Torn

I remember being about 12 years old and one of my relatives telling a racist joke at a family gathering. At 12 years old, this made me uncomfortable and I said something along the lines of ‘you shouldn’t say things like that,’ to which I was told… “You’ll understand when you’re older.” Well here I am at 34… and I still don’t understand…

I don’t like hate. I don’t like prejudice or ignorance. As gay person I am forced to deal with these types of things on a regular basis, sadly even from within my own ‘family.’ Maybe facebook and social media are to blame. We have people in our lives with whom we have arm length relationships. Maybe we see them at family get togethers or the occasional obligatory social gathering. We chat about things from movies we’ve recently seen, to milestones the kids have recently experienced. With facebook though, those relationships are strained and stretched with the ability to see people’s likes, dislikes and opinions, regardless of their sensitivity … or lack their-of to you.

As a gay person when I see a relative or someone I care about ‘liking’ some ultra conservative page or picture, it tears at me. When they are pledging their support for the political candidate whose political platform is anti gay is tears at me. And when people who are supposed to be ‘family’ post things that are directed towards families like mine, it tears at me.

Recently a relative put up a post in support of Paula Dean. Now in my flaming liberal mind, this is already bad enough…but it went further. In the post this person dismissed any wrongdoing in her ever using the ‘n word’ and said something along the lines of ‘Who doesn’t use that word? I use it all the time when one of them pisses me off’… I’m paraphrasing but this was the gist of the post.

Now for those of you who don’t realize this, both of our children are mixed. They are though for intents and purposes African American based upon how this country distinguishes race. The person who made this post knows my children, knows their heritages and ‘loves’ them.

Bullshit.

This was about a month ago or so. My initial response was to unfriend them and just not talk to them anymore. If you follow me on facebook you might remember me dramatically saying something along the lines of “Disrespecting me is one thing but disrespect my children … and you’re dead to me.” Everyone asked what that was all about and I didn’t feel like talking about it at the time… well, this was it.

Did they really think that I wasn’t going to have a reaction to this?? Did they really think it’s acceptable to claim to love my children and put something like that into the world? They did not think… seems to be the most obvious answer.

An Uncle of mine who I know to be homophobic told me when I was 16/17 (when I came out) that he didn’t have a problem with me being gay, because I was family. As if to say if I wasn’t his family that I’d just be another faggot in the world to disgust him…

You cannot hate people of any particular group and then essentially tell a member of that group… ‘Don’t worry… you’re the exception.’  

This is not an acceptable way of being…. Nor is it acceptable to tolerate. So I won't.

So here I sit… Thinking about my family, and knowing that at least my immediate family, those who I care about most are with us and truly love us unconditionally. When I think though, of having to cut ties with Aunts, Uncles, Cousins… who just don’t get it… it tears at me.

My wise (and pretty awesome) brother recently sad to me ‘You can’t pick your family’… which is essentially true… but when backed into a corner, maybe it’s time to reexamine that theory. What is family, afterall?

 

Sticks and Stones

The interesting thing about Facebook (and social networking sites in general) is that absolutely anyone can partake. There is not litmus test for courtesy, decency or even common sense. So, it shouldn’t surprise me when people act like trash and speak to perfect strangers with hate and disdain. You might want to sit down for this… but… I am gay. I am active on dozens of pages that are related to gay rights, gay families and the like. It never ceases to amaze me when people who disagree with who we are come to those pages looking for a fight. Usually it doesn’t faze me. Usually I just ignore it. But sometimes I remember how easy it is to track someone down in real life and suddenly I am 17 again, afraid to open my high school locker because I didn’t feel like reading my daily death threat. Mind you, this occasional fear isn’t going to stop me from existing, or from being the big mouth queer that these douchebags think I am… But I’d be lying if I didn’t acknowledge the occasional lump in my throat when in the midst of a battle with some Alpha dog, faux Christian scumbag. But I am getting off topic. What really fascinates me is how much hate some of these cretins spew while also having so much of their own personal information immediately accessible to the world. Often times when I am in one of these battles of the minds (or mindless as the case may be) I will take a look at some of these peoples personal pages… which are often totally viewable to the public. There sits their full contact information, employment information and a handy dandy list of all of their family members. Do people not realize that the things you post on social networking sites can affect you in real life? For instance if you choose to post your employer, you can definitely be held accountable for your actions online by said employer, should they be notified that you are involved in harassing or abusive behavior, particularly behavior that is targeting a protected group. Of course the greater question is… Why can’t people just leave others’ alone? I see people on my very friends list who do or say things that I am repulsed by and I don’t sit there and attack. Of course the occasional passive aggressive post is kind of expected of me at this point. When I have someone in front of me and I am angry. I usually (before going into attack mode) will pause for a couple seconds to ask myself… Is this really something I want to say (because let’s face it, we all say things in the heat of the moment, myself especially). Maybe there should be a button on Facebook that scores the bitchiness of your comment and requires a 30 second ‘catch your breath’ period before you can hit “submit.” I am kidding of course, although maybe it’s really not such a bad idea after all. The bottom line I suppose is that there will always be ‘internet tough guys’ out there. Maybe it’s moreso about how to deal with them. Maybe when you call me a queer and tell me that I am going to burn in hell I should just ignore you… Sadly for you though, I’m the kind of queer that will talk to your Grandma and have a conversation with your boss. My bad…

A day in the life

Sometime I really just want to eat my omelette... As my husband Ron and I walk I to our local hole in the wall diner we're greeted by the colorful waitresses that have come to know us by name... "Mike and Ron are here with the babies" one of them shouts. A flock of former big haired teenage jersey girls turned middle aged waitresses burst into action making sure that one of our regular two tables are clean and that they grab us the best 2 high hairs that the place has. Our children Eleanor (Ellie 18 months) and Jeremy (12 months) have been relatively calm this morning which anyone who has 2 toddlers in their home can tell you is a rare occurrence. We place out orders; a small order of pancakes for the kids to share, corn beef hash from Ron, and for me, while I'd like to tell you it was egg whites and wheat toast, it's usually more often a bacon omelette with the best deep fried homefries known to man. (Don't judge me!) While sipping our respective hot tea and coffee the waitress take turns hovering around us; usually starting one by one and then taking turns in different couplings to discuss how cute the kids are, what a beautiful family we are and how wonderful adoption is. And of course those things are all very true. The previously calm kids are now worked up and restless just in time for the waitresses to disperse as our food comes. Jeremy is normally the calm one. He typically has the demeanor of a 70 year old Englishman. Ellie is our spitfire. If she wants your attention, you and everyone in a 4 block radius will know. She loves to be the center of attention and when that attention ends, it's not pretty. We're approaching one of those times in 3... 2... 1... For better or for worse once the waitresses have disbanded and pancakes have been cut and distributed and it appears as though we might get to enjoy a bite or two of our meal, the next shift of our fan club starts: the local moms. Most of the regular families that eat at the diner know each other, if not by name, at least by sight. One or two will wave to the kids and make bizarre although well meaning clicking noises. Some will just come on over and pay a visit. We'll hear about how they can't believe how bigs the kids are and about their 3rd... Or was it 4th cousin that lives in Texas who adopted from some third world country and then we'll be asked "where did y'all get them from?" (as if they are a pair of shoes). Given that I have a big mouth and will typically take any opportunity to educate people on proper adoption language I will usually give the condensed version of our families story, being sure to emphasize terms like 'birth mother' and 'placement'. By this time the kids are done their meal and are once again restless. I can't say I blame them, sitting in an old, uncushioned diner high hair with carb overload isn't exactly my idea of fun either. So we flag down the waitress, get our check and I pay while Ron repacks the diaper bag and puts everyone's coats on. We're offered boxes for our food and scolded for 'barely even touching our breakfast', But let's face it... Diner food is never good warmed up. We pile up into my once butch Ford Expedition whose back seat is now the home to about 15 or so Care Bears and as I put the truck into drive I turn to Ron and ask "what's for lunch?" I love that we are so accepted in our community. I know that a lot of you would kill for that acceptance. I also know that we have infact been graced with 2 beautiful children whom we love to show off and brag about. But sometimes... Not always, but maybe even just now and again, I'd really like to eat that omelette.