Really long rant about family. Something about the friggin holidays that makes so many of us miserable thinking of our "families".
Most of my RL friends have heard me complain about how "normal" my family is, for the worst possible meaning of the word "normal". Everything that is negative about the personality type "SJ" is my family. I grew up in a very loving household, but loving in an incredibly narrow-minded, suffocating way. I was not encouraged to be politically or socially active. I was encouraged to get good grades and play sports, because how else could I ever get into college? After all, my life would be a horrible wasted life if I didn't get into a good school (on scholarship, of course) and graduate in a "traditional" major. Nevermind that I wasn't interested in "traditional" majors or sports, and certainly nevermind that no one had a good answer for what I was supposed to do with this education when I was done with it. I was encouraged to learn typing and get a good job as an office assistant, because that would give me security.
My mom was endlessly puzzled and frustrated because I hated dresses and dressed like a "boy". She forced dolls and kitchen gadgets on me for toys, repeatedly denying my christmas requests for legos, tinker toys, G.I. Joes, Hot Wheels, youth science kits, power tools, etc. My dad enjoyed taking me hunting and teaching me how to drive, and even gave me a rifle when I was a kid, but then thought better of it when I asked to take it with me when I moved out as an adult, feigning forgetfulness at the gift, claiming he had never given me a gun.
My parents wanted nothing more than for me to excel at being "normal". They hated that I hung around with all guys, they thought I should have a small circle of female friends, one best female friend, all of whom got good grades and planned to go to college, get married, and have kids. When I started thinking more and more about boys and sex, my mom wanted me to see a therapist. They refused to let me fully participate in the joke of a drama department at school, letting me audition for the plays, but resenting the number of hours I spent dancing and rehearsing, refusing me singing lessons and threatening to remove me from the play if my grades weren't kept above a 3.5 (which they always were). When the cast had their cast parties, I wasn't allowed to go because I would be out "too late" ... nice girls didn't stay out all hours of the night and they certainly didn't go to co-ed parties where there were no adults (never mind that these "parties" were at the nearest 24 diner after the show ended, not a private residence). My parents also refused to let me have boys in my room. Considering that I didn't have any female friends, and my Nintendo was in my room, let's just say it was difficult to legitimately entertain my friends. But girls could come over, and even share my bed if they slept over. I did point out to them that if I were gay, all they had feared would happen by their own insistence. They ignored the comment.
I notice I'm rambling and jumping all over the place in subjects. I'm angry. I'm frustrated. I'm besieged with random images from my childhood that emphasize my confined upbringing. There was the time I wanted to take my very good friend to our formal charity ball in high school. It was called the Black And White Ball (because that term means "formal event", as in tuxedo black and white). My friend was black. I didn't really notice other than I would notice, say, someone's hair or eye color. My mom grounded me to keep me from going unless I chose a different date. I couldn't get another date last minute and had to work the dance serving drinks, instead of attending as a guest. I thought at the time it meant she was racist, which really pissed me off because she, herself, participated in an interracial marriage. What I learned later, was that she was trying to "protect" me from the backlash she was sure would find me, based on her experiences marrying a white man (she's mexican) back in the early '70s. Had I a daughter, I would first educate her as to what she might expect, then encourage her to be true to herself, make her choices, and live with them proudly, to stand up for what she believed in in the face of hatred and anger and controversy. Why would anyone want to protect someone from experiencing life? They would miss out on so much that is wonderful, and they would miss out on learning the very important lessons one learns when life isn't so wonderful.
I remember my mom throwing a fit because I was 18 and graduating high school and I informed her that I was taking a "senior trip", a week-long road trip, that included my male and female friends who had also graduated with me. She refused to let me go. I told her I was an adult and she no longer had any power over me. Her response was, predictably, "While you live in my house, you will live by my rules". When I asked for a reason why that made sense, she always responded with "because I'm the mother, that's why" and "stop being so argumentative". Asking why isn't, IMO, arguing at all.
I remember after I "came out" to my mom about poly, I insisted on bringing home the other two members of my triad for the holidays, a male and a female. My mother insisted that he sleep in a different room, but she and I could sleep together. And yes, I did tell her I was dating the girl too. And yes, I was living with both of them. Did I mention I was 27 years old at the time? But it was "inappropriate" to share the room with him, yet not "inappropriate" to share the room with her ... she apparently ignored the possibility that having lesbian sex in her guest room would be more "inappropriate" than having vanilla sex with my boyfriend (of course she doesn't get homosexuality either).
I remember being 19 years old and having a curfew. I had to be in by 12:30 AM, no matter what day of the week it was, whether I was able to get up to work and school on time every day, even no matter that I was PAYING THEM RENT! Discussion and negotiation were refused. The only way I could get out of a curfew was to move out of the house. Which I did following a fight that turned physical as my mother tried to restrain me from leaving the house to go on a date because I had broken curfew the night before.
I remember being 20 years old, living with my then-fiance, and planning a trip to Reno for my 21st birthday. He and I were to sleep over at my parents house the night before we were to drive up, so we could leave very early in the morning and it would be more convenient to have us all in one location. My mother refused to let me share the guest room with my fiance. Her reason? It's disrespectful and she won't have it in her house.
I remember dating my high school sweetie and his parents were very well off and also quite "progressive". They invited me on several vacations. I was not allowed to go until my parents called his parents to make sure they would be present. His parents let us share a room. They just didn't tell my parents that. They also had to emphasize that "all the kids" (meaning his sister and her female friend that accompanied us) would also have the "kids room" and they would be next door with the connecting door open. Apparently having teenagers sleep in a room with the parents' sleeping room open to them *wasn't* inappropriate.
I remember being 12 years old and practicing the piano. My mom came home with a brand new pair of brightly colored culottes for me. I was not enthusiastic. I tried to be tactful, but she wanted the appropriate response. So I finally told her truthfully what I thought about them. She yelled at how ungrateful I was, about how many kids didn't have enough money to get new clothes and I should wear what she bought me instead of having an entire closet full of clothing gathering dust. I told her they were ugly, I didn't like them, and they weren't even in fashion anymore, but whether they were or not, I just wanted more jeans and tennis shoes. My dad came home to us screaming at each other but couldn't break up the fight. In a fit of desperation, my mom finally told me that if I wouldn't wear what she bought me, she would never buy me any new clothes again. So I yelled "Thank you, that's what I've been trying to get from you!" I had an after school job by then and was already buying my own clothing anyway. To this day, she will not buy clothes for me, but every once in a while we'll go shopping together, and if I find an outfit I like, she'll pay for it as a "birthday" gift.
Speaking of piano, I had to teach myself how to play piano because my mother refused to believe me that I was serious about it, and any endeavor into the "arts" was considered frivolous and a waste of money. After playing for several years on my own and showing marked signs of improvement, I finally talked her into a teacher. The teacher started me in the 4th year level of lessons and was shocked that I hadn't had lessons sooner.
I remember just recently, I created a flickr account for my nephew because he is actually quite a good photographer and I got him a digital camera for his birthday last year and I felt I should provide for him a place to store those photos, since I know my parents and his mother aren't taking the interest in his talent and are not encouraging him to pursue photography, certainly not to print his pictures or save them on his computer. I added his account to my friends list, and in my public photos there is a picture of me and![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
tacit kissing. It is a very sweet, close-mouthed kiss. In fact, we're both smiling while kissing, obviously aware of the camera. You can't even see the leash he has me on at all. I taught my mom how to log into his account since 1) he doesn't know how to do it himself and 2) he is only 10 years old ... he should have his guardians paying attention to his internet use. My mom saw the kissing picture and got upset. She asked me to take it down. She said she didn't like that my nephew would see something like that. I'm positive he has seen my parents give their usual little peck of a kiss, and most likely has seen his mother (my sister) kiss her boyfriend, and snuggle, and do any number of affectionate actions. I think it's healthy for children to see physical affection. I rarely did. And I have a complex about it now. It has taken me many years to come to terms with it, and during those years I did a lot of really emotionally-damaging things not understanding the whys and wherefores of these things, and I still have a lot of work to go. She has refused to let him access his account since. I plan to teach him how to do it himself when I visit this year.
I remember being disappointed every Christmas because I always received dolls and dresses and never received the transformers or tools or science kits I asked for. I remember my mother yelling at me because I never played with those dolls, they just sat on my shelf and didn't I appreciate that some kids didn't have enough money to have nice gifts?
Now, what put the burr under my saddle about my family at this moment? Well, it's the holidays, for one thing. I always visit my family for the holidays. My life was not horrible, as I said, I had parents that loved me and tried to do the best they could for me. They provided a great education for me, and inadvertently taught me the lesson of "intentional families", because I am adopted and not "of their blood"; to me, blood does not a family make. And I really miss my hometown. But year after year, I get more and more frustrated with my parents as I continue to grow and evolve and develop. I am becoming more and more secure in myself and who I am is definitely NOT mainstream "normal". I came out to my family several years ago and they *still* don't understand it. I can only surmise that they don't truly *want* to understand it, because my mom shies away from the really good, searching questions, and focuses only on those standard objections we all have been faced with ... abusive men talking women into things, not "real love", should settle down and have kids, bla bla bla.
But the actual spark that started this particularly long-winded fire is a specific situation. I have been living on my own for quite a few years now. I have lived with several partners. I currently share sleeping space with many of my friends, both for the convenience of spending the night before an out-of-town job closer to the worksite, and for the companionship. I am about to turn 30 years old. I am poly. I consider myself an "activist", regardless of not spending time on picket lines and having very few interviews to my credit. I am an out sex-positive adult who has been happily living a very independent life for the last handful of years. Growing up in captivity is chafing. But breaking free, then visiting of your own free will, only to have the shackles thrust upon you once again, is much much worse. I *felt* there was more to life then, even if I hadn't experienced it. Now I KNOW. And it hurts to have it taken away, even temporarily, even by choice.
With all this in mind, here is the situation. Back in high school, I had a good friend, male, whom I lost touch with after graduation. Last year, I sought him out, doing an exhaustive internet search until I tracked him down through his old fraternity brothers. We discovered that not only are we still friends, but we are even better friends now than before. We, as teenagers, were completely different people. Those people were friends. Now, as adults, we are not very much like our old teenage selves, but we have even more in common, and with age, we discovered we are more truthful both with ourselves and with each other, and we have developed the skills required to build a much more intimate friendship than before. What I would call a Friend-capital-F, as opposed to a "friend", what most people call their acquaintances when they don't want to use that bulky word.
So, he is a musician in Los Angeles now. He no longer has family in our hometown, but, like me, he misses it dreadfully. So when I told him I was coming home for the holidays, he decided he wanted to come up there to see me again. I asked my parents if he could stay with us, expecting them to deny me that privilege. I was prepared to stay those couple of days in a hotel nearby with him, to make my point, that he was someone important to me and that they have always been willing to open their home to female friends but not my male friends ... namely because they assume something "naughty" is going on just because they're male. But, to my surprise, they actually agreed to let him stay with us. I was very excited, thinking maybe my parents were finally showing signs of catching up to the modern era, that says adults can spend time together in "mixed company".
Then, on my last conversation with my mom, as we tried to iron out the details of my trip, my mom says she's concerned about where to put everyone. My parents have a 4 bedroom house. My parents have the master bedroom, my sister has a room, my nephew has his own room, and they have a spare room with a Day Bed with a trundle (two twin beds, one folded underneath the other when not in use). I ask what's wrong with the spare room. My mom tells me she's not comfortable with me sharing a room with a guy. She thinks that because I brought my ex bf home last year (not ex at the time), this year I am bringing a different guy, if I were to share the room with my friend, it would send the "wrong message" to my nephew. I tried to tell her that he is a 10 year old child, he won't think anything is wrong unless we give him reason to think something is wrong. The beds are separate so there should be no reason to construe anything "wrong" is going on for the 2 or 3 days he will be there. She couldn't give me any answer other than it wasn't "right" for a child to "see that sort of thing".
I have toyed with the idea of still getting a hotel room to make my point. Here's where my restrictive upbringing infringes. If I were actually dating him, it would be reasonable to insist we share a room. We are not dating, we do not intend to date, he is a Friend. Insisting that we share a room would, understandably, create the impression that there was "something" going on. True or not, for most of the world, including my family, the only reason for a mixed couple to share a bed is if they have a sexual relationship, whether they have sex in that bed or not. This is completely illogical. If I wanted to have sex with him, I wouldn't do it at night, with my parents in the room on one side and my 10 year old nephew on the other side. I'd wait until the house was empty or go somewhere else. And I would do this no matter who the guy was, Friend or boyfriend. Sharing sleeping space is, to me, both a very casual act and an intimate act that has nothing to do with sex. It both makes me feel closer to the other person, and requires no intentions, no expectations, no future, something akin to dancing or sharing a good movie. It's an act that can be done (by me) with people who are practically strangers all the way to my most intimate lovers, all with various degrees of enjoyment, all for different reasons.
So insisting that I have the right to share sleeping space with my friend in my mother's house is a battle I have to question if it's worth fighting. Sharing sleeping space with a lover is definitely worth fighting for. I treasure the physical closeness, it's one of my most favorite intimate acts to share with a lover. My loved ones are important to me and having that relationship acknowledged as part of acceptance of who I am is of utmost importance. If they refuse to accept me, I will cut ties because being true to myself and honoring my partners is more important that maintaining some link with strangers who don't accept me simply because I'm "supposed to" ... doing things because I'm "supposed to" is the motivation for most of my frustration with my family in the first place. Sharing sleeping space with a friend, because it is not automatically an intimate act, doesn't have the same hold for me. After all, they are offering their hospitality in the first place, allowing a guy I haven't seen in a decade to stay there for a few days. And I am trying to respect the fact that it is my family's home and they would be uncomfortable. But I *like* to make people uncomfortable, I like to push buttons, because usually those are buttons I feel need to be pushed, they need to re-examine their choices and their reasons for those choices because so many people simply do what they're told they are "supposed to" without ever knowing why and often it's not even a natural act for them anyway, they're just blindly following orders. So insisting that I share sleeping space with my friend, with whom I don't have that intimate connection with, would be solely for the principle of it. And I don't even know how important it is to my friend that he share his sleeping space with me.
My mother has control issues, she likes to be totally in control of her children and their lives. In that respect, I'm sure my sister and I are both huge disappointments for her. I dropped out of college and I work a manual labor job with no guaranteed hours, no insurance, no "security". My sister had a kid out of wedlock at age 16 and is still living at home, a single mother. My mom has always wanted to control everything, what I ate, when I slept, how I studied, when/how/where/who I dated, certainly when I had sex, my major in school, my career choices, my living choices ... there isn't a single thing about my life that I was ever allowed to decide on my own. Being the stubborn independent person that I am, I made the decisions anyway, but never because I was "allowed" to. When I had insomnia, my mom tried to make me go to bed early because she believed I "should" have a "normal" bedtime. When I would get sick and throw up from eating too much, she made me sit at the table until my plate was clean because I "should" eat that much, or that type of food (I gained 25 pounds). When my instructors believed in my ability to make a living in the entertainment industry and convinced me to switch majors away from my "safe traditional" courses, my mom cut off her financial support for school because she said she wouldn't support such an impractical choice. And now, as an adult, when I want to make the choice about who I can spend my time with and how, she will hold the ownership of the residence over my head to force me to acquiesce, and the only way I can insist on my right to choose is to not stay at her house, the consequences of which are spending unnecessary money and possibly escalating this spat into a full-out fight that could permanently damage or sever my ties. As I said, it's a consequence I'm willing to accept, for the right battle.
So here I am, burning with rage because my parents are once again being close-minded and accepting "the way things should be" without questioning why, and without accepting who *I* am, and it's not a clear-cut issue that I feel I can make a stand over. If I'm going to lose my family, I want it to be over something I truly believe in, that I hold with all my heart and mind is true and right to fight for. My family will not disown me because they do believe that you should love your family simply because they're family. They cling to the phrase "I love him/her because (s)he's family" and "I don't have to understand or accept their choices, but I will love them anyway" - yet another difference between them and me. No, if I lose my family, it will be because *I* have decided it's too much effort to maintain contact. I am aware that most of my choices in life are not understood or accepted by my family, and living 3000 miles away, it's easy for me to go about my life and not have it interfere with my ability to keep in contact with my family. But I know that at any time, my choices could separate me from my family, and living truthfully is worth it to me. I'm completely willing to accept that separation, but is this situation really the right reason? I don't think it is, so instead I sit here, pissed off because my family is too narrow-minded, too "old fashioned", too SJ, too mundane, to understand me and I will lose an experience that I think I should have the right to have.
My mom was endlessly puzzled and frustrated because I hated dresses and dressed like a "boy". She forced dolls and kitchen gadgets on me for toys, repeatedly denying my christmas requests for legos, tinker toys, G.I. Joes, Hot Wheels, youth science kits, power tools, etc. My dad enjoyed taking me hunting and teaching me how to drive, and even gave me a rifle when I was a kid, but then thought better of it when I asked to take it with me when I moved out as an adult, feigning forgetfulness at the gift, claiming he had never given me a gun.
My parents wanted nothing more than for me to excel at being "normal". They hated that I hung around with all guys, they thought I should have a small circle of female friends, one best female friend, all of whom got good grades and planned to go to college, get married, and have kids. When I started thinking more and more about boys and sex, my mom wanted me to see a therapist. They refused to let me fully participate in the joke of a drama department at school, letting me audition for the plays, but resenting the number of hours I spent dancing and rehearsing, refusing me singing lessons and threatening to remove me from the play if my grades weren't kept above a 3.5 (which they always were). When the cast had their cast parties, I wasn't allowed to go because I would be out "too late" ... nice girls didn't stay out all hours of the night and they certainly didn't go to co-ed parties where there were no adults (never mind that these "parties" were at the nearest 24 diner after the show ended, not a private residence). My parents also refused to let me have boys in my room. Considering that I didn't have any female friends, and my Nintendo was in my room, let's just say it was difficult to legitimately entertain my friends. But girls could come over, and even share my bed if they slept over. I did point out to them that if I were gay, all they had feared would happen by their own insistence. They ignored the comment.
I notice I'm rambling and jumping all over the place in subjects. I'm angry. I'm frustrated. I'm besieged with random images from my childhood that emphasize my confined upbringing. There was the time I wanted to take my very good friend to our formal charity ball in high school. It was called the Black And White Ball (because that term means "formal event", as in tuxedo black and white). My friend was black. I didn't really notice other than I would notice, say, someone's hair or eye color. My mom grounded me to keep me from going unless I chose a different date. I couldn't get another date last minute and had to work the dance serving drinks, instead of attending as a guest. I thought at the time it meant she was racist, which really pissed me off because she, herself, participated in an interracial marriage. What I learned later, was that she was trying to "protect" me from the backlash she was sure would find me, based on her experiences marrying a white man (she's mexican) back in the early '70s. Had I a daughter, I would first educate her as to what she might expect, then encourage her to be true to herself, make her choices, and live with them proudly, to stand up for what she believed in in the face of hatred and anger and controversy. Why would anyone want to protect someone from experiencing life? They would miss out on so much that is wonderful, and they would miss out on learning the very important lessons one learns when life isn't so wonderful.
I remember my mom throwing a fit because I was 18 and graduating high school and I informed her that I was taking a "senior trip", a week-long road trip, that included my male and female friends who had also graduated with me. She refused to let me go. I told her I was an adult and she no longer had any power over me. Her response was, predictably, "While you live in my house, you will live by my rules". When I asked for a reason why that made sense, she always responded with "because I'm the mother, that's why" and "stop being so argumentative". Asking why isn't, IMO, arguing at all.
I remember after I "came out" to my mom about poly, I insisted on bringing home the other two members of my triad for the holidays, a male and a female. My mother insisted that he sleep in a different room, but she and I could sleep together. And yes, I did tell her I was dating the girl too. And yes, I was living with both of them. Did I mention I was 27 years old at the time? But it was "inappropriate" to share the room with him, yet not "inappropriate" to share the room with her ... she apparently ignored the possibility that having lesbian sex in her guest room would be more "inappropriate" than having vanilla sex with my boyfriend (of course she doesn't get homosexuality either).
I remember being 19 years old and having a curfew. I had to be in by 12:30 AM, no matter what day of the week it was, whether I was able to get up to work and school on time every day, even no matter that I was PAYING THEM RENT! Discussion and negotiation were refused. The only way I could get out of a curfew was to move out of the house. Which I did following a fight that turned physical as my mother tried to restrain me from leaving the house to go on a date because I had broken curfew the night before.
I remember being 20 years old, living with my then-fiance, and planning a trip to Reno for my 21st birthday. He and I were to sleep over at my parents house the night before we were to drive up, so we could leave very early in the morning and it would be more convenient to have us all in one location. My mother refused to let me share the guest room with my fiance. Her reason? It's disrespectful and she won't have it in her house.
I remember dating my high school sweetie and his parents were very well off and also quite "progressive". They invited me on several vacations. I was not allowed to go until my parents called his parents to make sure they would be present. His parents let us share a room. They just didn't tell my parents that. They also had to emphasize that "all the kids" (meaning his sister and her female friend that accompanied us) would also have the "kids room" and they would be next door with the connecting door open. Apparently having teenagers sleep in a room with the parents' sleeping room open to them *wasn't* inappropriate.
I remember being 12 years old and practicing the piano. My mom came home with a brand new pair of brightly colored culottes for me. I was not enthusiastic. I tried to be tactful, but she wanted the appropriate response. So I finally told her truthfully what I thought about them. She yelled at how ungrateful I was, about how many kids didn't have enough money to get new clothes and I should wear what she bought me instead of having an entire closet full of clothing gathering dust. I told her they were ugly, I didn't like them, and they weren't even in fashion anymore, but whether they were or not, I just wanted more jeans and tennis shoes. My dad came home to us screaming at each other but couldn't break up the fight. In a fit of desperation, my mom finally told me that if I wouldn't wear what she bought me, she would never buy me any new clothes again. So I yelled "Thank you, that's what I've been trying to get from you!" I had an after school job by then and was already buying my own clothing anyway. To this day, she will not buy clothes for me, but every once in a while we'll go shopping together, and if I find an outfit I like, she'll pay for it as a "birthday" gift.
Speaking of piano, I had to teach myself how to play piano because my mother refused to believe me that I was serious about it, and any endeavor into the "arts" was considered frivolous and a waste of money. After playing for several years on my own and showing marked signs of improvement, I finally talked her into a teacher. The teacher started me in the 4th year level of lessons and was shocked that I hadn't had lessons sooner.
I remember just recently, I created a flickr account for my nephew because he is actually quite a good photographer and I got him a digital camera for his birthday last year and I felt I should provide for him a place to store those photos, since I know my parents and his mother aren't taking the interest in his talent and are not encouraging him to pursue photography, certainly not to print his pictures or save them on his computer. I added his account to my friends list, and in my public photos there is a picture of me and
tacit kissing. It is a very sweet, close-mouthed kiss. In fact, we're both smiling while kissing, obviously aware of the camera. You can't even see the leash he has me on at all. I taught my mom how to log into his account since 1) he doesn't know how to do it himself and 2) he is only 10 years old ... he should have his guardians paying attention to his internet use. My mom saw the kissing picture and got upset. She asked me to take it down. She said she didn't like that my nephew would see something like that. I'm positive he has seen my parents give their usual little peck of a kiss, and most likely has seen his mother (my sister) kiss her boyfriend, and snuggle, and do any number of affectionate actions. I think it's healthy for children to see physical affection. I rarely did. And I have a complex about it now. It has taken me many years to come to terms with it, and during those years I did a lot of really emotionally-damaging things not understanding the whys and wherefores of these things, and I still have a lot of work to go. She has refused to let him access his account since. I plan to teach him how to do it himself when I visit this year.I remember being disappointed every Christmas because I always received dolls and dresses and never received the transformers or tools or science kits I asked for. I remember my mother yelling at me because I never played with those dolls, they just sat on my shelf and didn't I appreciate that some kids didn't have enough money to have nice gifts?
Now, what put the burr under my saddle about my family at this moment? Well, it's the holidays, for one thing. I always visit my family for the holidays. My life was not horrible, as I said, I had parents that loved me and tried to do the best they could for me. They provided a great education for me, and inadvertently taught me the lesson of "intentional families", because I am adopted and not "of their blood"; to me, blood does not a family make. And I really miss my hometown. But year after year, I get more and more frustrated with my parents as I continue to grow and evolve and develop. I am becoming more and more secure in myself and who I am is definitely NOT mainstream "normal". I came out to my family several years ago and they *still* don't understand it. I can only surmise that they don't truly *want* to understand it, because my mom shies away from the really good, searching questions, and focuses only on those standard objections we all have been faced with ... abusive men talking women into things, not "real love", should settle down and have kids, bla bla bla.
But the actual spark that started this particularly long-winded fire is a specific situation. I have been living on my own for quite a few years now. I have lived with several partners. I currently share sleeping space with many of my friends, both for the convenience of spending the night before an out-of-town job closer to the worksite, and for the companionship. I am about to turn 30 years old. I am poly. I consider myself an "activist", regardless of not spending time on picket lines and having very few interviews to my credit. I am an out sex-positive adult who has been happily living a very independent life for the last handful of years. Growing up in captivity is chafing. But breaking free, then visiting of your own free will, only to have the shackles thrust upon you once again, is much much worse. I *felt* there was more to life then, even if I hadn't experienced it. Now I KNOW. And it hurts to have it taken away, even temporarily, even by choice.
With all this in mind, here is the situation. Back in high school, I had a good friend, male, whom I lost touch with after graduation. Last year, I sought him out, doing an exhaustive internet search until I tracked him down through his old fraternity brothers. We discovered that not only are we still friends, but we are even better friends now than before. We, as teenagers, were completely different people. Those people were friends. Now, as adults, we are not very much like our old teenage selves, but we have even more in common, and with age, we discovered we are more truthful both with ourselves and with each other, and we have developed the skills required to build a much more intimate friendship than before. What I would call a Friend-capital-F, as opposed to a "friend", what most people call their acquaintances when they don't want to use that bulky word.
So, he is a musician in Los Angeles now. He no longer has family in our hometown, but, like me, he misses it dreadfully. So when I told him I was coming home for the holidays, he decided he wanted to come up there to see me again. I asked my parents if he could stay with us, expecting them to deny me that privilege. I was prepared to stay those couple of days in a hotel nearby with him, to make my point, that he was someone important to me and that they have always been willing to open their home to female friends but not my male friends ... namely because they assume something "naughty" is going on just because they're male. But, to my surprise, they actually agreed to let him stay with us. I was very excited, thinking maybe my parents were finally showing signs of catching up to the modern era, that says adults can spend time together in "mixed company".
Then, on my last conversation with my mom, as we tried to iron out the details of my trip, my mom says she's concerned about where to put everyone. My parents have a 4 bedroom house. My parents have the master bedroom, my sister has a room, my nephew has his own room, and they have a spare room with a Day Bed with a trundle (two twin beds, one folded underneath the other when not in use). I ask what's wrong with the spare room. My mom tells me she's not comfortable with me sharing a room with a guy. She thinks that because I brought my ex bf home last year (not ex at the time), this year I am bringing a different guy, if I were to share the room with my friend, it would send the "wrong message" to my nephew. I tried to tell her that he is a 10 year old child, he won't think anything is wrong unless we give him reason to think something is wrong. The beds are separate so there should be no reason to construe anything "wrong" is going on for the 2 or 3 days he will be there. She couldn't give me any answer other than it wasn't "right" for a child to "see that sort of thing".
I have toyed with the idea of still getting a hotel room to make my point. Here's where my restrictive upbringing infringes. If I were actually dating him, it would be reasonable to insist we share a room. We are not dating, we do not intend to date, he is a Friend. Insisting that we share a room would, understandably, create the impression that there was "something" going on. True or not, for most of the world, including my family, the only reason for a mixed couple to share a bed is if they have a sexual relationship, whether they have sex in that bed or not. This is completely illogical. If I wanted to have sex with him, I wouldn't do it at night, with my parents in the room on one side and my 10 year old nephew on the other side. I'd wait until the house was empty or go somewhere else. And I would do this no matter who the guy was, Friend or boyfriend. Sharing sleeping space is, to me, both a very casual act and an intimate act that has nothing to do with sex. It both makes me feel closer to the other person, and requires no intentions, no expectations, no future, something akin to dancing or sharing a good movie. It's an act that can be done (by me) with people who are practically strangers all the way to my most intimate lovers, all with various degrees of enjoyment, all for different reasons.
So insisting that I have the right to share sleeping space with my friend in my mother's house is a battle I have to question if it's worth fighting. Sharing sleeping space with a lover is definitely worth fighting for. I treasure the physical closeness, it's one of my most favorite intimate acts to share with a lover. My loved ones are important to me and having that relationship acknowledged as part of acceptance of who I am is of utmost importance. If they refuse to accept me, I will cut ties because being true to myself and honoring my partners is more important that maintaining some link with strangers who don't accept me simply because I'm "supposed to" ... doing things because I'm "supposed to" is the motivation for most of my frustration with my family in the first place. Sharing sleeping space with a friend, because it is not automatically an intimate act, doesn't have the same hold for me. After all, they are offering their hospitality in the first place, allowing a guy I haven't seen in a decade to stay there for a few days. And I am trying to respect the fact that it is my family's home and they would be uncomfortable. But I *like* to make people uncomfortable, I like to push buttons, because usually those are buttons I feel need to be pushed, they need to re-examine their choices and their reasons for those choices because so many people simply do what they're told they are "supposed to" without ever knowing why and often it's not even a natural act for them anyway, they're just blindly following orders. So insisting that I share sleeping space with my friend, with whom I don't have that intimate connection with, would be solely for the principle of it. And I don't even know how important it is to my friend that he share his sleeping space with me.
My mother has control issues, she likes to be totally in control of her children and their lives. In that respect, I'm sure my sister and I are both huge disappointments for her. I dropped out of college and I work a manual labor job with no guaranteed hours, no insurance, no "security". My sister had a kid out of wedlock at age 16 and is still living at home, a single mother. My mom has always wanted to control everything, what I ate, when I slept, how I studied, when/how/where/who I dated, certainly when I had sex, my major in school, my career choices, my living choices ... there isn't a single thing about my life that I was ever allowed to decide on my own. Being the stubborn independent person that I am, I made the decisions anyway, but never because I was "allowed" to. When I had insomnia, my mom tried to make me go to bed early because she believed I "should" have a "normal" bedtime. When I would get sick and throw up from eating too much, she made me sit at the table until my plate was clean because I "should" eat that much, or that type of food (I gained 25 pounds). When my instructors believed in my ability to make a living in the entertainment industry and convinced me to switch majors away from my "safe traditional" courses, my mom cut off her financial support for school because she said she wouldn't support such an impractical choice. And now, as an adult, when I want to make the choice about who I can spend my time with and how, she will hold the ownership of the residence over my head to force me to acquiesce, and the only way I can insist on my right to choose is to not stay at her house, the consequences of which are spending unnecessary money and possibly escalating this spat into a full-out fight that could permanently damage or sever my ties. As I said, it's a consequence I'm willing to accept, for the right battle.
So here I am, burning with rage because my parents are once again being close-minded and accepting "the way things should be" without questioning why, and without accepting who *I* am, and it's not a clear-cut issue that I feel I can make a stand over. If I'm going to lose my family, I want it to be over something I truly believe in, that I hold with all my heart and mind is true and right to fight for. My family will not disown me because they do believe that you should love your family simply because they're family. They cling to the phrase "I love him/her because (s)he's family" and "I don't have to understand or accept their choices, but I will love them anyway" - yet another difference between them and me. No, if I lose my family, it will be because *I* have decided it's too much effort to maintain contact. I am aware that most of my choices in life are not understood or accepted by my family, and living 3000 miles away, it's easy for me to go about my life and not have it interfere with my ability to keep in contact with my family. But I know that at any time, my choices could separate me from my family, and living truthfully is worth it to me. I'm completely willing to accept that separation, but is this situation really the right reason? I don't think it is, so instead I sit here, pissed off because my family is too narrow-minded, too "old fashioned", too SJ, too mundane, to understand me and I will lose an experience that I think I should have the right to have.
no subject
Date: 12/7/06 05:13 pm (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 12/8/06 01:50 am (UTC)From:On those occasions when she has a few glasses too many some of her REAL feelings about things she at least pretends to be open minded about at other times come out LOL.
My father's the drunk.