Update

For those who are interested to know, there is a brief update to "Calling all good vibes," two posts down from here.

Daddy's girls

Christmas with the family was great. Especially with our ever-more emancipated Dad- this formerly taciturn and frequently surly burly man is now getting so expressive that he walked around the living room, arms kafloogling, saying ooooooooooh, demonstrating "haunted house" in a game of Cranium Hoopla. This after wearing around the beret my brother-in-law gave him as a joke gift. This after making much ado about his gift to us three daughters- the book Daddy's Girl and sweatshirt to go with it. Now, I like this gift and have no qualms considering myself daddy's girl, but the triplets pictures mom insisted on were a little much!

Calling all good vibes

Please send your good vibes and positive thoughts this way for my friend who is facing a tough weekend with her folks- she came out to them and told them about her girlfriend last month- since then her parents have gone a little crazy and really aren't being good parents right now (think harassment, spying, meanness, calling various people who know her, somehow scouting out personal information about her girlfriend, etc.) She's going home tomorrow for Christmas and apparently the `rents are staging some kind of ambush or intervention or really awful weekend. She's got an escape plan in the works and I brought over my entire arsenal of books and movies about GLBT stuff and coming out today and we talked, but she's still going to have a lot to deal with- so please send your safety and sane-parents intentions out into the world. A little sister needs them!

----update----

Well, she made it. Safe and sound and back at home now. Apparently it was pretty bad- her mom and dad were pretty miserable and insisted on talking about it all the time, offering her scads of money to break up with her girlfriend and move back with them, suggesting that she go to some kind of "conversion" therapy, and making an appointment for their priest to come over (fortunately, he couldn't make it at the last minute). They will hopefully chill out after a while, and she's got lots of great friends and a wonderful girlfriend and the library I brought over with me last week, so keep those happy thoughts coming!

"Kate B****'s Queerness"

That would be me (imagine full name)- and there is indeed a play about my queerness. Actually it's not about me or my queerness, but while having some fun with Google, I discovered that there was a play called "Kate B****'s Queerness" by Mary Austin, published in 1905, about a woman who must hide her married status because her husband is disabled and cannot work and if she were known to be married at that time, she would be fired and they would have no livelihood. The title was hilarious, though, and there is this queer little passage from it: "For some time Mrs. B**** [the title character's mother] had been troubled by a misgiving, and it was so new to her complacency that she did not know quite what to do with it. The misgiving took the form of a suspicion that her eldest daughter might be doing something queer. Everything not directly within the pale of Mrs. Bixby's activities that was not absolutely immoral was 'queer'..." So maybe it's really about my mother?

Happy Solstice!

Cozying up on the longest night of the year, vigiling for the rebirth of the sun, I'm wishing you all joy for this wonderful holiday season and a happy new year!

The Iceberg

I know some of you may hate the idea of ice right now, but this is important. And much related to the previous post, inspired by another part of what Trista was writing about recently, about how the subtle heterosexism of some of our family members and other well-meaning people is related to the violent homophobia that erupts into sensational news stories about murder. Trista has a neat drawing showing these widely varying kinds of heterosexism at the ends of separate tendrils of a Kudzu plant- very different but still part of the same plant (an invasive species that has damaged flora in the Southern U.S. and proven extremely difficult to control/reduce). So, this brought to mind one of the main elements of anti-violence work that I was learning about in a class at UMass this fall about violence prevention and intervention.
We are often bewildered by the extreme examples of violence that make oppression glaringly obvious now and then- the man Trista wrote about who murdered his 3-year old because he was afraid he might turn out gay, the crucifixion of Matthew Shepard, the dragging of James Byrd, KKK rallies that seem to spring up out of nowhere in otherwise nice towns- but these things don't just spring out of nowhere. They have a history and a build-up, predicated on the oppressions in our society, contributed to by what we as individuals do (or more often don't intervene in) that make some people "less than" others- less human, less real- an idea that makes violence against them more acceptable (and more likely). In our class this was put into the image of an iceberg- we only see the tip, the top 10% of the iceberg (the extreme, sensational examples of physical and sexual violence) while we don't see the 90% of the iceberg that is submerged (the violence supportive parts of oppression that go unnoticed and unchallenged most of the time- verbal, visual, emotional, and psychological). I can't seem to figure out how to upload the drawing, but the point is that the little things are supporting the big things, and so we all have to own up to the ways in which we have contributed to this iceberg. The hopeful thing about it is that since the support for violence in our society is in the smaller, daily injustices, we all have the opportunity to effect a difference for the better- by doing our best to confront our own prejudices and by speaking up as empowered bystanders when we see them elsewhere, from the dinner table to Congress to the workplace to the streets.

Ho Ho Homophobia

Trista has a really great discussion going about homophobia, queers raising kids, and standing up to our own families' ignorance. So, this has me thinking about many things- maybe this will actually be a few different posts. The first part, about whether we as a lesbian couple should feel badly about wanting to have kids because homophobia and heterosexism might be hard for them, really bugs me. All kids run into some kind of bullying at some point- anything from teasing to legal discrimination- and the ones who fare the worst are the ones whose families don't provide them with the emotional support and critical thinking skills to see through all that. Those with loving and supportive families generally do well. This is exemplified all too well in the stories of many GLBT teens who don't have family support due to homophobia, transphobia, and heterosexism, and who lose their childhoods and sometimes their lives because of it. Opposition to same-sex parenting based on the supposed concern over the possible difficulties in the lives of kids of same-sex parents seems to me to be a disguise for two things- not holding people responsible for their prejudices (of all kinds), and trying to get away from our responsibility as a society to protect GLBT kids in particular from the damages of homophobic/transphobic family life. This all inspired the rant below, largely a description of my experience as a lesbian girl, which was actually my comment to Trista's post.

"That stuff drives me crazy, too, especially from my parents- not surprisingly the people who have hurt me the most in my life, though they have loved me and tried hard, especially in the last couple of years. As straight and heterosexist parents, they provided me with zero knowledge about anything but straight sexuality. So, as a lesbian girl I couldn't imagine what my future would be, and I experienced internalized homophobia that really destroyed my mental health for all of my tween and teen years. I was harassed at school during that time, but I wasn't so much hurt as angry about that, and I started a Gay-Straight Alliance in response. The pain I remember is from the fear of my parents' rejection and the void that was the future in my imagination, because no one let me know that I could have one. When I finally came out, my parents rejected me and we had no relationship for more than two years, some of the worst emotional trauma I've known. I have always felt that homophobia from society and my peers was not what hurt me as a child and young woman- it was my fear of (and later experience of) my parents' rejection that hurt me. This is true now, as ever- the homophobia of others doesn't really phase me- I am still frequently amazed by my thick skin- but my parents still have the ability to shake me with their now-much-disguised homophobia. It isn't so much society or peers that hurt children who are or live with parents who are not white, straight, middle/upper class, Christian, without disability, etc. After all, careful parents have been raising strong and happy children to see through the prejudices placed upon them for generations upon generations- one of the best examples of which might be the careful parents of children of color in our particularly racist society here in the U.S. who have worked to strengthen their children and help them to see racism for the set of lies that it is, and to see the truth of their own value. It is society that needs to change, this is true. But it is parents (of any race, gender, sexual orientation, class, religion, ability, etc) who can fulfil the needs of their children by being the most empowering parents they can be. And to quote Sadie F. Dingfelder's review of 30 years of research into the topic: "Patterson's and others' findings that good parenting, not a parent's sexual orientation, leads to mentally healthy children may not surprise many psychologists. What may be more surprising is the finding that children of same-sex couples seem to be thriving, though they live in a world that is often unaccepting of their parents."

Finals week agony

Absolutely must get 118 points on my last final- physics- or no graduation for me. Tommorrow! 1:30pm! Eeek!

...update....

146! Woo! That's my low estimate, based on what I know I got right, and there will be a curve, too, so yay! That's what I call a Bachelor's degree, folks. Done. And I don't usually curse in writing, but just because I've been waiting to say it for years...

Kiss my ass, UMass!

Kiss it goodbye, because it's the only part you're gonna see as I'm high-tailin' it into the sunset. Now I can finally sing along truthfully with the Indigo Girls, "I spent four years [or five or six] prostrate to the higher mind, got my paper, and I was free-e-e-e!" Of course, this is UMass we're talking about, so they're not going to get around to mailing me my diploma for four months, but that's ok. `Cause I'm done. And so happy! Yay!

"Should I stay or should I go" to my daughter's wedding... What?!?!

So, a few months ago, my mother told me that she and my father might not attend my wedding. We had just met up at Bed Bath & Beyond so that we could hang out and so that I could go shopping for my friends' wedding that was coming up- their registry was online, but I wanted to see the items myself at the store. We finished shopping and headed over to a bookstore. I mentioned that J and I were registered at Linens N Things but hadn't put anything on it, yet, and that we would be going shopping for my dress again in a couple of weeks when J's family arrived for her graduation from social work school. She had a mini-breakdown and said she "wasn't sure if she and my father could come" and some other pretty heterosexist things over teary tea in the bookstore's cafe, things started going downhill even more when it began sinking in for me that she was actually, really, truly thinking about not coming to my wedding, and then I decided I had to leave. Things were pretty tense in the parking lot, and I don't remember what else I said, but she told me (again) not to spend too much money on the wedding, and then finished my sentence for me when I retorted that if she's not coming, I don't want to hear her assvice.
It's not like I hadn't anticipated this turn of events. Even though when I announced the engagement a couple of months prior she had managed to eek out a "congratulations" (after 20 minutes of nitpicking) and then offered some money towards the wedding. Even though she and my father really like J, a lot, meaning my father hugs her when we leave their house- and my dad doesn't hug just anybody. Even though J comes to Christmas and Thanksgiving and dinner usually once a month and actually listens to my father inform her about things like "digital photography on the internet" for 2 and 1/2 hours at a time, and is in many other ways a welcome part of the family. Still, my parents have had a hard time with the whole gay thing for almost 4 years now, and even though I know they are so much better than before (when we hardly spoke for 2 years), my mom's annoucement was in my head before and it shouldn't have surprised me.
I don't know if it was surprising, but I do know that I was way more upset about it than I thought I would be. Many a stern lecture had I prepared myself with about not letting them ruin my wedding-planning year, about letting them work out their own crap in their own time, and about once and for all not tying my emotional health up in knots over their approval. Of course, I knew I would be hurt if they wouldn't come, but I didn't know that it would weigh with excruciating heaviness on my mind and heart every second for the next 30 sleepless hours until I broke down and called them. She had said she didn't know if they "could" do it (come to their youngest child's wedding, which will only happen once, and which will damage your relationship with her irrevocably if you don't). I needed to know if she had made up her mind and reminded her that I know this has been difficult for her, but this year is my year and this wedding is my day ( not for anyone else), and she said that she knew and had thought of that since we last talked and that she would be there. She didn't know about my dad, though. I asked her to tell him I needed an answer soon, like by tomorrow, because this was driving me crazy. She said not to push it, he was still pretty unhappy. A few days later I got an e-mail from my mother saying dad would be there with her, "as they have always walked side-by-side".
So, that stank. We have had regular fights over their rejections and my unwillingness to let them slide for a long time now, and we usually stay away for a couple of weeks or so and then act like it never happened and things get back to normal and friendly. This time, though, it stayed with me for two or three months. I just couldn't feel genuine with them after that. Every conversation was an effort for me because I just felt betrayed all the time. And I have to admit I resented that my mother didn't call me for a few weeks in the middle there- she usually calls every week or so- ah, the unreasonable blame we heap upon our mothers. She's a great woman and I love her more than I could possibly say and she's done so much for me and she's my mom. And Dad? Well, he's another long story, but we love each other, too, and he's a huge boatload better at telling us than he used to be. We're family, for better or worse.
And they're coming. Whew. Good thing, because S was threatening to open up a big can of middle-child whoop-ass on them if they didn't cut it out. Such a good sister!

Bridezilla returns!

Bring me my wedding! Now! Arrrrgh!

A degree in dishes?

Always the "early feminist", I was the one who argued with the macho boys in our 6th grade "round table" on gender roles (my teacher still has a recording of this), the one who personified Elizabeth Blackwell (first female M.D. in the US) for 4th grade History Day, the one who co-created a play on Elizabeth Cady Stanton (and the first women's rights convention in the U.S.) for high school History Day, the one who got mad at her big sister (14 years my senior) for changing her name when she got married, the one who called out English and History teachers on the complete lack of women in their curricula, one of the few whose moms did take-your-daughter-to-work-day, the one who painted "feminism" in giant green letters on her bedroom wall (much to her feminist mother's chagrin), the only teenager I know of who read Ms. magazine religiously (and later covered her college dorm door with Ms. clippings and other feminist stuff). I certainly never imagined myself as a housewife. Not once. Never even imagined not working full-time or more. But here I am. And I know there are perfectly feminist ways to be a housewife- I'm an effing lesbian housewife for God's sake and not for long- but still I feel a little weird. Inadequate in some way.
Not that this is unwanted, really. I'm unemployed because I wanted to finish my degree this fall. This is also a large part of the weirdness- after working full-time and going to school full-time (every other semester) for three years and being totally self-sufficient, this sanity and support thing is a little hard to get used to. But also, just this summer I remember saying to J that I really wished I could work half-time, but that that would be unsustainable because of money. Now that it might be sustainable, oh the possibilities!
A half schedule would put me back in the realm of waged women, but I find that many women I have read or spoken with who work part-time still describe themselves as stay-at-home-moms or housewives. Somehow, I think I'd feel the same. Even though what I hope I would do should also be a primary identity or work- write, invest more in my tiny business, earn a second bachelor's degree, etc. In addition to wanting to raise kids and a true desire to keep a decently clean house. Ok, I have to admit- the kids are really the most driving force, though- what I really hope for the most in a half-time schedule is that we would be able to be parents sooner and easier.
Perhaps the weirdness is only the limbo of looming finals, moving in three weeks, and wondering what is going to happen when life as a student finally ends (at least for now). I think I'm going to like whatever it is, especially if the half-time thing works out, but I'll definitely have to piss off the radical right a little more every day in order to emphasize that I'm still a card-carrying, tree-hugging, goddess-worshipping, lesbian-lovin', Feminist- capital F. Even in a big, poofy wedding dress.