I helped arrange dancers in a school that hosted an International Night two weeks ago.  One of the kids who was working with me after school told me as an aside that her parents were professional salsa dancers.  When she dropped out of the club that I was leading for preparation of the night, I met with her–although she did not want to continue for the performance–and then I had a professional who is truly bilingual call her Dad.  They were incredible dancers who compete nationwide.  It was amazing. Another girl dropped out too, so I only had a professional salsa demo and some singers for the whole performance.

The two kids who came to our club were singing a traditional muslim song–that has also been covered and popularized by Michael Jackson–and their brother tagged along too for the night of the performance.  He was a few years older than the girls and extremely extroverted and social.  Ultimately, this high school aged boy helped with the singing.  After awhile he asked what my husband did, and I simply said, “I’m not married.”  I didn’t say, “I’m not married to a man,” but instead lied.  I told my partner about it and explained that I didn’t feel the need to come out to some middle school students who I barely knew, and I realized that it is pretty odd to never be out with kids.  And I’m not.  I don’t mention it, or do I have pictures of my family up at any of my work desks.

I thought about this a bunch on Friday too, because I had a whole day to do paperwork and I usually think when that’s the case.  I had to mail my dissertation to my chair and my official transcript with my graduation date (9/12/14) to the University where I’ll be teaching next month at the Post Office.  I stood in line for about ten-minutes, which was really good this time of year, and the lady who helped me was giving me a hard time about mailing the former special 4th.  She said, “It doesn’t contain a letter? Nothing?”  I told her that I signed directly into the book, and finally I told her that it was my dissertation. She then said that she was a nerd and loved stuff like that.  She told me about Alzheimer’s progress and an interesting story on NPR.  It sounds like different genres of music are the most helpful when combating the effects of the progression of the disease.  Having watched my Mom over the last month and a half, I can tell you that sleeping in a bed and alternately watching tv doesn’t help dementia. Anyway, her points were cool, and she told me that a medical doctor was mailing an article to a publisher last week, and he wrote down the story so he could listen to it, because his article was about Alzheimer’s.

The lady’s colleague at the other counter commented on the gift card that I had bought at the Post Office and asked if I was taking her to lunch, and I told her it was for my uncle, and she asked if  was cute.  I told her that he was, but I’m sure he’d be taking his wife to dinner with it.  She laughed and said that it didn’t matter because the lady at the counter where I was doing my mailings didn’t like men.  I paused and watched what happened.  Most of me, because this was an adult, and we were actually having a good conversation while I was at her counter, wanted to say, “That’s totally cool, because I’m married to a woman,” but I didn’t.  And then the other lady said, “Well, she doesn’t really like women either.  She doesn’t like anyone,” and it had a weird tone.  The lady at my counter said, “Well, now that sounds terrible.”

After I thought about it for a minute or so having left the postal desk altogether, I realized that the other lady was implying that being gay is synonymous with being asexual.  So weird.  People are weird.  I think that the lady at my counter was a lesbian and was probably single, and maybe was so because of a terrible breakup.  I’m no secret to the latter.  Relationships are hard, but homosexual ones have a different set of obstacles.  My own mother never tells the nurses or aides who my partner is.  She just uses her name all the time and it’s super awkward.  That is an obstacle that is a gay one.  You can be embarrassed about your child’s choice of straight wife or husband, but you don’t omit the detail of who the person is as frequently.  My partner doesn’t drink, have vices, not work or do anything that would be a conventional reason for a parent to fail to acknowledge her role.  But, my Mom doesn’t call her my partner.  My Mom also never called my exes my girlfriends.  That’s my Mom.

I worked through my internalized homophobia for a good three-years when I was coming out.  It took that long too.  My Dad doesn’t care that I’m gay.  My Mom gets shit, I’d assume from her Catholic family, and has never been comfortable with it.  I always knew that since I was 12 that she knew anyway.  The difference between East Coast Catholics and Midwest Catholics is another topic for a separate entry, so I won’t belabor it, but I’m trying to make a point that regardless of my son’s friends caring less that he has two Moms, society is still pretty homophobic.  I’m not talking just about my worry about coming out to a traditional and very religious teenager, but I’m talking more about the juxtaposition between the old ways that people have felt about gay people being opposed to the way that this new generation really doesn’t see it as a different type of person.  As things tend to change and become more progressive with understanding of human relationships and tolerance, old ideas from older people or specific groups of people tend to stand out.  These are what are standing out for me now.

Does anyone reading this entry work with children ever?  That creates a different layer of being “out?”  I got a wedding card from the staff at the building where the International Night was hosted, so being out with staff is normal for me…  I get that pre-Christmas in a busy Post Office is not the time to explain to a lady that being gay is not asexual, but isn’t that a weird view too?  I’m not going to say much more to my Mom, because our relationship has been pretty strained since I chose to go to grad school, and it’s only gotten weirder over the last seven-years since I’ve been out, but I wonder how other people’s parents tend to react to homosexuality in our generation?

The rainbow that my 8-year-old drew when I asked him to