Tuesday, October 26, 2010

"Coming Out" of that "Proverbial Closet"


So...I've always known I've had this mild to great attraction to certain people--not necessarily a sex.












A lot of people don't understand my logic, so I never really go into detail about my sexual orientation. To be honest, it's incredibly ambiguous. I hate to really categorize myself, because I am one of those people who value learning experiences and trying things to get a different perspective.

I found out that I was in this limbo the summer after I got out of high school. I'd only dated men before, and a curiosity that I had always had peeked when I met this woman. She was 25, and I was 18. We shared a brief, though intimate relationship. I discovered that I could be best deemed as "bisexual", due to this experience, and other desires that I had experienced for other women.

Whilst I do think that "bisexual" is a best term for me, I don't advertise it. That was never my way. I don't like to throw my personal thoughts and feelings at just anyone. This blog, even, only certain people know about, and only certain people will I allow to see it. I like to control the way things are as much as it is in my power to do so.

I have a strong distaste for hatred of any sort--whether is it targeted from the straight to gay population, or the gay to straight population.
I'm not an advocate, but I do strongly believe in equality.

A lot of people think that just because you're gay, just because you're an atheist, just because you don't believe what they believe, that you're a bad person...

You know what?

I have had romantic feelings for, and relationships with, both men and women--
I am currently celibate, and have been in most of these relationships.
I have experienced more love and understand through these processes than I have from my own parents.
I am spiritual, and I do believe in a higher power.
I bide laws, I follow them, and I have hope for "all men are created equal" to finally be a truth in this country.

Therefore, am I a bad person?

Am I a bad, horrible person, because I don't categorize myself as a
"Christian"
or
"Straight"
or because I don't indulge myself with being as close-minded as the next person?

Goddamn it, I'm so sick and tired of having to hide myself from my own mother and father.

Literally, around other people THERE IS NO CLOSET...around the average person I know; people who know me, friends, who I work with, who I consort with--they are generally accepting of whoever the hell I am. They know I'm on the level, they know I'm not a malicious person, and that's really all that matters.

I don't feel "closeted" anywhere, but in my own parents' house.

This is a tragedy.
I cannot be who I am with the full knowledge that my parents are going to accept me and love me, because the way they are...shall never, ever change. If I told them this...if I told them that I cannot bring myself to believe in Catholicism alone, if I told them I cannot bring myself to lie and say I do not have an attraction to women, if I told them I'm still me and nothing has changed at all--I would never, ever be looked at the same way.

In truth, I would be harped-on, and bullied.
By my own parents.

My mother would probably seek out a type of medicine to cure me.
My father would most likely shake his head in disgust at the sight of me.

And I know now...I've known, entering into this discovery of myself, that this is what it feels like to be alienated within oneself by the realization of who one is.
If we are not accepted, we are aliens.
I am an alien in my parent's home.

I actually did an experiment on my mother the other night, just to see if I was perhaps wrong about these assumptions I had made in regards to her person...

I asked her if she wouldn't like the idea of marrying someone outside of my race.
She asked me if I meant marrying someone black.
I told her yes.

Her immediate response: "I wouldn't support you if he left you."

How can someone jump to those types of conclusions?
What if he's cultured? Educated?! What if he's a millionaire?! What if he loves me for who I am?! Am I supposed to not be with him because of the color of his skin?!

What if this was a woman?!
It's the same difference!
Am I supposed to not be with her, when I feel these things for her? When it's real, and pure?

I'm a human being! You can't deprive me of the differences in opinion, in myself, my collective personality: THEY MAKE ME WHO I AM.

She's my mother...her reaction should be to open her arms, and to tell me I can love whoever the fuck I want to love. Her reaction should be to encourage my growth, to encourage me in anything I want to willingly pursue.
It breaks my heart that I've never experienced that sort of untutored acceptance with her, and that I never will.

People need to understand that it is a lack of involvement, acceptance, and awareness that is making poor teenaged kids--already confused about their own feelings--commit such acts as self-mutilation, murder, and even suicide.

If people don't understand this now, how are we ever going to presume?
Is everyone going to have to keep conforming?
Keep hiding? Keep pretending? To satisfy a society that we, ourselves, populate?

We can control the future.
We can change things.
I know that I will change it, personally, if just by taking this step to let you (whoever you are reading this right now) know that you are beautiful just the way you are. The person that I know and that I see with my eyes, just you, you are perfect. You are important, your opinions are important, who you are is important.
We can help the change.


From my mother's own example I have learned more about the mother that I one day aspire to be.
I vow; my child will never be subjected to judicious treatment in my care, by my mouth or by my actions. Black, white, male, female; they are going to be mine, and I am going to nurture them. That'll be my task, as a mother.
If my son/daughter wakes up one morning and tells me he/she is gay...I am going to hug them, support them, and tell them that there is absolutely nothing wrong with their feelings.

Literally, I think I'll say something to the extent of "As long as you don't intentionally hurt yourself or anyone in the process of doing whatever you want to do in life, I don't give a fuck. Jump in, kid, the water's fine for swimming."
It feels good to rant...
I haven't done so in a while.

Bottom line:

Being gay/straight/bi/trans doesn't DEFINE a person.
I am not DEFINED by the orientation I choose to identify with--so I choose not to identify, in order to escape said definition. It is only a piece of the picture--a gilded mirror in a scene of a beautiful room, if you will.

What does define me, is the contents of my character, my differences--my entire person as a whole.

I wish people would understand that.
Maybe then, I wouldn't have to tailor this explanation down to a blog entry.


Stay beautiful.

Tuesday, October 19, 2010

Romantical.

I feel like I need to speak.
I hold my throat, but nothing seems to come out like it should. It's loud, and it's vulgar, and unmatched. I try to meet these ends and they never, ever connect.
You don't like what I write.
You don't understand it.
It's okay, because I'm shy to show you anyway.
I can't say this out loud.
I'm falling.
I'm falling.
I'm falling.
And you're not here to catch me.
I'm crying.
I'm crying.
I'm crying.
I'm so crazy; I need to recollect.
But I love you, and I can't say it out loud.
I love you so much, and I can't cry it out.
I can't scream it like I want to. You'll leave me, I know you will. You don't want to set anything in stone, like they all said. I'm not good enough, I know.
I'm not worth a thousand explanations.
Oh well, oh well.
We'll have a good time, then you can forget me. We'll be together for eight days, then we'll part with a hug and a kiss and a nod. You'll never see me again. You won't regret you met me, oh you'll love the story. You'll tell it to everyone you know.
Your lovely American whore.
Your lovely broken-hearted American whore.

Thursday, October 14, 2010

Awkward.

So, I'm beginning to think that I have an atrocious issue of dating men who I never in my right mind would have dated--were I using all accurate parts of my brain.
I say this because I was introduced to a blog that an ex-boyfriend of mine began writing...

Clearly, it was not a blog that expressed any sort of thought at all. In fact, I don't believe he put five minutes into it's construction.
Perhaps we should review the reasons people begin blogs?
...
To express ideas?
To protract views?

To bitch out punk ass hoes?
I dunno.
You tell me.
But here I am wondering why in the name of Allah did I ever even consider him a suitable candidate for my romantic life...
I mean, as I read this rant which--though, perhaps, heartfelt--is entirely self-pitying...He goes on about his job, about his life, using phrases like "suck a dick, then choke on it"
Classy.
Let's wonder if your life really is that bad. Let's wonder if you actually love the attention you're getting from all of these negative vibrations. Let's wonder if I actually give a real consistent shit about your problems--considering your incredibly effortless attempts at finding your own happiness?
I'm thinking why, oh why, did I ever look at you twice?
I mean...you have a Chevy tattoo...the whole time you were dating me, you couldn't stop bitching about your ex...and, you hesitated whenever I asked you to come see me when I was crying.
Hello, asshole. You're my boyfriend. Yeah, you. I didn't just end a year-long single streak to fuck around with a two-bit jerk.
Bottom line, I don't pity him, or his so-called "issues".
A person who writes a blog about his issues with women, avoiding correct grammatical composition and being oblivious of his own annoying qualities--
does that need anything more than a blog dissing him?
No.
So this is my valediction.