Thinking of my Family

I am embarking on an exodus from the only home I’ve known for the past 27 years and I can’t express in words how excited I am!!! I have done the necessary work and learned the lessons needed to not be another home town statistic. I mean that when I leave home I want to be gone for good, only coming back for those good ole Southern meals during everyone’s favorite time of year. See, I consider myself a very spiritual person and I’m a firm believer in carefully tending to unresolved issues and the energy surrounding them before moving on to the next thing. And as such I have decided I need therapy! I got issues.

I know that once I move to my new home I will probably reside there, if not for the rest of my life or a good bit of it, which will at some point include marriage and children. Essentially, I will be laying down the foundation for a family of my own and subsequently creating an army of tiny humans in my image, which I plan to instill that foundation (God help us all!!!). In thinking of the foundation I want to provide my family with I have to first examine my own, and I can’t help but be saddened when faced with the ideal versus the reality.

  

The reality is, my gayness is an issue that caused me to alienate myself from my family. YES, I have done this to myself here’s why. But first, the back-story (per usual).

When people find out I'm gay one of the most common follow up questions is usually "How does your family feel about it?"  My first thought are usually a) that’s far outside your business and b) there's almost always no way to wiggle out of that without an outright lie because saying, "Oh, well I selectively mingle with them because trying to shrink aspects of my life to make someone else comfortable at nearly EVERY family function is like perpetual evisceration and I just choose not to subject myself to that.” may just be a little too much for the inquisitive stranger. 

Yeah it’s a bit dramatic and maybe even funny, but one thing that I’ve learned from being black in America is that sometimes all you have to survive the day is humor. And let me tell you over the years I’ve become quite the comedienne. When you don’t make time for (or can’t afford) regular therapy sessions with a qualified professional (that you know you need), you have to make do with what you have and what I have are my words. If you’ve read my last post then you know that I came out as a teenager and initially, like most newly out gays everything was about being gay. Of course as you grow older you grow out of that. Which I did, but because of that I missed out on important bonding moments which my family, like going to my aunts and mother about issues with girls, my first break heartbreak, you know, girl stuff all that jazz! Those moments eluded me on a technicality.

Eventually I figured ‘why not just not deal with them and do your own thing’ which is great in theory, but a different fish to fry during practical application. An ex who is now one of my best friends’ (Yes, it can happen!) mother once told me “FAMILY IS OPTIONAL” and those words have forever changed my life, those words actually saved my life (Thanks Ms. Lisa). They have morphed and come to mean so many different things over the years; because of those important words she will always be considered family to me. 

There were times where I felt like I didn’t have a family. I couldn’t talk about the things that mattered to me, because it seemed no one cared to know what was really going on in my life for fear that I might make the conversation gay at some point and they wanted no part of it. I went through the most traumatic experience of my life alone because I felt like my family would be disingenuous in their feelings about it, in hopes that I would possibly bring about some miraculous change in me. I truly felt alone and for a time turned to drugs and alcohol as a coping mechanism, and let me tell you, those two make for a SUPER shitty family!!!

‘Family is optional’ came to mean that you can pick and choose when to be family to someone so long as your ideals matched up.

I remember asking to bring my girlfriend to a family function not to parade her around or intentionally piss people off, but because I was bringing a stranger into someone’s home. I figured it was common courtesy especially if she was going to be eating some of that delicious food. However, the reply I received was somewhere along the lines of ‘Yeah, so long as there’s nothing funny going on’. I was completely turned off and although it had been forever since I had seen them, I chose not to go instead. I was floored! I couldn’t believe it because my family doesn’t play the radio, all of us girls were raised to be respectful and would never act inappropriately with anyone we were dating, so why then, was this the the stipulation for me wanting to bring ‘her’ around my family? They know me… I’ve never been one to act out in any way, let alone a romantic way especially around family.

I have family members that couldn’t even offer advice when I asked for it because the lesbian thing was just so hard to get past. And it was something I know ALL women have dealt with: trying to make a choice between suitors. Simple. How is it that this same situation became so foreign when I switched the gender? Is the situation not the same? 

This leads me to question why people think this is a choice, why would I do something that makes my family so uncomfortable or makes them feel like “I’m acting funny” or distant when I did distance myself.  It seems that our relationships go no deeper than my profession and chatter about other relatives. Whenever I’m around I find myself always on the listening end of conversations soaking in all the goings-on of their lives and the commentary on socioeconomic issues, knowing that if I were to utter a word most likely the atmosphere would change drastically. Many times I’ve distanced myself from my family simply because I’m uncomfortable, there’s this closeted-like shell I’ve created to operate in just so as to not offend anyone, but that only hurts me. I’ve done this to myself. But I have had help. 

One of the things black families do well unfortunately, is sweep things under the rug and I just don’t want to be another one of those things anymore, so they started sweeping and I got out of the way.

Now, my complaints aren’t describing my entire family, because I can think of some family members off hand that will actually engage in active convo about the things I have going on or the things they may not understand and that’s awesome! (And for that they get Dirtcakes… Oh yeah, dirtcakes!). They know that the fact that I’m not Christian won’t make them any less of a Christian by association, just like my lesbianism won’t make them anything less than straight by association. (And Kim if you’re reading this, you better believe that during the 10 year renewal, I WILL be there will bells, whistles, and comic books No Matter What!!!)

Now I understand that at some points your family does become optional so you can learn to become strong in your own voice and be strong in self, but this doesn’t mean that it won’t hurt and feel somewhat damaging for some. This is my therapy this is my way of releasing the hurts I’ve been carrying so that I can bury this in Tallahassee and sew fresh seeds into the ground I will call home. I will plant beautiful trees so that my children will come to know the forest within them and be strong in the family biosphere we create. And today I proclaim, my future will be different.

My children will be birthed into the world knowing true unconditional love. I vow to teach them how to be spiritually connected so that they don’t see organized religion as such acrimonious institutions but simply as the different vehicles that all lead to the same source. Whatever path they choose is their own, so long as they’re happy. My family will support each other with open hearts and tough love when needed. My family will embrace each other’s differences, learn from and continue to grow with each other.

Family is what you make it and I want my family to be a family, and come what may, there will be no option in that.

~Thoughts of a Future Matriarch

I am a W.H.O.R.E.

Are we the sum total of our experiences or are we more than that? Are we the perceptions of others? Walking, talking self-fulfilling prophecies? If life is what the individual makes it then why can a person’s entire life be based on a single moment? I’m pretty sure Monica Lewinsky is a sweet well-meaning woman who’s not afraid to do whatever she feels is going to get her to where she needs to be. I’m sure she is more than a stained dress and a presidential scandal. Right???

This is the dilemma that I am having. When I was a child before I was ever sexually active, my mother’s friends would always tell her to watch out for me because I was going to be a “fast lil girl”. Now I’m not sure where all of you are located upon reading this. But this term in my community meant that I was sure to be promiscuous and should  be under strict and constant supervision. This seems to have followed me my entire life; all because I happened to be a pretty LITTLE girl. I was becoming sexualized by other women before I even hit the double digits. And no one seemed to find fault in this, but that’s a topic for another post.

***Now as a quick side note, I do want to point out that all of those women that were talking about me are now veteran grandmothers, many of whom became so before I graduated high school. My mother is desperate for a grandchild at this point. Suck it  bitches!!!***

But back to me, my issue is being thought of as a whore; it really makes me cringe. It makes me very uncomfortable, yet I’ve at times worn it as a badge of honor. See although there is a stigma about being a whore, being thought of or known as a heterosexual whore is still in some cases more accepted than being a vanilla bean lesbian. But that too, is a topic for another post.

First some back story. I, for most of my life, went to a predominantly black school and given how society sexualizes little black girls in addition to a constant surge of hormones, sex was always the topic of discussion and if it wasn’t, it was about the things we could do so that it would be. While the middle school girls were busy being boy crazy, I was trying to figure out how and why I wasn’t and still a virgin; it seemed like the uncool thing to be. So to be cool I did what any self-respecting pre-teen would do to fit in with the other middle school kids; I lied. If someone came to me with a fabricated story about me that sounded way better than real life at the time, you could most certainly bet that I would own it. And some of these stories were nothing short of amazing! I kept this up for quite a bit not realizing the damage it would hold for me when I got older, and did become sexually active. But what did I care, I was banking on never seeing these people again. Oh to be young again!

Then the day came and I finally found the word gay and realized that was totally who I was and then shit got real. There was a whole new level of fear associated with me being ‘outted’ and the way news traveled around that small K-12 school campus, if certain people knew something the entire campus and administration knew as well. It was a no-brainer for me that this could never, under any circumstance happen. I found a group of friends that happened to share my story of living a closeted childhood life and found a sense of community among these girls and we had a mutual understanding. A blood oath among teenagers: You tell anyone and you’re dead!

I finally came out and the real struggle began. How do I reconcile these sexual encounters without being considered a whore? How can I enjoy the fruits of my new found sexuality and remain chaste in public opinion. Well, I lost my virginity to a girl (oh yes it can happen), one of the most terrifyingly euphoric experiences of my life... and then there was the guilt. "Does this make me a whore, now?" I could've put a Catholic to shame.

For years, I reconciled this notion with deciding to only engage in sexual acts with people that I was in a relationship with or close friends that I knew I could trust. But one thing was becoming apparent that I didn’t count on, I really enjoyed sex. No REALLY, damn near the point of insatiability, but I digress. How was I going to have lots of sex but keep my goodies to myself and not be the fast girl my mother was warned about. Alas another solution, I became a serial monogamous! I couldn’t be alone because that meant being subject to the scrutiny of whoredom. I wasn’t that strong yet. I needed relationships to keep me pure, to add substance to the fact that I was a woman that actually enjoyed sex. “Yes ma’am momma, I am quite the whore but only in my relationships, only for my woman, so that really means I'm just a good girlfriend.” 

That’s the American non-whore way… Right???

Constantly scared of the ridicule, I found myself settling for horribly abusive relationships, neglected and abandoned all within my relationships. But how was this happening, I had always understood relationships to be chaste and sacred and the perfect cover. How was this happening??? I thought that so long as I was in a relationship and everything was good then I had nothing to worry about, right? Wrong, I was totally wrong.

It turned out that there was a whole level of respect to the thing that I was totally overlooking. It didn’t even occur to me that I could be taken advantage of in the safety of relationships, but that totally happened. I allowed myself to enjoy sex in my relationships with my partners thinking it was a spiritual experience that was bringing us closer without first making sure we were on the same page, hell, making sure we were reading the same book. They say hindsight is always 20/20. 

I learned. 

So cut to present day. In my metaphysical quest, one thing has become clearer as the days drag on: nothing really matters because we are all matter. We are all connected and nothing is truly real but spirit. So in essence, we are all walking talking self-fulfilling prophecies because we are the stewards of our destinies and as such become a part of what we perceive and how we are perceived. So to those veteran grandmothers I was a fast lil girl. I was the sum total of my experiences because that’s what was shaping my reality. But one thing, the true solution has definitely changed me for the better: I understand the interconnectedness of all things and as such, I no longer give a fuck. (And that is the most proper way to put it.)

I choose to create my own destiny, a state of consciousness that vibrates in the key of ascension and lives tempered in the ethereal. I recall a line from, what is widely regarded as The Hymn of ISIS, as a celebration of the divine feminine balance specifically when it states “…I am the virgin and the whore…” I can willfully and skillfully be both without shame and fear because I have known both lives and they are identical in public opinion so to hell with it all. I am my own woman and I define me and I’m taking back that word and making it more; giving it personal meaning, substance. Purpose. My life is a series of single moments strung together with Roses, beautiful and dangerous, smooth and ragged. REAL.

I am a Woman Happily Owning Rights (to her) Experiences.

I am a Woman Honestly Owning (her) Risque Experiences.

I am a Woman Happily Opened (to) Receiving Everything.

I am a Woman Holding Ownership Rights (to her) Emotions.

I am a Woman Handling Oppression Righteously (&) Effortlessly.

I am a Woman Heartily Opposing Rigidity (in) Expression.

I am a Woman.

I am a W.H.O.R.E.

And all of this is okay.