Of all the worries I had, deciding to come out, this one was easily one of the least. And yet, it seems to crop up the most frequently. The problem? Heterosexual women find out I'm gay (bi, whatever) and instantly get all skittish because they're worried that I'm going to hit on them.
Ladies, please. Just because I like women doesn't mean I'm instantly into you.
In all likelihood, I'm not into you.
Because when I meet a girl who takes my breath away, a girl who is physically my type or has the kind of personality that I'm a sucker for or whatever, I'm most likely to dig myself a nice little nook in the closet and stay in there. Why? Because like any shy person with a crush, I don't want her to know I like her. I don't want to be rejected with the "Eww, yuck, lesbians are gross," or even worse, "Eww, yuck, you're gross." I don't want her to not want to be around me because it's awkward to be around someone who likes you. Hell, I don't want her to reciprocate, putting me in a situation where I have to be the one rejecting her because I'm married and won't cheat on my husband.
If I'm openly talking around hot girls when you're around, I'm probably not into you.
There are actually very few women that I am into. I'm picky. Not desperate.
What do I like? I like girls with some skoosh to them. Smallish to average in the chest. Nice and soft in the backside. I like short girls. Girls with dark hair. Sweet girls, maybe a little shy. Affectionate girls.
One of my dearest friends is short, skooshy, sweet, shy, and has dark hair. Yet I'm not attracted to her. Why? Search me. I don't decide who flips my switch and who doesn't. But I wouldn't sleep with her, even if I were single. She's just not the one.
And yet, that girl I met at Ohayocon a few years ago, the one with the MASSIVE chest and ... well honestly I don't know what color her hair was because she was wearing a wig? She was so hot to me. Oh man. What a lady. Mmmph.
There seems to be this notion that all LGBTQ folks are oversexed and constantly looking for a mate or a fling or whatever. That's true of some, but it's true of some non-LGBTQs as well. I mean, we all knew That Guy in college who was always trying to get laid, right? That Girl who went out to the bars three times a week and never went home with the same guy? Hell, we see it in fiction. If the words "Mikael Blomkvist" or "Captain Jack Harkness" or "James Bond" don't paint a picture for you, you need to brush up on your pop culture because, jeez.
We're not all like that. Not all humans are like that. Some of us are very picky about who we find attractive. And let me clarify here that "attractive" isn't the same as "pretty" or "handsome" or whatever - I can look at a woman and recognize that she's nice to look at without being attracted to her. If I say to you that you look nice or that I like your shirt or that your shoes are cool, I am not trying to seduce you. I'm trying to compliment you. That's it. Like saying that your bike is seriously sweet or that your latest embroidery project looks professional. Just a nicety. Recognition of the positive.
Why does that get me treated like the icky lesbian I mean really.
Lots of heterosexuals claim that they're not homophobic, defining homophobia as that thing that makes you go out and bully/abuse/kill gays. I'll buy that. Most people I know aren't killers.
But folks, homophobia means a phobia of homosexuality. That doesn't just mean fear of homosexuals (and bisexuals, transsexuals, pansexuals, omnisexuals, asexuals, blah blah blahsexuals). It also means fear of your own homosexuality, real or perceived. It means fear of being around homosexuals (or anyone with any degree of homosexuality) because you're afraid of responding to it. It's okay to talk about hot guys and have me chime in about a hot girl. That doesn't mean you're gay or that I'm interested in you. It's okay to say "thank you" when I tell you I like your hairstyle. I don't want to have sex with it, or you for that matter.
There's a line in that amazing "It Gets Better" video that goes like this:
"Everyone made fun of Shannon 'cause she kissed a girl, so she hid her head and closed her mouth and shut out all the world. She is brilliant smart and funny, kind and talented but hey - doesn't matter what she is 'cause all she is to them is gay."
It's true. I come out because I don't feel like keeping a very integral part of me a secret, and all of a sudden my female friends no longer see anything about me but my sexual orientation. I'm no longer that girl who cooks amazing food and makes her own clothes and bicycles 150 miles a week and loves to talk about immigration and religion and anime and cross-culturalism (probably a little too much). I'm That Lesbian Who Might Be Hitting On Them Whenever I Look At Them Or Open My Mouth.
I always wondered why I had so many more male friends than female. I bet you that's why, right there. And that fucking sucks.
So to conclude: Ladies, the lesbians of the world probably want nothing to do with you beyond friendship. Chill the fuck out and get over yourselves.
Love,
Me
Saturday, September 10, 2011
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
Faces of Pride 2008
In 2008, I took what was probably the scariest step, for me, out of the proverbial closet. I came out the first time at 14, decided being out sucked, went back into the closet, was a homophobic Bible-thumper for far more years than I'd care to admit, then came out again, like a coward, after I was safely married to a man and could appear heterosexual to those I did not want knowing that I'm bisexual.
This step was to come out openly, publicly, in my hometown. To appear on posters that would be posted in every dormitory, every dining hall, every classroom building, every administrative building on campus. One hung in each office in which I was employed. I saw my face on this poster in every classroom in which I taught. My family saw it. People they work and go to church with saw it. My in-laws saw it. Strangers saw it.
The strangers were the least of my worries.
To go along with the poster was a website, a Faces of Pride site where you could click on the faces you saw on the posters around town and find out who each person is and what s/he thinks about being part of the LGBT/ally community. I remember sitting on the sofa in my apartment, composing my essay for my piece of the website. I was nervous. Sweating. Shaking. Over-reaction? Maybe. But this would be my opening move on the chessboard of "Oh my god, Molly's GAY?" that I was inviting everyone who had known me since birth to sit down at and ... yeah where was that metaphor going? Anyway. Scary times.
It's been three years now, and I still stand by 99% of what I wrote, back then. The only thing that's changed is my thesis topic. I did end up running away from it and picking something less close to home. I regret that, to some degree, but am certain I never would have graduated, had I been forced to engage a topic that close and that painful as deeply as you have to engage a topic you research for a master's degree.
------------
WHY IS IT IMPORTANT TO BE OUT or TO BE AN ALLY?
For me, being out is a constant struggle between what I am and what I am perceived to be. As a woman married to a man, my bisexuality is often dismissed as being "made-up" or a "bid for attention." I don't know if people realize how hurtful those statements are. I have found that by being out, I can serve as a role-model to others, both those in the LGBT community and those who are allies, showing that it is important to be honest about who and what we, and they, are, even if doing so puts us at risk for bad treatment.
WHY ARE YOU “PROUD”? WHAT ARE YOU MOST “PROUD” OF?
Personally, I am proudest of those who are accepting, and those who are willing to face a bit of discomfort in order to ask questions, clearing up confusion about what it means--to me, at least--to be bisexual in Athens, at OU, and in the US. I take pride in my responsibility as a bisexual to have answers for the questions others have for me, but also to have the humility to clearly say "I don't know" when asked something about which I have no experience or knowledge, or have not thought about before.
WHAT WAS THE MOST DIFFICULT PART OF COMING OUT?
The most difficult part of coming out is the gap between the "idea" others who are close to me had of me before I came out, and the changes in the perception brought on by my coming out. However, hand-in-hand with that difficulty has come the amazing, sometimes painful, but ultimately fascinating experience of learning what people assume bisexuality would change about me, and watching those preconceived notions dissipate as they grew more comfortable with this new knowledge. This is not, of course, to say that this struggle is over; quite the contrary, it is one that reappears anytime the hint of an LGBT-related subject arises.
WHAT ADVICE WOULD YOU GIVE TO OTHERS WHO COME OUT?
Be patient, be constant, and be careful. Coming out is absolutely a beautiful thing, but the negative reactions of others can and will be a reality. Once you're out, you're out ... even if you try to backtrack, the experience of coming out will be there, which can be a good thing. In my experience, it was the shame I felt for backtracking that finally pushed me out of the closet and forced me to face the issue head-on. Just be ready, and be careful who you tell first. You don't want a bad first experience to taint your memory of what it's like to be honest.
THOUGHTS FOR NON-LGBT PEOPLE ABOUT LGBT PEOPLE AND CONCERNS:
You know the phrase "we're here, we're queer, get used to it"? That's how it is. Forcing others into the closet through action, inaction, derogatory speech, or apathetic silence is NOT going to make us "go away." It's just going to hurt those around you, very possibly someone you're close to. If you're a human being, you should care enough to stand up for the rights of other human beings, to speak out when the time comes, and to be a supportive friend when things inevitably don't go as well as they could. Educate yourself. Ask uncomfortable questions. Don't avoid the subject or hope that someone else will take care of it. We're doing what we can from our side of things. Will we meet you halfway when the time comes?
ADDITIONAL COMMENTS:
I'm twenty-four years old. My life as a happy, out, bisexual woman has just begun.
This is my third year of graduate school, here at Ohio University. Where I have interests in many areas, my mind has been consistently called back to the issue of homosexuality, bisexuality, transgenderism, and everything in between. I have struggled with this, tried to change the topic of my research for my thesis, thinking that "this isn't appropriate, it's just a phase I'm going through."
This is not a phase. This is who I am. I am proud of it, defensive of it, scared absolutely out of my wits at the thought that I will carry it with me for the rest of my life. I'm tired of hiding it; yet I'm terrified of bearing it proudly. The support of my partner and my friends has been irreplaceable in my struggle to come to terms with and learn to feel pride and affection towards my place in the LGBT community and the world outside of it, but alongside it, the resistance, judgment, hurtful words, and shame of others, of family, friends, and coworkers, has been just as powerful. Without it, I very likely could have convinced myself to go on about my life, to pick another topic for my research.
I will not do that. I will serve my community, those whom I think of as my people.
As my mentor Dr. Muhammad says, "The struggle continues." And from it, I pray we'll all emerge a little wiser.
This step was to come out openly, publicly, in my hometown. To appear on posters that would be posted in every dormitory, every dining hall, every classroom building, every administrative building on campus. One hung in each office in which I was employed. I saw my face on this poster in every classroom in which I taught. My family saw it. People they work and go to church with saw it. My in-laws saw it. Strangers saw it.
The strangers were the least of my worries.
To go along with the poster was a website, a Faces of Pride site where you could click on the faces you saw on the posters around town and find out who each person is and what s/he thinks about being part of the LGBT/ally community. I remember sitting on the sofa in my apartment, composing my essay for my piece of the website. I was nervous. Sweating. Shaking. Over-reaction? Maybe. But this would be my opening move on the chessboard of "Oh my god, Molly's GAY?" that I was inviting everyone who had known me since birth to sit down at and ... yeah where was that metaphor going? Anyway. Scary times.
It's been three years now, and I still stand by 99% of what I wrote, back then. The only thing that's changed is my thesis topic. I did end up running away from it and picking something less close to home. I regret that, to some degree, but am certain I never would have graduated, had I been forced to engage a topic that close and that painful as deeply as you have to engage a topic you research for a master's degree.
WHY IS IT IMPORTANT TO BE OUT or TO BE AN ALLY?
For me, being out is a constant struggle between what I am and what I am perceived to be. As a woman married to a man, my bisexuality is often dismissed as being "made-up" or a "bid for attention." I don't know if people realize how hurtful those statements are. I have found that by being out, I can serve as a role-model to others, both those in the LGBT community and those who are allies, showing that it is important to be honest about who and what we, and they, are, even if doing so puts us at risk for bad treatment.
WHY ARE YOU “PROUD”? WHAT ARE YOU MOST “PROUD” OF?
Personally, I am proudest of those who are accepting, and those who are willing to face a bit of discomfort in order to ask questions, clearing up confusion about what it means--to me, at least--to be bisexual in Athens, at OU, and in the US. I take pride in my responsibility as a bisexual to have answers for the questions others have for me, but also to have the humility to clearly say "I don't know" when asked something about which I have no experience or knowledge, or have not thought about before.
WHAT WAS THE MOST DIFFICULT PART OF COMING OUT?
The most difficult part of coming out is the gap between the "idea" others who are close to me had of me before I came out, and the changes in the perception brought on by my coming out. However, hand-in-hand with that difficulty has come the amazing, sometimes painful, but ultimately fascinating experience of learning what people assume bisexuality would change about me, and watching those preconceived notions dissipate as they grew more comfortable with this new knowledge. This is not, of course, to say that this struggle is over; quite the contrary, it is one that reappears anytime the hint of an LGBT-related subject arises.
WHAT ADVICE WOULD YOU GIVE TO OTHERS WHO COME OUT?
Be patient, be constant, and be careful. Coming out is absolutely a beautiful thing, but the negative reactions of others can and will be a reality. Once you're out, you're out ... even if you try to backtrack, the experience of coming out will be there, which can be a good thing. In my experience, it was the shame I felt for backtracking that finally pushed me out of the closet and forced me to face the issue head-on. Just be ready, and be careful who you tell first. You don't want a bad first experience to taint your memory of what it's like to be honest.
THOUGHTS FOR NON-LGBT PEOPLE ABOUT LGBT PEOPLE AND CONCERNS:
You know the phrase "we're here, we're queer, get used to it"? That's how it is. Forcing others into the closet through action, inaction, derogatory speech, or apathetic silence is NOT going to make us "go away." It's just going to hurt those around you, very possibly someone you're close to. If you're a human being, you should care enough to stand up for the rights of other human beings, to speak out when the time comes, and to be a supportive friend when things inevitably don't go as well as they could. Educate yourself. Ask uncomfortable questions. Don't avoid the subject or hope that someone else will take care of it. We're doing what we can from our side of things. Will we meet you halfway when the time comes?
ADDITIONAL COMMENTS:
I'm twenty-four years old. My life as a happy, out, bisexual woman has just begun.
This is my third year of graduate school, here at Ohio University. Where I have interests in many areas, my mind has been consistently called back to the issue of homosexuality, bisexuality, transgenderism, and everything in between. I have struggled with this, tried to change the topic of my research for my thesis, thinking that "this isn't appropriate, it's just a phase I'm going through."
This is not a phase. This is who I am. I am proud of it, defensive of it, scared absolutely out of my wits at the thought that I will carry it with me for the rest of my life. I'm tired of hiding it; yet I'm terrified of bearing it proudly. The support of my partner and my friends has been irreplaceable in my struggle to come to terms with and learn to feel pride and affection towards my place in the LGBT community and the world outside of it, but alongside it, the resistance, judgment, hurtful words, and shame of others, of family, friends, and coworkers, has been just as powerful. Without it, I very likely could have convinced myself to go on about my life, to pick another topic for my research.
I will not do that. I will serve my community, those whom I think of as my people.
As my mentor Dr. Muhammad says, "The struggle continues." And from it, I pray we'll all emerge a little wiser.
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
Welcome to the United States of America
A friend of mine from high school posted the following on her facebook page:
"GOOD AFTERNOON, WELCOME TO THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA, a nation founded on Christian principles, land of the Free and home of the Brave. How may I help you? Press '1' for English. Press '2' to disconnect until you learn to speak English, and remember only two defining forces have ever Offered to die for you, Jesus Christ and the American Soldier. One died for your soul, the other for your Liberty."
I found that to be unspeakably offensive. Probably offended her when I replied with "A land founded on genocide and the idea of freedom from religious persecution, actually. Why should we be a nation of English-only when so many other nations are doing great with two or three languages in use across their lands?"
We'll see if she replies to that.
But seriously, folks, this land wasn't empty when Europeans got here. There were multiple cultures patchworked across this great nation, with their own practices and beliefs and languages and problems and technology. Europeans came here to escape poverty and religious persecution and obscurity (depending on who we're talking about) and ended up killing off those cultures with disease and violence and broken promises. Then as the Europeans spread west, they decided to yank whole chunks of land out of Mexico's hands, and now we complain about immigration and language?
Really, what's so wrong about being a bilingual country? Huh? What's the problem there? Many Americans (I hate that term, because we're just one country in North America, but "USians" sounds weird, so bear with me please) think that travel to other countries is easy because "Everybody speaks English." Let me correct you: THEY DO NOT. But you've got a better chance of finding someone who speaks at least a little English in a non-English speaking country than you do of finding someone who speaks, say, Mandarin when you're visiting France, or Russian when you're visiting Taiwan.
We border a fucking Spanish-speaking country. We have a fucking Spanish-speaking protectorate (Puerto Rico). So ... what's the problem with people in this country speaking Spanish? Why can't we learn Spanish if we expect others to learn English?
Now here I'll make it very clear that yes, Spanish is INCREDIBLY FUCKING DIFFICULT. All those conjugations and masculine/feminine and OH GOD the subjunctive but - oh wait, no, that's the the problem, is it.
It's racism. Pure and simple. You come here and you don't speak English? Clearly you're stupid, lesser, a mooch, etc.
Clearly.
Except not.
Did you know that many international students who come to the US to study have a low opinion of their American classmates because Americans speak only one language? That those immigrants who come here speaking Spanish and learning English would seem far, far smarter to a great deal of the world because they're not monolingual?
Oh, and I really should point out that I'm assuming my friend was referring to Spanish-speakers in her post. Yeah, I know, assuming is wrong. But she lives in Texas, so ...
Right. It goes for everyone then who comes here with no English. It was the Polish, back when I was in Jersey. Up here in Massachusetts, it's Swedes and Indians, mostly. They're here, trying to learn a new culture, a new language, all while maintaining their own cultural heritage. That can't be easy. But you don't see them whining that no one speaks their first language.
And then there's the religion thing.
I. Am. So. Fucking. Sick. Of. People. Calling. This. A. Christian. Nation.
Really.
So sick of it I could just scream.
I'm not sure where to start with this, so I'll start from my personal feelings, that seems a safe enough spot. I'm not Christian. I was baptized and confirmed in the Methodist church. I was raised in the church. At the age of 26, I realized that I didn't believe in the things that you kind of totally have to believe in order to actually belong to a Christian church. Namely, I don't believe that Jesus was any more or less divine than any other human. I respect Jesus as a phenomenal teacher and humanitarian, but not as a deity.
I was always told that this country was invaded by Europeans who were being persecuted based on their religion. Why now is it that I feel like I don't belong to this country because of my religious beliefs? Is that not persecution?
My landlady is a super duper sweet woman. She's Indian, came to this country decades ago. Her English is fluent but heavily accented. I speak careful English around her to help her understand me. She's terribly excited about my thesis topic because her husband is Muslim. I'm not sure what her religion is.
I do know that she intimidates the stuffing out of me because she's a retired professor. Where'd she teach? Harvard. Yeah. THE Harvard.
English isn't her first language. She isn't Christian.
But she's American. Just as much as me or the girl who posted that offensive little learn-English-and-worship-Jesus thing to facebook.
So back off and let America be a fucking meltingpot for once, eh? That's what it's supposed to be. Makes me sick that self-proclaimed patriots are the ones keeping it from being all it can be.
"GOOD AFTERNOON, WELCOME TO THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA, a nation founded on Christian principles, land of the Free and home of the Brave. How may I help you? Press '1' for English. Press '2' to disconnect until you learn to speak English, and remember only two defining forces have ever Offered to die for you, Jesus Christ and the American Soldier. One died for your soul, the other for your Liberty."
I found that to be unspeakably offensive. Probably offended her when I replied with "A land founded on genocide and the idea of freedom from religious persecution, actually. Why should we be a nation of English-only when so many other nations are doing great with two or three languages in use across their lands?"
We'll see if she replies to that.
But seriously, folks, this land wasn't empty when Europeans got here. There were multiple cultures patchworked across this great nation, with their own practices and beliefs and languages and problems and technology. Europeans came here to escape poverty and religious persecution and obscurity (depending on who we're talking about) and ended up killing off those cultures with disease and violence and broken promises. Then as the Europeans spread west, they decided to yank whole chunks of land out of Mexico's hands, and now we complain about immigration and language?
Really, what's so wrong about being a bilingual country? Huh? What's the problem there? Many Americans (I hate that term, because we're just one country in North America, but "USians" sounds weird, so bear with me please) think that travel to other countries is easy because "Everybody speaks English." Let me correct you: THEY DO NOT. But you've got a better chance of finding someone who speaks at least a little English in a non-English speaking country than you do of finding someone who speaks, say, Mandarin when you're visiting France, or Russian when you're visiting Taiwan.
We border a fucking Spanish-speaking country. We have a fucking Spanish-speaking protectorate (Puerto Rico). So ... what's the problem with people in this country speaking Spanish? Why can't we learn Spanish if we expect others to learn English?
Now here I'll make it very clear that yes, Spanish is INCREDIBLY FUCKING DIFFICULT. All those conjugations and masculine/feminine and OH GOD the subjunctive but - oh wait, no, that's the the problem, is it.
It's racism. Pure and simple. You come here and you don't speak English? Clearly you're stupid, lesser, a mooch, etc.
Clearly.
Except not.
Did you know that many international students who come to the US to study have a low opinion of their American classmates because Americans speak only one language? That those immigrants who come here speaking Spanish and learning English would seem far, far smarter to a great deal of the world because they're not monolingual?
Oh, and I really should point out that I'm assuming my friend was referring to Spanish-speakers in her post. Yeah, I know, assuming is wrong. But she lives in Texas, so ...
Right. It goes for everyone then who comes here with no English. It was the Polish, back when I was in Jersey. Up here in Massachusetts, it's Swedes and Indians, mostly. They're here, trying to learn a new culture, a new language, all while maintaining their own cultural heritage. That can't be easy. But you don't see them whining that no one speaks their first language.
And then there's the religion thing.
I. Am. So. Fucking. Sick. Of. People. Calling. This. A. Christian. Nation.
Really.
So sick of it I could just scream.
I'm not sure where to start with this, so I'll start from my personal feelings, that seems a safe enough spot. I'm not Christian. I was baptized and confirmed in the Methodist church. I was raised in the church. At the age of 26, I realized that I didn't believe in the things that you kind of totally have to believe in order to actually belong to a Christian church. Namely, I don't believe that Jesus was any more or less divine than any other human. I respect Jesus as a phenomenal teacher and humanitarian, but not as a deity.
I was always told that this country was invaded by Europeans who were being persecuted based on their religion. Why now is it that I feel like I don't belong to this country because of my religious beliefs? Is that not persecution?
My landlady is a super duper sweet woman. She's Indian, came to this country decades ago. Her English is fluent but heavily accented. I speak careful English around her to help her understand me. She's terribly excited about my thesis topic because her husband is Muslim. I'm not sure what her religion is.
I do know that she intimidates the stuffing out of me because she's a retired professor. Where'd she teach? Harvard. Yeah. THE Harvard.
English isn't her first language. She isn't Christian.
But she's American. Just as much as me or the girl who posted that offensive little learn-English-and-worship-Jesus thing to facebook.
So back off and let America be a fucking meltingpot for once, eh? That's what it's supposed to be. Makes me sick that self-proclaimed patriots are the ones keeping it from being all it can be.
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