Coming out as a(n obvious) butch dyke when I was previously known as, and basically looked like, a heterosexual woman, was like my very own social experiment about the effects of sexual orientation and gender presentation.
I've written previously about happy surprises that coming out brought to my life. I've talked less about the unhappy surprises; I'll hit some of those now. Here are some ways my interactions with others changed when I came out:
As I said, I'm only listing the negative or neutral things here, and I'm making a lot of generalizations. So please don't take the list too literally. Still, it was incredibly trippy to feel like I had stayed the same, but all these elements of the social world had suddenly changed around me. Do any of these hit home with you?
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via Creative Commons You're single, talking to a gorgeous single dyke. She asks if you want to grab coffee; you eagerly accept, your mind already swirling with visions of U-Hauls and organic, home-baked bread. But then she drops the bomb: "Let's meet at 3. I pick my son up from daycare at 5." You try to act nonplussed, but a hundred thoughts swirl through your head: Did she used to be married? How old is this kid? When do I have to (or get to) meet him? Am I really old enough to date people who have kids? Do I even want kids? And what implications does this have for our U-haul, camping excursions, and mornings at the farmers' market?? Like it or not, dating a woman who has a kid can be vastly different from dating a woman without one (or two, or three). Here are a few things to keep in mind as you embark on this chapter in your dating life.
Of course, not everyone hesitates at the prospect of dating a woman with kids. A dear friend of mine was intrigued when she learned that the object of her budding affections (who is now her wife, also a dear friend) had a kid. Now the three of them are one of the most solid families I've ever known, and I know that none of them can imagine life without the other two. So what's the moral for single moms? There are two: (1) Don't assume that being a mom will work against you in the dating world; (2) Remember that you deserve to have someone who loves you in part for being a mom, not despite it. So, dear readers: Have you ever dated a woman with kids? What obstacles did you face? How about my readers who are (current or former) single moms? What advice do you have for BW readers? I just read this article on the Advocate's website about a parent who accepted her transgendered kid early on. It's heartwarming that the kid wasn't bullied (at least, not yet--fingers crossed for him in middle school). But what really caught my eye was the sentence, "He transitioned at the age of five."
What? My first thought was this: no one knows what he or she wants to do or be at five. Five-year-olds will assert that they are dogs or fire trucks, or that they want to eat only pickles for the rest of their lives. Sometimes they assert such things with startling persistence. Are we supposed to take all these things seriously? At the same time, maybe assertions about sex and gender are more fundamental somehow--more elemental. Maybe by being perceived and treated like a boy from age five, the kid in the story will avoid nasty bouts with depression and gender dysphoria that would have plagued him if he'd transitioned at 25. He'll be able to go through puberty as a boy the first time around. Kids know who they are, this line of thinking goes. And a really big part of me agrees with this. Still, another really big part of me knows that the world is packed with sex divisions and gender norms. From a very young age, I certainly knew that I wasn't like the other girls. I always wanted to play with the boys and wear boys' clothing. When I looked in my parents' closets, it was my father's ties that I coveted (and my mom is by no means a "girly" girl, so it's not like ties were the alternative to dresses and heels). If the mom in this article had been my mom, I probably would have transitioned. Instead, my mom would reassure me that not all girls liked to wear dresses or play with dolls. There were unfortunate restrictions (how I wished I was allowed to shop in the boys' department!), but as best she could, she taught me that there were a lot of different ways to be a girl. I'm positive that her open-mindedness helped me to become the dapper butch I am today. For a lot of reasons, the road was not an easy one. But I am very glad to be a girl; my girl-ness just doesn't look like most other people's. I guess what I'm struggling with in reading this article is a fear that gender nonconformity will be taken for early expressions of trans identity. I think it's super important to accept kids as they are, but how do you do this--and support a kid you think may be trans--while at the same time, leaving wide open the door that your dress-eschewing kid may be a female butch? I worry that labeling gender-nonconforming kids "trans" is another incarnation of affirming gender norms. As you can see, I have a lot of conflicting thoughts about this. What do you think, dear readers? Is five years old too young to transition? The butch bridesmaid post I wrote past week has been getting an ungodly amount of traffic, mostly from Google searches. It seems that bunches of straight people are unclear on certain matters of etiquette when it comes to The Gays. This results in much consternation and awkwardness on their part, most of which could be easily avoided. (Note to straight people: if you're nice and well-meaning and not a homophobe, we probably won't think you're being a jerk. Trust us--we've encountered jerks, and they're not you.)
Here's my best advice to straight people in various situations that seem to make everyone feel awkward. Thanks to my excellent BW Facebook fans for lots of these ideas. Situation A: You know someone's gay and you're curious whether they're dating anyone. You know them well (maybe they're your kid, maybe your gay brother, lesbian sister, whatever). What not to do: Say, "Do you have any new friends?" I hate it when people refer euphemistically to my partner/DGF as my "friend," especially when it's preceded by an awkward hesitation. Something else not to do: avoid it like the plague. Act as if conversation about their romantic life is totally off-limits, even though you'd talk about it if they were dating someone of the opposite sex. What to do instead: Ask the question exactly as you would if they were straight, except switching the pronouns where applicable. "So, are you dating anyone these days?" is totally acceptable. Situation B: You don't understand why your lesbian friend/daughter/sister/whatever is wearing men's clothes. What not to do: Say any of the following: (1) "But you'd look so cute in something pink/frilly/fitted/from the women's department!" (2) "But you have such a great figure!" (3) "But those clothes are so masculine!" What to do instead: Respect our choices. We are well aware that we're wearing gender nonconforming clothing. We're not doing it to hide our figure or because we think we're unattractive or because we want attention or because we don't know how to shop for women's clothing. We doing it because we are much, much more comfortable this way. Many of us actually hate standing out, but we wear gender nonconforming clothing anyway because it feels like "us." Wearing girls' stuff often makes us feel like we're in drag. It's awful. If you want to gift us with clothing, please choose something that goes with our style. If you're confused about our style, inquire further (or do not gift us with clothing). Situation C: You don't understand how a same-sex relationship works (physically, emotionally, whatever). What not to do: Ask, "But who's the guy?" or "How do you have sex?" What to do instead: If you're genuinely curious, there's a plethora of info on the Internet about emotional and physical aspects of LGBT relationships. Don't put us on the spot with such heteronormative silliness. JFGI. Once you've actually made an effort to learn, your questions will be thoughtful and that will be obvious and most of us will be happy to chat about them. Situation D: You call someone "sir," then you realize the person is female. What not to do: Freak out. Or be awkwardly silent, as if it never happened. What to do instead: Don't freak out. It's happened to us before, and it will happen again, and when you're butch it comes with the territory. It's fine to say, "I'm sorry," then move on. Chances are, we feel more awkward than you do. (But comping us a drink or a cup of coffee never hurts.) Situation E: A lesbian couple announces that they're having a baby. What not to do: Ask, "Where did you get the sperm?" or other details of how the pregnancy came about. That's on par with asking a straight couple, "Was it an accident?" Unless they offer it or you're really freakin' good friends, keep your curiosity to yourself. What to do instead: Say, "congratulations!" Express joy. Attend the shower. Ask if they have a name picked out. The usual stuff. Situation F: Two women are out to dinner. At least one of them looks like a lesbian. They're not holding hands or anything, though. What not to do: Assume that they are on a date. What to do instead: Make no assumptions. If they indicate they're together or hold hands or something, great--then treat them just like you'd treat a straight couple. But I hate it when I hang out with a female friend and people think we're together just because I look butch. Situation G: A gay person of your sex compliments what you're wearing. What not to do: Assume they're hitting on you. Become uncomfortable. Make sure to work in a reference to your own sexual orientation immediately, just to clear up any confusion. What to do instead: Say thanks. Situation H: You know someone's gay because a mutual friend or co-worker told you. But then the person himself or herself tells you they're gay. What not to do: Feign surprise so the person doesn't think they're the subject of gossip. Or worse, say something like, "You don't look gay." What to do instead: Nod politely or say (calmly) something like, "Cool." Ask about the person's significant other like you'd do if they were straight. Bonus tips:
Hope this helps. Straight readers: any other awkward situations you encounter with gay people and don't know how to deal with? Queer readers: any other situations that tend to come up in your lives? Do we want state involvement in this? How much? _Lately, I've been pondering the whole idea of marriage as a state creation, and the government's involvement in family structure. First, let me be clear: I'm just trying this argument on for size; I'm not entirely convinced it's right. But as a thought experiment, follow me down this road for a minute. Imagine that the government was no longer in the business of sanctioning any family structure at all. First, suppose that there was no such thing as state-sanctioned marriage. No tax benefits for being married, no deductions, no implications for social security credits. Instead, marriage would simply be something that people do privately to announce their commitment to their friends or their church or their family or their God. There would be no legal implications for this, only psychological and emotional ones. Taking the government out of our private lives would have implications for family structure, too. There wouldn't be tax deductions for having kids, for example. Why should the government give people a financial incentive to have a particular family structure?) Instead of making sure that your employer gives you leave if you have a child (biological, adopted, whatever), the government could make sure that everyone got a certain amount of leave time to do whatever they wanted. If you want to have a kid, great. If you want to write a novel or volunteer at the local animal shelter with that time instead, great. It's not that people with families would be "punished;" it's simply that family-related activities wouldn't be privileged over other activities. Similarly, the Family Medical Leave Act (FMLA) could still exist, but it wouldn't just be to take care of a family member. Instead, you could use it if you needed to take care of anyone who was sick, even a friend. I can imagine downsides to this approach, not to mention logistical difficulties associated with a lack of default rules about various matters (e.g., who can visit you in the hospital). Health insurance could be problematic, too (though, uh, if we gave everyone health care, this wouldn't be an issue...). But there's no reason we couldn't find solutions to these problems. Since, statistically speaking, most people benefit from the laws and policies and practices that endorse particular family structures (and particular activities related to the creation and maintenance of these structures), I doubt that the government is likely to disentangle itself from these anytime soon. But when we talk about whether gay marriage is worth fighting for, I can't help but wonder if these fights are beyond the point. As long as marriage remains a government creature, I will remain fully dedicated to marriage equality. But maybe the real problem is that the government rewards and incentivizes particular ways of living over other ways, calling the structures it endorses "American values," and implicitly branding all others deviant. If this is so, it is a problem that goes well beyond gay and straight. I'll be interested to know what you think about all of this, dear readers. Should marriage be a government creature at all? At the very least, I think it's worth pondering. |
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