The Interim

What follows is a ramble.

DOMA is dead and Prop 8 fallen. Forgive me for a lack of proclamations about the battle now ending. I've known it has been for a long time. This is just one more (wonderful, wonderful) step on the way.

In the time since I last posted, I came out to my roommate who was ecstatic (and this is why I love him). I came out to my friends at college. No one minds, and one of those with a religious opposition listened. He heard my biblical arguments (more or less the teachings of Matthew Vines). He has not given a yea or nay, but he listened. he considered. For that, I thank him. Remember him. He's important. We'll call him Henry. He's likely a player in my very next post.

April 1st, 2013, I came out to my parents. I sent an email with a dozen attachments. Included were a handful of letters written by friends. My parents survived. They took it better than could be hoped. I live with them yet. I think they avoid the topic, though. My mother is still, I think, hurt by this and she would likely count it among her greatest sorrows. But she doesn't blame me. My father shows no disappointment. He only worries about my health. Not in an AIDS way; they know I'm staunchly against premarital sex. But he fears I'll be hurt by someone in a homophobic assault. So he's exactly what I think he ought to be. I probably need a little fear.

I came out officially to two friends who always suspected just at the start of the month. One of them had just graduated high school, and she had her graduation party. I was one of three who stayed very late to play board games (we have a thing for Monopoly). After Monopoly, we played Life. I took a second blue piece when I got married. Which is elegant, I think. Simply elegant.

I've also helped at Vacation Bible School again. I believe that the only workers at that church who know of my sexuality are my parents who teach there and an old, semi-retired pastor whom my father has looked to for guidance. I don't think they'd ask me back if they knew. To protect the children or something. Even though I haven't had the opportunity to teach them some gay agenda. The worst I've done is queering the roles when I have the kids act out Bible stories. But that has reason too. Almost everyone we talk about is male. If a little girl wants to act, she can play Ezekiel. I don't mind. Neither does she (though problems arose when I had a male widow with a female son).

But hey, down with the gender binary.

Willful Ignorance?

I was at my college this week to sign up for my first classes. Now, in typical college fashion, this was turned into a day-long event, complete with two meals, four presentations (for the students. Parents had about six of their own), and an activities fair. The fair was set up at the end, and we (students) passed by it on the way to our final meeting. The first table to my left bled rainbows.

We walked by.

When we got to the next room, however, the previous session was still going on. We waited outside for about ten minutes, and since the other group showed no signs of stopping, I thought I'd go down and try to sneak away some literature from the display. It wouldn't be hard, I reasoned. Whoever was manning that booth would surely understand that some people need secrecy and wouldn't make a scene by trying to call me back. I was just entering the crowded fair area when I saw familiar faces.

Of course my parents would be there. And they saw me (thankfully before I had even turned towards the rainbows) and came to talk. My mother had been worrying, in typical mother fashion, about if I would get a good room and roommate and if there would be parties on my floor and how likely it was that my roommate would stab me in my sleep, and so had asked questions of the Housing Booth.

She explained how everything would work out (as I'd assured her), and mentioned that the my roommate wouldn't be drinking. My father chimed in to explain that the university matched roommates on the profiles we filled out, concentrating on alcohol consumption, tobacco use, and "LGBLMNOP or whatever".

Having never imagined my father even attempting to LGBTQ, much less during a secret excursion of mine to obtain materials on said topic, I was dumbfounded into saying "What?"

"LGwhateverQ friendliness," my mom supplied. "What did you put down?"

There are moments when you feel certain that everything might be about to fall apart. This was one of mine. I delayed for an extra two seconds by saying "No drinking, no smoking."

Then, "Friendly."

Half of me was shocked that my parents did not then (or anytime later) accuse me of the truth because I was LGBTQ-friendly. The other half was shocked that they weren't suddenly afeared tha' sum dirty homosekshul was gon' rape me. They responded with nods. Merely nods. And then my dad asked me what the Q was for in LGBTQ.

I answered, and he asked how that was different from LGB or T. I explained. Though he seemed skeptical of the existence of Queer folk outside of LGBT, he accepted my answer without questioning how I knew. Which brings me to my point.

I only know all of this because I'm gay. My interest in the topic has led to my explorations that have taught me so much. There is no way I would have just happened to learn this in everyday life. That doesn't happen in Conservative Christian County. Beyond my knowledge, I am a musical theatre nerd, I practically worship Gaga (with a clear love for her Born This Way message), I watch Glee religiously, I reference how in love I am with both male and female stars, I've insinuated that the world would be a better place were same-sex marriage legal, and I've said to my mother's face at least that I hold gender to be a societal construction. Straight men can do any or all of those things. But they all smack of the Gay.

Do my parents really not know?

Are they in a state of willful ignorance because they don't want to bear the truth? Are they ensconced in some belief that no good Christian turns gay? Are they waiting for me to tell them? Do they think it's an attention-getter, or that I'm participating in that stupid act-gay ritual to prove I'm straight thing that they do now?

Do they just not see it?




Note: Acting in any way does not and should not imply homosexuality. However, there tends to be correlation, and for someone like me, all signs point towards fabulous. Stereotypes are not necessarily true, but all stereotypes are true sometimes.