getting acquainted.

Let’s get it out in the open: I am pretty fucking gay. In short, the realization surprised me vastly more than it surprised anyone else in my life, with the exception of my mother, who has since come to support me and my partner. My life is pretty wonderful. Not only am I thrilled to have Marisa in my life, but being open has allowed me true happiness for the first time in many years. Even living in Texas, I feel accepted in most situations. My university has one of the most intensive nondiscrimination policies in the country. I am studying library and information science, have several minors (Women’s Studies and English! Feminism!), and write metadata for my university’s digital library. At home, I have cats to cuddle in addition to my human. I am lucky.

Only a few years ago, I felt trapped, anxious, and awful. Since then I have blossomed into a tattooed, vegetarian, and fairly atheist queer with a penchant for swearing and occasional travel to visit family adopted through the greatness of the internet. Let’s be clear here, too. Anxiety? It can be treated. Treatment has made my life so much easier on a personal level. I have learned that being able to function well – which I have almost always done – does not necessarily equate to feeling safe or stable.

This summer, I am taking classes and working. One of my classes, Sexual Behaviors, is taught by a straight, white male. He’s a great guy, too! I enjoy his lectures. Even more so, I appreciate his tact in handling conversations regarding feminist issues, queers, and trans* individuals. I understand, I think, why his lectures focus only on straight, cisgendered men and women. Our textbook, after all, is formatted so that many issues – such as queerness – are marginalized to separate chapters. As time has passed, my frustration has increased. I am happy to learn about straight relationships. The statistics remain interesting, if rather damning. But where am I in the complicated equation society has decided I must fit into? Intersectionality is expressed in small tidbits thrown in here and there, but still rather poorly. While no lifestyle (for lack of a better word) is put down in this class, necessarily, I am still disappointed. I am angry that in a class this thoroughly informative and forward thinking, there is still little space for me in everyday discussion.

In many of my classes, the following question has been posed: “Are any of you married?” I can’t say yes, but I don’t feel that no is an appropriate answer either. I would be if I could be.

Where are the statistics about people like me? I am more than a single PowerPoint slide. I am more than a single chapter in our textbook. I want a seat at the table, not a closet to be opened later. These discussions are important. Let’s talk about ups and downs in the lives of all now. It is a bold and complicated wish to want an immediate voice for all, but I certainly do want that. Let’s have a conversation. It is okay to be wrong at first. What matters is openness and flexibility.

I had minor surgery today, and am pretty damn ready for a nap. Feel free to borrow my soapbox while I force a cat to cuddle me and nom my human’s face a bit.

If I have touched a nerve or misspoken, please bring it up in the comments. I am a privileged and fallible individual. Interested in more? I wrote a guest post for my friend Lydia of Angry Feminist Killjoy you might find enjoyable. While you’re there, check out all her posts! She’s fantastic.