On being two things, which is more about being more than two things
I straddle a lot of fences. And I pass for a lot of things I’m not.
Biracial. I’m not a huge fan of that term, but is the most easily recognizable and understandable for people who are unaccustomed to children of interracial couplings. Being biracial is not like being both black and white. I was never able to be either one or the other. I’m not sure I ever really tried or wanted to. People make assumptions. I can pass in a lot of ways—raised by a white mother, in a predominantly white town, I’ve been told I sound “white” on the phone. I went to a predominantly white college, married a white man, made a bunch of kids, the eldest of whom really passes. I live with a lot of borrowed privilege.
I like the term mulatta. [aside: I'm aware of the controversy surrounding the etimology and modern use. Wiki's got a decent breakdown, if you're interested.] It’s pretty and romantic to me. It’s meaningful in a way bi- or multi-racial has never been. It separate from white and black. It’s something else entirely. I guess everyone likes to think of themselves as “something else entirely.” I am not what you think I am. I am something else entirely.
Bisexual. Now, I do really try not to use this term at all (unless someone else prefers to self-ID this way), for lots and lots of reasons. Like biracial, it’s based on a bianry system. As if there were only two choices. As if! Pansexual is good, but always requires explanation. I used to enjoy the tongue-in-cheekyness of “heteroflexible” but that no longer seems appropriate. In fact “homoflexible” is probably more appropriate for me, but that sounds like some sort of Vegas act.
Queer is probably the most preferrable term for me. I like queer. I commented on another blog recently that I feel like I should wear a pin that says “I’m queer. Ask me how!” Not that I want to tell every Tom, Dick and Harriet how I spent my Saturday night, but I’m open to discussing my thoughts on my own sexuality and its fluidity. It’s something I think about a lot.
People make assumptions. I’m married to a man. I live with a lot of borrowed privilege. But I am not what you think I am. I am something else entirely. Ask me, I’ll invite you to sit a spell and hear my story.
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Judge Sonia Sotomayor
She’s a type 1 diabetic. When I found that out, I cried.
I am the mother of a child with Type 1 diabetes. I fucking hate diabetes. I do my best not to dwell on how truly awful it is, and we do (I think) a really good job of just sort of integrating management into daily life without making my son too “other.”
Every once in a while, we’ll see an article about some football player or pop star who is a Type 1 diabetic and we’ll talk about that. But, a Supreme Court Justice? That is completely awesome. Totally, totally awesome. Just the idea that Type 1 diabetes is in the national news is so wonderful. Public education is so helpful. And the example she sets is wonderful. She was able to excel in the very competetive worlds of ivy league academia and law. And now she will sit in one of the hottest seats in the nation’s capital. [Honestly, when I stop to think about what that stress might do to her blood glucose numbers, I worry for her a little bit!]
I hope that she will be frank and open about her diabetes and how she manages it. I look forward to hearing her experiences and how the media deals with the question of her long-term health.
So far, I like what I’ve heard about her court decisions. But, to be honest, that’s taking a back seat for me right now.
Filed under Health, Politics | Comment (0)Social (and Sociological) Sunday
We just got back from a loverly BBQ at my friend Forte’s. There were plenty of friends, kids, good drink and food. And the weather held—-sun and warm breezes despite the forecast of thunderstorms. It was really very pleasant.
I was rather traditionally feminine today, which felt nice. I wore a very pretty sundress, pulled my hair back in pretty gold combs, put on make-up. I even shaved. I go back and forth over cosmetics and shaving. On the one hand, it feels like a lot of fucking work and I’m annoyed that they feel “required” to be the right kind of feminine. On the other hand, freshly shaved legs and glossy lips do feel awfully good. I do these things very infrequently, and I like that—-it feels like dressing up, like play and it’s freeing to only do them when the mood strikes me. However, because I do them so infrequently, it’s very noticeable when I do it—people comment, sometimes ask why (which I never really know how to answer). It’s not altogether uncomfortable for me. I mean, it’s sort of the point, no? I am generally good at accepting compliments. And I suppose I’d be annoyed if I went through all the work on altering my appearance only to have no one bat an eye. But it does make me wonder how people see me on my “normal me” days—a slob? unattractive? unfeminine? At the end of the day, I obviously don’t care much either way and I’m happy with my public persona and I’ll keep going the way I’ve been going. I just like to think about these things.
My approach to femininity and appearance are, as always, complicated by being fat. On my worst days, I don’t bother with the conventional trappings of modern Western femininity because I fear people will see me and think “omg, why does she even bother?” And on really high self-esteem days, I get all dolled up as part of my fat positivity stick-it-in-your-face personal politics. I guess most of my days are somewhere in between those two, so I simply don’t bother with too much of the work of striving to traditional standards of womanliness. My normal daily wardrobe is a long full skirt with a low-cut bright colored top and sandals (or boots and tights in cold months). My curly, unruly hair is usually down (more like “out”) with little thought to style or accessories and the only jewelry I wear on a regular basis is my wedding ring. I’m likely to have very chipped polish on my bitten-to-the-quick nails. I do like to try and match my purse to my outfit, or at least not clash (ie, a brown and gold outfit will make me move everything out of my silver/black/purple purse). I don’t even own a pair of heels that I would wear out of the bedroom.
I’ve been avoiding the term “femme” through this post. I think that probably deserves a post of its own.
Filed under Chatty much?, Health, Politics | Comment (1)
TGIF, dudes
Another lovely day, but perhaps the last one for a while, at least as far as the weather is concerned. It’s a 3 day weekend here, but the forecast is calling for rain. Oh well, more crafting time for me!
I stumbled upon a great article on homeschooling as an expression of feminist and progressive politics and decided, with some hesitation, to share it with my homeschool group. Now, our group is secular and quite diverse, but I knew there were members who would find the article interesting and affirming. I added a bit of my own thoughts on the issue of being a woman financially dependent on my male partner and how I have difficulty reconciling that with my own feminism.
And, of course. Someone threw in the “that’s what women are made for” and “men were made to be providers yadda yadda yadda.
Sigh.
I don’t want to start a political debate there so let me make my points here:
I do not believe that my uterus absolves me of any financial responsibility for my family. Nor does it make me solely responsible for the state of our home, the laundry, etc.
I do not believe my husband’s penis absolves him of any responsibility for his children’s health, well-being or education. Nor does it make him solely responsible for protecting and providing for the family.
Biology is not desitny.
Not to mention this whole “women are for this, men for that” bullshit is so fucking heterosexist it makes my head spin. What if there are two mommies? Who is in charge of providing for there kids? Two daddies—-do those children just not get nutured? How dumb is that? I hate all the unexamined privilege that comes with this pretty little traditional world view.
I do value stay-at-home-parenting. I have been a SAHM and I dream about returning to that position. I also alternately dream of working full time and having my husband be the at-home parent for a bit. We have a, relatively, egalitarian partnership and that’s something we put a good bit of effort into. I think it’s important to model that for the kids. When I had no income of my own, I felt a power differential and I did not like it. In my head, I knew what I was contributing was worthwhile but I missed having something separate from my family and home that was mine and productive and, yeah, it’s so easy to feel “trapped” and “without options” when you are home alone all day with babies (even if they are the sweetest, cutest babies ever). There is a reason the rates for depression are so high among SAHMs.
[OK, I actually don't know what the rates for depression are for SAHMs vs. WAHMs vs. WOHMs vs. Women-who-are-not-moms, but, anedotaly, I know a lot more SAHMs who battle depression than WOHMs. Maybe WOHMs just don't have time to contemplate their mental health so they are going undiagnosed. I don't know. If you have stats on this, I'd love to see 'em!]
Filed under Homeschooling, Politics | Comments (3)
