if you, also post puberty, sleep in a bed with the someone of the same sex? Or are you gay simply because you’re sexually attracted to someone with the same equipment between their legs? If the first two are true, then slap my ass and call me a big ol’ lesbian. As for the third one, I’m of the opinion that *everyone* is more attractive with the addition of a fig leaf. 😉 

Back when I was first trying to figure out why I was self destructing, a male therapist I tried out asked me where I thought I fell on the Kinsey scale. It seemed like a completely out of left field question when I was in there for another issue. After I found a therapist I liked, she explained that survivors will often find a shift in their sexuality, either temporary or permanent, after their abuse. It could be eschewing everyone who is the same sex as your abuser. You could shut down completely and it doesn’t matter who is interested. It could be, as was my case, anything resembling a human being with a pulse was fair game. “Down there” was irrelevant. In the grand scheme of things, I did always lean more toward men than women even though my abuser was male.

Will was doing his level best to show his frat brothers that he wasn’t gay. I can’t remember if I’ve mentioned that before or not, but he caught a lot of flack from the house. I’m not 100% sure why. Nothing about him screamed “GAY!”. If I’m comparing him to my first boyfriend who did come out, he was a standard straight dude. Even though I could never prove it, he was asserting his masculinity by having a girlfriend who would dress in skimpy outfits and make out with other girls. I was his beard. It wouldn’t shock me at all if I found out he ultimately did identify as gay. There’s no value judgment there, just a statement. For all I know, I’m completely making this up in my head and it has absolutely no basis in reality. It’s just a gut feeling that has been hanging out there for a very long time. I could be looking for a reason when there isn’t one.

Tying into my last post about Robin Williams, my absolute favorite expression of love on film comes from The Birdcage. Nathan Lane’s character (Albert) has stormed off because their son doesn’t want him around when his fiancee’s uber conservative parents come to visit. Robin Williams’ character (Armand) goes after him and finds him at a bus stop. Without narrating the entire scene, Armand tells Albert that he wants to be buried next to him because Albert has always made him laugh and he wants to be able to laugh forever. He then presents Albert with a legal document making them equal partners in all aspects. I tear up every time I watch it. And it’s between two men. That, dear readers, is truly transcendent.


P.S. My dad’s second hip replacement went very well. He’s back home after less than 2 days. Cue a GIANT sigh of relief.


Of right, wrong, and everyone lowering their voices

Facebook & Twitter are exhausting. They’ve given way for everyone to scream about how they’re right and everyone else is wrong. Expressing an opinion about homosexuality and / or homophobia if you aren’t gay? You know nothing, so shut up. Not politically active or uninterested in politics? You’re ignorant and have no right to express an opinion. Feminism? There’s totally a right way to do it, you’re just doing it wrong. Forget trying to evolve or change your opinions with time. Something you said a decade ago will be dragged up just so someone can prove they’re “right”.

For example, I have zero interest in politics. All I know about current events is what Boy tells me or what I happen to catch on the TV at work. To some people, that makes me an ignorant cow. So be it. I’m not going to get hyped up over something because someone else thinks I should. If I don’t know what’s going on, I won’t vote. Conversely, I won’t bitch if I don’t agree with the current regime’s politics. I support everyone having the right to marry, regardless of what’s between your legs. That’s not my business, so I’ll just stay out of it. I love my friends and family dearly, but I don’t always support or agree with their beliefs or opinions. My dad’s side of the family are staunch Catholics. That’s not my scene. I have my beliefs, but certainly don’t impose them on anyone. I think doing porn is a bad idea, but if you’re willing to take the risk, have at it (if you will). I’m not the one who would have to explain to a prospective employer why they saw my ladybits displayed on the internet. The term “white privilege” is bandied about frequently on social media. Find me someone who chose to be born in a white middle or upper class family. Find me someone who chose to be born in a first world country, skin color or sexuality put completely aside. Puts a bit of a wrench in that, doesn’t it? Because I’m a white, middle class female, I’m somehow at fault (in certain people’s eyes) because I’m not deworming orphans in Somalia or marching over to Crimea to politely request the children stop fighting over who gets the last piece of land.

That’s the funny thing about right and wrong. Coming from a girl who lives in black and white, there’s never a right or wrong side for an opinion. No one has your unique combination of experiences, education, genetics, personality, or where and to whom you were born. No one will ever “get it” because they aren’t inside your head. You can stomp your foot and scream all day about why you’re right. That doesn’t make it true. If everyone just took 10 seconds to shut up and listen, you might hear a new idea. You might be exposed to something you never thought of.  You just have to be quiet first.  Next time, let’s try listening. Yes?