(no subject)
This is paraphrased. It's a line I heard on an Ivan Coyote CD, "Only Two Reasons," and when I heard it I thought, "...yeah. Exactly."
Ivan is in a car with four poets, all of them headed up to speak/do poetry at a high school in Surrey, Canada. Surrey, from what Ivan describes, is a bit like a butch-gay storyteller going to tell stories in a high school... in Alabama. Not a safe gay space.
The (straight) poets have a grand idea that, since the next day is Valentine's Day, they should tell love poems. Ivan is gay. Ivan explains that she can't tell a love poem in a high school in Surrey without it being a political statement. The poets, in an act of solidarity, say, "Hey, man, let's shake 'em up a bit! It's the kids in Surrey who need to hear it! We've got your back! Let's make a statement!"
And softly, Ivan says, "But... what if I just want to tell a love story?"
Every time I remember this line, I get a little teary. My family is made up of warriors, and I'm no different. It's a blessing in many ways, because I can activate that warrior on behalf of myself and stand up for things when I'm really quaking in my boots. It's good.
But sometimes my warrior gets tired. Sometimes I don't want to have to activate it. Sometimes I just want to share a story without worrying how people will take it, if they'll look at me differently, if the silence will become uncomfortable, if they won't call me back to work with their dog, if they'll discount my opinion based on their own opinions about gay people. Sometimes, I just want to tell a story.
About a year ago, I started making it a point to mention Quin. I did it, in part, because I was tired of people trying to set me up with boys. I did it, in part, because the more someone knows and likes a gay person, the less homophobic the world becomes. I did it, in part, because I like telling stories and I was leaving out a large part of my life.
Today, it's natural. I've become a lot less concerned about what stories I'm telling and how people might respond. I'm still keenly aware of it, though. And in bigger events, I stop and think about it.
When my cousin got married, I called Marste. "I want to bring Quin," I said. "But I know that side of the family wouldn't approve, and I don't want to turn the focus of the day from Erin. What do you think?"
I shouldn't have to worry about things like this. I wouldn't have given it a second thought if Quin were male. My love life is a political statement, and it gets exhausting.
I have nowhere to go with this. I just want to be able to talk about my life, like everyone else talks about their life.
**
When I started figuring out gender stuff, I started a new blog. I moved all my genderqueer/gay stuff over there, and talked about it there. I needed a safe space where I could question without making political statements. I didn't want to worry that I'd offend or annoy people here. I didn't want to worry that I'd get flack. It was the right decision at the time, because I needed that safety. Now, though, I can see it was also a fear-based decision that, in coming out and talking about it, I'd make those political-statements-that-are-my-life and I'd send people running. I don't mind losing the assholes, y'know? But I do mind losing wonderful people who simply don't have the time and energy to examine their own prejudices, who find it easier to just step away because they have so much else going on in their life that this one thing is not a priority. I can't blame people for that. I prioritize what I need to get over.
Anyway, while I won't take that blog down (I like the theme too much. *grins*), I think I'll start cross-posting here. It's time to blend the aspects of my life again, rather than keeping parts of my self separate. I don't think it's healthy for me, anymore, to keep it all separate.
J
Ivan is in a car with four poets, all of them headed up to speak/do poetry at a high school in Surrey, Canada. Surrey, from what Ivan describes, is a bit like a butch-gay storyteller going to tell stories in a high school... in Alabama. Not a safe gay space.
The (straight) poets have a grand idea that, since the next day is Valentine's Day, they should tell love poems. Ivan is gay. Ivan explains that she can't tell a love poem in a high school in Surrey without it being a political statement. The poets, in an act of solidarity, say, "Hey, man, let's shake 'em up a bit! It's the kids in Surrey who need to hear it! We've got your back! Let's make a statement!"
And softly, Ivan says, "But... what if I just want to tell a love story?"
Every time I remember this line, I get a little teary. My family is made up of warriors, and I'm no different. It's a blessing in many ways, because I can activate that warrior on behalf of myself and stand up for things when I'm really quaking in my boots. It's good.
But sometimes my warrior gets tired. Sometimes I don't want to have to activate it. Sometimes I just want to share a story without worrying how people will take it, if they'll look at me differently, if the silence will become uncomfortable, if they won't call me back to work with their dog, if they'll discount my opinion based on their own opinions about gay people. Sometimes, I just want to tell a story.
About a year ago, I started making it a point to mention Quin. I did it, in part, because I was tired of people trying to set me up with boys. I did it, in part, because the more someone knows and likes a gay person, the less homophobic the world becomes. I did it, in part, because I like telling stories and I was leaving out a large part of my life.
Today, it's natural. I've become a lot less concerned about what stories I'm telling and how people might respond. I'm still keenly aware of it, though. And in bigger events, I stop and think about it.
When my cousin got married, I called Marste. "I want to bring Quin," I said. "But I know that side of the family wouldn't approve, and I don't want to turn the focus of the day from Erin. What do you think?"
I shouldn't have to worry about things like this. I wouldn't have given it a second thought if Quin were male. My love life is a political statement, and it gets exhausting.
I have nowhere to go with this. I just want to be able to talk about my life, like everyone else talks about their life.
**
When I started figuring out gender stuff, I started a new blog. I moved all my genderqueer/gay stuff over there, and talked about it there. I needed a safe space where I could question without making political statements. I didn't want to worry that I'd offend or annoy people here. I didn't want to worry that I'd get flack. It was the right decision at the time, because I needed that safety. Now, though, I can see it was also a fear-based decision that, in coming out and talking about it, I'd make those political-statements-that-are-my-life and I'd send people running. I don't mind losing the assholes, y'know? But I do mind losing wonderful people who simply don't have the time and energy to examine their own prejudices, who find it easier to just step away because they have so much else going on in their life that this one thing is not a priority. I can't blame people for that. I prioritize what I need to get over.
Anyway, while I won't take that blog down (I like the theme too much. *grins*), I think I'll start cross-posting here. It's time to blend the aspects of my life again, rather than keeping parts of my self separate. I don't think it's healthy for me, anymore, to keep it all separate.
J