Family Affair

So, in case anybody was wondering, I like a girl.  I know it, she knows it.  It’s basically old news by now, to the point that it shouldn’t even be an issue.  That’s not the important part.  What’s important is that, of all the things that this particular girl does or does not do, the one thing she does that baffles me is remember certain things.  Namely, every so often she remembers that she wants to meet my mother.  I don’t understand this.  Why does she want to meet my mother?  I’ve asked a few times and gotten exactly two types of answers: 1) If she raised you, she must be pretty cool, and 2) You’ve met my mom, it’s only fair.  She’s right on both points.  My mother is pretty cool.  I love her like crazy.  I have also met her mother more than once.  She seems to really like me, yet I have no idea why.  Based on her logic, she should meet my mother.  Based on my actions, that’s never going to happen.

I had the opportunity to introduce them once, but I didn’t.  What’s more, I didn’t on purpose.  Why, you may ask?  What harm could it possibly do?  Well, let’s go back to that very first sentence of this article.  I like this girl.  I really like this girl.  My mother would pick up on that in about a minute, and the last thing I need is her giving me that look she gives whenever I like someone of the female persuasion (a mix of amusement, resignation, and an air of “really?”).  Beyond that, though, is a much bigger issue.  I want to impress this girl.  I want her to like me.  On one level, she already does; this is why we’re friends.  Thing is, there are things about my mother that she wouldn’t like (like, say, her pride in her giant fur coat).  There are things about my mother that I don’t like (say, her track record in defending GLBT issues in front of her very queer daughter).  She raised me and she takes care of me and she loves me and I love her, but my mother and I are not the same.  She enjoys shopping and cowboy movies and Tyler Perry and doesn’t get the Happy Holidays/Merry Christmas debate (“Why can’t I say ‘Merry Christmas’?  It’s Christmastime!”).  Yes, I acknowledge that these are all fairly shallow things, but damn it, I’m trying to look cool!  It’s hard to impress someone who thinks you’re nerdiness is cool with Tyler Perry.

The beauty of being a GLBT person is that there’s a pretty good chance that you don’t match up with your family.  You may be an NPR listening politigay who follows Nate Silver, you may be a Gaga loving little monster, you may be a Prop 8/Don’t Ask Don’t Tell fighting activist, but that doesn’t mean your parents are.  Just because your arm has a tattoo that reads “I heart Tegan” (or Sara, your pick) doesn’t mean your dad doesn’t read Joel Olsteen and your mom doesn’t jump for Glenn Beck.  This is true for everyone, straight or queer, but things get a bit more tense when you’re rainbow.  You’re automatically different because of your orientation (unless you happen to have same-sex parents, but that’s a different story for a different article).  You spend all this energy towards fighting for your right to be, to love, and to live, and you’ve made a name for yourself in your own little makeshift family in the land of the minority.  You may be liked, you may be respected.  Someone might even love you.  You’re not doing too badly.  Now, how do you introduce those in your lovely little world to your family, who may or may not get you, let alone those like you?

It all comes down to embarrassment.  Sure, you get it when your brother makes some off-color joke, but will your best friend?  You and your sister agreed to disagree a long time ago on whether same-sex marriage should be legal, and you know she loves you enough to come to your big gay wedding, but how do you explain that to your boyfriend or girlfriend?  Hell, how do you explain to your grandmother who Uh Huh Her is while she belts out Taylor Swift in front of your buddies (and yes, some grandmothers listen to Taylor Swift.  I’ve also heard that some gays do, too!)?  If nothing else, two things are certain.  First, you love your family, for better or worse, and they love you.  Second, you have nothing in common, and the sooner your friends notice, the lamer you’ll look by association.

What we need to keep in mind is that we are not our family.  No one is their family.  If that were the case, all families would believe (or not believe) in the same God(s), have the same political ideals, and even cheer for the same sports teams.  Same-sex couples would only raise children who are attracted to the same sex, and straight couples would only have straight kids (I don’t even know what sort of relationship goodness would be necessary for bi or trans children).  More importantly, other people are not their families.  If we can remember this, then we won’t judge people based on what their relatives say or do.  Hopefully, people can do the same for us.  If they don’t, well, perhaps we ought to politely remind them that we’ve been fighting for a world in which we aren’t judged, so perhaps we ought to practice what we preach.  Anyone who can’t at least respect that honestly isn’t worth your time (no matter how cute they are).

As per usual, there are exceptions to this rule.  I’m not talking about the relatives that are horrible homophobes who you have to be closeted around.  If you can’t be yourself, perhaps it’s wise not to force your friends to lie as well (unless the circumstances require it, which, in that case, you should have a talk).  I’m not talking about the family who threatens to kick you out (or actually does) or hurt you in some way.  No, this is about mutual love and respect.  I’m talking about when there’s no worry for safety, just lost of pride.

Will I continue to try to hide my crush from my mother?  Honestly, probably not.  There’s not a huge chance that they’ll be in the same room anytime soon, but it is possible.  If that time comes, I’ll try to make sure that nothing big comes up (if I’m lucky, I’ll just keep the conversation about something they both like, like making fun of me), but if something embarrassing comes up, I guess I’ll just have to deal.  After all, my mother has excepted me and my bisexy ways, and although she isn’t PFLAG’s Mom-of-the-Year, she does put in an effort and treats my romantic interests the same (no matter what the sex).  She loves me and she respects who I am, even if a daughter with a girlfriend wasn’t exactly what she had in mind.  After all that (plus the whole feeding and clothing and changing me as a baby stuff), the least I can do is sit through a conversation where she gives me knowing glares and embarrasses me.  You can’t pick your family; you can only hope to accept each other.

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