Posts Tagged ‘sexuality’

Providing an example: How do I feel about Coconut and Snort’s sexuality?

June 11, 2010

A real life friend recently found my blog and was decent enough to email me and let me know she was reading. She also asked if it was okay for her to comment on entries. My response? Of course – I love comments.

So she came a little late to the ‘ask me anything’ party that was going on before, but did ask a question after the entry was posted. I am too lazy to go find it and copy and paste it here, but it was something like:

Do you want Snort/Coconut to grow up straight or gay (assuming happiness either way)? Do you think sexuality is nature or nuture?

I want their happiness. Plain and simple. In the arena of love, there are a lot of possibilities out there – not limited to straight or gay, I might add. *wink*

In the interest of brutal honesty, a small part of me would be very pleased if a little bit of the old gay manifested itself (uh oh, here come the conservatives who will point to me as being a dark agent of The Gay Agenda!) but I think that is because of what being queer has meant to me.

It is not just who I fancy, it is who I am. Being different in this way has coloured my perspectives, made me be brave in ways I may not have known otherwise, and opened me up to a well of creativity, joy, and diversity. I hope Coconut and Snort will have those values and opportunities no matter what their sexuality is, and they will be a bit (blessedly!) different because they have two moms/mums, anyway.

I think sexuality is a glistening, mysterious, and primal thing.

I do think we are born who we are. I knew very young – we’re talking by age five, that I was different. I have a gay male friend who knew he liked boys at age 5, me, I just knew I didn’t like them! It took me longer to figure out that my version of ‘normal’ was not society’s.

But I think nurture plays a large part in how we feel about and participate in our sexuality. Are we brave enough to take risks? Is our heart open to love? Were we taught our bodies were beautiful, or did our parents shame us when they caught us masturbating as toddlers? Do we trust ourselves? What about other people?

These are the things life will teach each of us – and at the most basic, early level, that comes from our parents. Even as an adult, I struggled mightily with my parents’ reactions to my coming out. (I came out as bisexual long before I dated an actual girl, I should add. Because being queer – I later identified as a lesbian – is an integral part of who I am, whether or not I was dating anybody!!) As I grew up, it was painfully important for me to have my parents’ approval, it still mattered more than anything else.

Because parents are supposed to love us unconditionally, and suddenly I found there were many conditions placed upon the love I was offered.

I will not place those conditions on Snort and Coconut.

Even now, as babies, I do not participate in the ridiculous competitive shit that some parents seem to thrive on. I want the message to be given to them loud and clear: I love you for who you are, not what you do. You are special, and valued, and cherished. As they grow, this will not be conditional based on who they love, though of course I hope they choose funny, strong, smart, sensitive partners. But what gender those partners are?

During my heady crazy activist years as a VERY out bisexual, I always said I didn’t fall in love with genitals, I fell in love with a person. That is still true. I hope it is true for my children.

Lesbian bed death? Never.

October 10, 2008

I am feeling about twenty million times more sexual lately. I know, I know, you didn’t ask. But TMD and I have had some very good times lately, and twice in the past week I’ve thought, ‘That woman is hot‘ (about others, and I’ve thought it about TMD many, many more times!) This is not particularly usual for me, I must say.

It makes me wonder if I was in a mild depression for the four years I was at Day Job (okay, perhaps ‘mild’ is a bit of an understatement about how I felt about/in that job a lot of the time). I’m now in a job where I am expected to actually work, but at a human and bearable rate – this means I’m putting myself to bed earlier, more relaxed during the days, feeling emotionally better for not just hanging ’round the house a lot.

I have also felt like a weight has been taken off my chest since we moved out to the country. Yes, I still work in the city, but I know I get to leave it at the end of the day!

Stress about the baby has also reduced in a weird way, as we have a plan in place.

The end result of all of this is that my body appears to be waking up. Not too shabby for a lesbian in her ninth year of marriage.

Like a typed montage.

April 29, 2008

6:45 pm. Despite the fact that I have been home since 5pm, I have not started essay. Opening Word now.

6:47 pm. Okay. 1865 words written. If we apply maths to the situation, it might help. It is given that I need to write 3500 words. So 3500 – 1865 = x.

Can anyone guess what x is? No?

x= a bunch of shit about homophobia, sex education, and pointless rambling.

6:54 pm.   I may start a new mission to find all grammatically incorrect flair on Facebook. Because I love flair and I hate bad grammear, when the two are combined it does something bad to my brain. (1936 words. Half of which are quotes.)

6:59 pm. 2032. Have you typed ‘heteronormativity’ lately?

7:00 pm. If one monkey typed for six hours, he might finish his essay before I finish mine.

Still, 7:00 pm – 6:45 pm = 15 minutes. And I have written 2032 – 1865 = (my calculator has no batteries)

7:13 pm. Jesus, time flies when you are not writing your essay. I will write until 7:30. I promise.

7: 25. 2335. I’m checking Facebook/email/other website. I don’t CARE. Just until 7:30, though.

7:32. Did I say 7:30? I meant 7:32. And I need to go change out of my jeans now. I don’t know what I was thinking. I’ve been home this long and not wearing pajama pants yet? What is wrong with the world?

I do really want to have hit 2500 words by the time TMD gets home. We have decided that is when I will have ‘broken the back.’ I anticipate a point when I just continually mutter, ‘I’m gonna break your back, motherfucka. For real.’

9:31. Have hung out with TMD, eaten dinner, cried my way through an excellent half hour of television, and given our notice to our landlady. I have 2901 words written and don’t want to keep this diary entry open anymore. I don’t know why. It’s annoying me.

I’m fairly certain that the examiners will see me as some militant homosexual, but you know – I think people are afraid to fail self-acknowledged queers. Political correctness twisted and manipulated for my own gain, I suppose.

I have more big news for today, but it deserves its own post.