The reason I am blogging this and not responding directly to the person who, I am sure without really knowing it, pissed me off is because it's pointless to try and explain. He won't get it. I hardly ever see him. He's just straight and clueless and it's not his fault, I guess. So why stir up shit or attempt to argue when nothing good will come of it?
So I'll just vent it here. It's really about one of my lovely relatives missing the point entirely, which is what they love to do all the bloody time. It can be intensely frustrating. Also it's about heterocentrism.
It really is quite silly, so I find it amusing that I'm so mad. Part of it is situational. I'm mad in general right now for reasons some of you are aware of. Anyway. Also, I think it's ridiculous to have facebook drama. Which is why I am castrating the drama by just vomiting my feelings out here, where they can't make anything worse.
Ok. So there's an article about some gay penguins in a zoo in Berlin who have a baby. I posted a link on facebook and said that I wished the world were made up of gay penguins (and their too-cute babies). And then my uncle (who is my friend on facebook, to try and facilitate familial communication, which has always been a problem) comments on the link and says "But... if all the penguins were gay, there would be no penguin babies. No too-cute penguin babies anymore...sigh."
The first thing I thought when I read that was, "Has the whole world got Asperger's?!" Because it's such an Asperger's thing to do to take my fantasy (which I am so aware is just a fantasy, a daydream that's adorable and makes me smile) and find the logical holes in it. Or maybe it's just an asshole thing to do. Or a stupid straight thing to do. "But how will they reproduce?" I don't care. The world will never be made up of gay penguins, so I really don't think it's a vital question, or something that even needs to be brought up, ever.
If I want to imagine a world that is populated exclusively by gay penguins, I fucking can. And those people who get it and realize that I'm not really concerned with the practical aspects of starting a gay penguin colony keep their fucking mouths shut about it. Or they think it's cool, and enjoy the gay penguin fantasy as much as I do. Because, good lord, it's not now, nor has it ever been, about the feasibility of gay penguin societies. (Which, honestly, I think are perfectly feasible, but that is neither here nor there.)
My favorite part of the comment was the "sigh" at the end. Like a sigh for me being so much gayer than he thought I was based on our holiday interactions. Or a sigh for me threatening his heterosexuality by implying that I'd like to live in a world full of queers. Or a sigh for me being so misguided. "Oh, that Natalie, she wants the world to be full of gay penguins, but she fails to see the fatal flaw in her plan." Like I'm the one who doesn't get it. Please. If I want to fantasize about sending all the straight people to the moon, it's only because I live in a straight world and I get awfully tired of being reminded of the fact that I'm not "normal" day in and day out.
That seems to be the straight default though, defensiveness. Like they fear in the back of their minds that gay people might really send them to the moon someday. So they make sure and remind everyone that gay people can't reproduce. But. Gay people can and do reproduce. So the argument doesn't hold any water.
This kind of thing is why contact with my extended family is rather limited. I love them to death, but they just don't get it. And they never will, and that's ok. I can live with that. I have a wonderful immediate family and friend-family and they are so amazing that if I think about it too much I'll cry out of overwhelming joy, love and gratitude.
So what I take away from this experience is that there are certain people you love, and you keep them close to your heart and they know all your secrets and understand you so well it's frightening, and then there are other people you love (not any less than the others) and they maybe are bad for you, or don't really understand you, or something, and you hold them a little bit back, for your own protection, and that is ok. It is just life.
I am not lacking in love, though. I know that for sure. And I mean the kind of love that knows you, allows no secrets, and is pure and good and enriching and supportive. I have that shit in spades. I don't need my extended family to understand me. I need to be able to get along with them. I need to appreciate them and enjoy their company in small doses, which I do. Even though I am sometimes sad that I do not see them very much, I know that it is for the best.
Families are hard. That is just the way it goes. But you see pieces of yourself in them, and sometimes you make sense around them. It's like they are the last piece of the puzzle of your makeup, and to be complete you must acknowledge your origins. You don't have to hang out with your origins all the time, or even have any contact with them, ever. But you do have to know about your own history in all of its fucked, imperfect glory. Because you come from that, and you are (probably) amazing. People who made something as fantastic and awesome as you can't be all bad. Or maybe they can be, and you are the only existing shred of virtue and goodness, and your job is to escape and make something better of your life.
Or maybe your job is to rewrite history and make your life what you want it to be. Maybe you want to be descended from pirates and if you say it enough, you will be. History is pliable in a way most people don't comprehend. Lies, removed enough from reality by time, become the truth. No account of history is infallible, so you might as well make yours what you want it to be. Sometimes the "truth" is immaterial. This is where "realer than reality" comes into play.
And if you get it, you do, and if you don't, you're probably related to me.
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