DancingSinging (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} dancingsinging) wrote,@ 2009-06-17 15:26:00 |
|
Shedding the illusion of heterosexual privilige
So much has been going on for me personally, much of it too private to put up on a blog. But I do want to share this one experience.
A little background--since I was about sixteen, it's been clear to me that I find women sexually attractive, as well as men. Around that same time, I decided I was going to marry my then-boyfriend, now-husband. It seemed very simple then--I like apples and I like oranges, but I don't need to eat them both to feel fruitfully fulfilled. And since monogamy seemed like the only possible option that could successfully sustain real intimacy and I already loved my guy so deeply, marrying him seemed obvious.
Sixteen years later, my perspective on intimacy is deepening and broadening, and while I'm still totally committed to my marriage, I don't see it as the only thing that might have worked any more. As a result (or perhaps as an inciting cause?) of this, my attraction to specific women has been feeling more important to me lately. I've also been resolving my feelings of not deserving a place in the queer community.
I was chanting about this (I'm a Nichiren Buddhist, so that's what I do when I'm working something out) and I started remembering some ugly harassment that a good friend of mine and her girlfriend went through in college. And then I thought of Matthew Shepard. And I thought of how what was inflicted on them was about the same thing that's in me, and that I should be in the line of fire as much as anyone. Then, I thought, but I'm just me, I'm the same as I always was, and there's nothing dangerous or threatening about me and my sexuality. No one should be hateful or violent or cruel to me.
And suddenly, it was crystal-clear, for the first time--all queer folk, we're all just us inside. I'm ashamed to say that I spent a long time kind of telling myself that those folks who choose to express their sexual orientation flamoyantly were partly responsible for the ill treatment they elicited, or if not responsible, then not in a position to complain. But of course, we're none of us doing anything other than the best we can do to be ourselves in a hostile and casually cruel culture.
I started crying, and I cry still every time I think or write about this. None of us should have to live with this. I know I have it easy--because of my looks and lifestyle, people assume that I'm straight and hand me straight privilige on a platter whether I want it or not. I can't imagine having it much easier than I do, as a femme-looking, married, white woman with an adorable little three-year-old. And still, it tmakes me feel sick and unsafe whenever someone makes a gay joke or denigrates butch gals.
I think what's happening for me personally is that I've stopped being so scared and worried about my own security, so I've opened my eyes a little to what's really happening to other people in the community. And I'm so sad and hurt for them, and so disappointed in my culture and larger community, which is not living up to what it could be. It's time for me to start doing something about it, and this post is my first little step.
So much has been going on for me personally, much of it too private to put up on a blog. But I do want to share this one experience.
A little background--since I was about sixteen, it's been clear to me that I find women sexually attractive, as well as men. Around that same time, I decided I was going to marry my then-boyfriend, now-husband. It seemed very simple then--I like apples and I like oranges, but I don't need to eat them both to feel fruitfully fulfilled. And since monogamy seemed like the only possible option that could successfully sustain real intimacy and I already loved my guy so deeply, marrying him seemed obvious.
Sixteen years later, my perspective on intimacy is deepening and broadening, and while I'm still totally committed to my marriage, I don't see it as the only thing that might have worked any more. As a result (or perhaps as an inciting cause?) of this, my attraction to specific women has been feeling more important to me lately. I've also been resolving my feelings of not deserving a place in the queer community.
I was chanting about this (I'm a Nichiren Buddhist, so that's what I do when I'm working something out) and I started remembering some ugly harassment that a good friend of mine and her girlfriend went through in college. And then I thought of Matthew Shepard. And I thought of how what was inflicted on them was about the same thing that's in me, and that I should be in the line of fire as much as anyone. Then, I thought, but I'm just me, I'm the same as I always was, and there's nothing dangerous or threatening about me and my sexuality. No one should be hateful or violent or cruel to me.
And suddenly, it was crystal-clear, for the first time--all queer folk, we're all just us inside. I'm ashamed to say that I spent a long time kind of telling myself that those folks who choose to express their sexual orientation flamoyantly were partly responsible for the ill treatment they elicited, or if not responsible, then not in a position to complain. But of course, we're none of us doing anything other than the best we can do to be ourselves in a hostile and casually cruel culture.
I started crying, and I cry still every time I think or write about this. None of us should have to live with this. I know I have it easy--because of my looks and lifestyle, people assume that I'm straight and hand me straight privilige on a platter whether I want it or not. I can't imagine having it much easier than I do, as a femme-looking, married, white woman with an adorable little three-year-old. And still, it tmakes me feel sick and unsafe whenever someone makes a gay joke or denigrates butch gals.
I think what's happening for me personally is that I've stopped being so scared and worried about my own security, so I've opened my eyes a little to what's really happening to other people in the community. And I'm so sad and hurt for them, and so disappointed in my culture and larger community, which is not living up to what it could be. It's time for me to start doing something about it, and this post is my first little step.
