The great American celebration of colonialism, theft, genocide, and culturally sanctioned gluttony.
So, it's Thanksgiving break, which means I get to spend the week with my very large, very loving, very conservative family. It's Wednesday, I've been here since Saturday, and there've been two fails, so far.
Fail no.1 left me steaming a bit.
We were talking about what to wear on Thanksgiving day - to accommodate the inevitable food baby -, and I said I was wearing a dress. My dad, laughing, said, "That's it! I'll just wear a dress." To which my sister, with an expression of utter horror, immediately replied, "That's disgusting!"
Now, two weeks ago, a good friend I hadn't seen in a while came to stay with me. This friend happens to be a transvestite, and we spent a lot of time talking about some of the issues and discrimination he deals with. With this friend in mind, I snapped at my sister, "No, it's not."
My dad, in the kind of tone you use to tell someone how dumb they are, said, "Uh, yes, it is."
"One of my best friends wears dresses," I told him. "No. It's not."
He rolled his eyes and my sister scoffed, but, thankfully, that was the end of it.
Fail no.2 is related, if less overtly offensive.
I like wearing men's (or at least men's style) clothes. I don't identify as transvestite; I think of gender bending as part of the glam style, which is generally what I subscribe to. I've been wanting to get a well-fit suit to help fill out my wardrobe (which is partly this guy's fault, but that's another story), and I managed to find a great pair of trousers and matching vest at Dirt Cheap (which is actually the name of the store).
Later that day, I was talking with my mom and sister about the problems with finding pants that fit well. As you can guess after Fail no.1, I wasn't about to tell them that I got a men's suit, but I did mention that I found a pair of trousers that fit really well. My sister, immediately on the attack, demanded, "What do you mean, trousers?"
"Just, like, nice men's dress trousers."
She gave me a look like I'd just said I was wearing a purple velor leisure suit to Christmas. Actually, that probably would have just gotten a look of distaste; what she gave me was abject disgust, like the simple fact that I might wear something made for a man, however it actually looked on, was an affront to God and Jesus Christ.
These aren't major fails (You want major family fail? Ask about when I came out to my parents.), but it's a sensitive issue related to my friends and my personal identity. More to the point, it's illustrative of the reasons I don't like spending lots of time with my family.
I love them; that's not a point of contention. My parents are good, kind people, and I have the utmost admiration and respect for them. The problem is that everything I care about, everything that makes me who I am, they regard with disapproval or dismissal or even, as evidenced above, disgust.
I am queer. My parents are conservative Catholics.
I am a sociologist. My parents believe that poor people are lazy.
I am a feminist. My parents believe that gender is fixed, determined by biological sex, and comes with certain, innate roles and behaviors.
I am a vegetarian. My parents have trouble coming up with meals that don't center around a meat dish, and I'm not sure they've ever met another vegeatarian.
I am radically liberal, to the point of advocating the overthrow of the American government. My parents watch Fox News.
I love art and beautiful things. My parents appreciate art in the way that Oprah Book Club members appreciate books.
I dress outrageously. My has a closet full of black shoes and brown shoes and wears only neutral eye shadow, no liner.
I study fan culture and love stories. My dad thinks it's silly to cry watching TV.
In order to have a peaceful, drama-free family visit, I have to mute my entire personality. The only thing I insist upon is the absence of meat in my food, and even then I tolerate things that have been cooked or served with the rest of the family's meat entree. My family's relationship to food and my relationship to my food in my family is a complex subject and one for another time (maybe later in the week), but you get the idea. If I assert my opinions or attempt to defend myself, I am met with ridicule, anger, or contempt. If I choose to stand my ground and cause conflict, I'm called "dramatic" and told that I need to learn to compromise.
I love my family, and there is no doubt in my mind that they (my parents, at least) love me. Honestly, that's part of what makes it so difficult. I want my parents to be my friends, too. I want them to know who I am and to love and accept all of me. They don't have to like it; they don't have to understand it. I just want the home I grew up in to be a place I can feel comfortable. It never has been, and I doubt it ever will be.
I know a lot of people have it a lot worse. I don't mean to whine about how terrible my problems are. I'm tired, stressed out, not physically well, and feeling stifled. Mostly, I just want to hole up somewhere and listen to music, which is not currently an option.
You are my support network, interwebs. Support?
PS: Y'know the only other gay eskimo queer in the department? Yeah, he's a jerk.
Fail no.1 left me steaming a bit.
We were talking about what to wear on Thanksgiving day - to accommodate the inevitable food baby -, and I said I was wearing a dress. My dad, laughing, said, "That's it! I'll just wear a dress." To which my sister, with an expression of utter horror, immediately replied, "That's disgusting!"
Now, two weeks ago, a good friend I hadn't seen in a while came to stay with me. This friend happens to be a transvestite, and we spent a lot of time talking about some of the issues and discrimination he deals with. With this friend in mind, I snapped at my sister, "No, it's not."
My dad, in the kind of tone you use to tell someone how dumb they are, said, "Uh, yes, it is."
"One of my best friends wears dresses," I told him. "No. It's not."
He rolled his eyes and my sister scoffed, but, thankfully, that was the end of it.
Fail no.2 is related, if less overtly offensive.
I like wearing men's (or at least men's style) clothes. I don't identify as transvestite; I think of gender bending as part of the glam style, which is generally what I subscribe to. I've been wanting to get a well-fit suit to help fill out my wardrobe (which is partly this guy's fault, but that's another story), and I managed to find a great pair of trousers and matching vest at Dirt Cheap (which is actually the name of the store).
Later that day, I was talking with my mom and sister about the problems with finding pants that fit well. As you can guess after Fail no.1, I wasn't about to tell them that I got a men's suit, but I did mention that I found a pair of trousers that fit really well. My sister, immediately on the attack, demanded, "What do you mean, trousers?"
"Just, like, nice men's dress trousers."
She gave me a look like I'd just said I was wearing a purple velor leisure suit to Christmas. Actually, that probably would have just gotten a look of distaste; what she gave me was abject disgust, like the simple fact that I might wear something made for a man, however it actually looked on, was an affront to God and Jesus Christ.
These aren't major fails (You want major family fail? Ask about when I came out to my parents.), but it's a sensitive issue related to my friends and my personal identity. More to the point, it's illustrative of the reasons I don't like spending lots of time with my family.
I love them; that's not a point of contention. My parents are good, kind people, and I have the utmost admiration and respect for them. The problem is that everything I care about, everything that makes me who I am, they regard with disapproval or dismissal or even, as evidenced above, disgust.
I am queer. My parents are conservative Catholics.
I am a sociologist. My parents believe that poor people are lazy.
I am a feminist. My parents believe that gender is fixed, determined by biological sex, and comes with certain, innate roles and behaviors.
I am a vegetarian. My parents have trouble coming up with meals that don't center around a meat dish, and I'm not sure they've ever met another vegeatarian.
I am radically liberal, to the point of advocating the overthrow of the American government. My parents watch Fox News.
I love art and beautiful things. My parents appreciate art in the way that Oprah Book Club members appreciate books.
I dress outrageously. My has a closet full of black shoes and brown shoes and wears only neutral eye shadow, no liner.
I study fan culture and love stories. My dad thinks it's silly to cry watching TV.
In order to have a peaceful, drama-free family visit, I have to mute my entire personality. The only thing I insist upon is the absence of meat in my food, and even then I tolerate things that have been cooked or served with the rest of the family's meat entree. My family's relationship to food and my relationship to my food in my family is a complex subject and one for another time (maybe later in the week), but you get the idea. If I assert my opinions or attempt to defend myself, I am met with ridicule, anger, or contempt. If I choose to stand my ground and cause conflict, I'm called "dramatic" and told that I need to learn to compromise.
I love my family, and there is no doubt in my mind that they (my parents, at least) love me. Honestly, that's part of what makes it so difficult. I want my parents to be my friends, too. I want them to know who I am and to love and accept all of me. They don't have to like it; they don't have to understand it. I just want the home I grew up in to be a place I can feel comfortable. It never has been, and I doubt it ever will be.
I know a lot of people have it a lot worse. I don't mean to whine about how terrible my problems are. I'm tired, stressed out, not physically well, and feeling stifled. Mostly, I just want to hole up somewhere and listen to music, which is not currently an option.
You are my support network, interwebs. Support?
PS: Y'know the only other gay eskimo queer in the department? Yeah, he's a jerk.