Recently I was warmed off and berated for my "obnoxious" bumper magnets (the ones that out me, my wife, and my poor innocent children.) This is my piece of that conversation that I delivered, but find my thoughts lingering on. It was a "kind" berating, palatable mainly by means of deliverer: a 70+ year old lesbian neighbor. Her and her partner have been together longer than my wife and I have been out of diapers. And she gave my children a light-up Santa Claus last Christmas.
I wouldn't have any of the joy in my life without that neighbor's experience and courage. It's only due to the generations before that we are able to enjoy all the freedoms and pride that now fill our hearts and days. Because of her we can announce our sexuality without having to shoulder the burden of it actually equaling a psychological diagnosis. Because of her I can choose not to marry some poor unassuming man and squelch my life living and loving solely in secret. Because of her, I can join in the fad of family represented stick figure stickers on the back of my minivan.
This woman is college-educated. She's not harping on her constitution's "right" to bear assault weapons or advocating for some "God" to change my "evil" ways. This woman knows love, is kind to strangers, and been out her whole life. She tells me this in an effort to save me or my kids. Maybe I don't know of all the hatred and violence and homophobia in this world?
I try to explain that in 15 years, my wife and I have driven much more "obnoxious" cars, toured much farther than Bayside, Queens, and received countless glove compartments and armrests full of grateful letters and testaments to our "courage" and "tenacity." I find myself trying to share the elation over a Honey Maid Graham Cracker Commercial circulating Facebook demonstrating ten times as many fan letters than hate mail at their brave wholesome same-sex interracial family representations. I try to remind her that violence gets sensationalized and Hate Crimes are severe for that reason. I try to share my generation's metaphorical cross to understand these complexities and sport our family stick figure stickers deliberately, defiantly, and with pride, for we live in the world that we make.
But even as I watch her justify her fears with obscure news stories coming from [cough] queer places where men are chopped up for smiling in some "wrong" way; I think of how I participate on advisory "boards" for LGBT sensitivities, and buy every perfect rainbow (and boycott every phobic almost rainbow... you know the ones who throw in an extra blue or green, pink or even omit purple just to make it not "gay"?) ...and even with all the good intentions eliciting my "expertise," I'm told with a smile that a rainbow flag might "offend" some and "invite" backlash, and I tread lightly, hyper-aware of the fact that the idea of unsexing daily announcements may very well earn me the label of too "difficult," "hostile," and "antagonistic" to "please." I walk a fine line every day of not revealing too much to the wrong person, or hiding too much and inadvertently teaching my children to participate in the creation of a world where their happiness must be diluted to make room for another's fears, insecurities, and, - more often that not - very similar but unknown inclinations.
I think about these things and then I remember, this makes me proud. This challenges my intellect. This colors my life. These colors don't run.
We don't run. We're here. We're queer, and we're sporting our stick family stickers! And, we love you. And we love us. And that's my peace.
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