The Gay Divorcée

Theme song: Funky Crime

I remember, pretty recently, when I used to be straight.

In fact I always believed that people, all people -- and that includes you! -- should be what I think my queer friends call "fluid." I mean, I stand against deciding, in advance, who you will love.

Love is a Mystery

After all, love is a mystery and cannot be predicted or controlled. So why try?

This was, of course, all pretty theoretical until the demise of my 22 year old relationship. I wasn't taking many trips to the local lesbian hangouts and, not being much of a barfly, I surely didn't think I was missing out!

And, true, I was sporting my own form of homophobia. On the one hand, I thought being gay would be inconvenient. I mean, won't they kill you for that s***? Plus, it seemed like everyone in San Francisco was gay. I was like, you can't get away from these people!

For the most part, though, I didn't give my sexuality much thought as I unknowingly basked in heterosexual privilege. Ah, the joys of heterosexual privilege. So lush. So creamy. But I digress.

Gender is a Construct

What happened next, ironically, is that I fell head over heels in love with a transgender. At first I was resistant. I mean, if the kids thought "she" was obviously a woman (and you know how honest kids can be!) and, well, by look and feel, I thought so, too. . . .Why didn't she?!

But "she" was patient with me and even put up with the little stint I went through calling myself a man. Because, I figured, if she didn't have to be a woman well, then, neither did I.

I came to understand that yes, indeed, gender is a social construct that can be used for good, evil, fun and/or profit.

I think of the "ladies" in my old neighborhood.

Classically, my ex-husband's dad, on a visit to our Tenderloin home, commented on one, "She sure has legs that go all the way to the floor (leering optional)."

In order to avoid a midnight rendez-vous gone awry, we had to tell him, "And that's not all, Daddio. . . ." And so the story of gender can be very sad in a world that encourages, even demands, conformity.

I have not doubted own my gender. I feel like a woman (warm, tingly, juicy and fun although perhaps irritated and maybe sure the world will end right around ovulation and menstruation. . . .) and am proud to be a woman.

Sorry, boys. Women rule! It can't be helped, along with the fact that San Francisco is the best city in the world and my children are the best there are -- except for yours.

Alrightie, I got past that chauvinistic tirade. . . .are you still with me?

"Soft" Homophobia

Okay. So today the main form of homophobia I face is the idea, among certain friends and family members, that this whole "lesbian" thing is kind of a joke. "Ha! That Anna, she'll try anything." Or: "Are you sure this isn't a phase?" My personal favorite: "When you get bored you'll go back to c***." Er, excuse me?

I haven't minded it because I like a little ambiguity surrounding my sexuality. It feels, frankly, safer. And I hate being forced into categories. Like, it's really boring to try to figure out if I am "gay," "bi," "butch," or "hella queeny." (Okay, I made that last one up myself because, ssshhh, in private I think of myself as Queen Colibri, though I'm usually thinking royalty, not bitchy, femmed-out gay man. Seriously, though, can't you see me walking around with just a small crown, claiming my glory?)

Out With Labels

Okkaayyy. . . .fine. I'll take time out (get it?) to talk label. So, "heterosexual" is barely a label because it's the default. When you're heterosexual you get to bask in the above privilege and live (practically speaking) luxuriously label free.

Since I cannot escape being labeled, I like "queer." Reason is, it can be applied to anyone (yes, you!) from my former boss who, as a result of being born by cesarean, could proudly claim he had never (ooooh, gross!) touched a vagina to those who, while not "gay" themselves, sincerely love gay people. It's an inclusive term and I like that.

Minor Heartbreak

As you know, this blog is about heartbreak and I will get to heartbreak in a minute. In the meantime, here are some relatively minor complaints about what I don't like about being queer:

• You'll call me shallow, but queer women of a certain age are said to lack fashion sense. I don't like that!
• I don't like being put in the position of having to reveal something about myself that should be private or irrelevant.
• Any concern I feel that my children could be harmed, hurt or even inconvenienced by my queerness.
• Being labeled (see above).
• An elevated possibility that I could be harmed physically, verbally, socially or financially. I mean, who needs it?

And here is what I like about being queer:

• My queer friends have open, tolerant, worldly and creative attitudes and world views.
• Feeling greater levels of equality and intimacy in relationship.
• Labels aside, not "choosing" how love should be makes me feel free.
• I see the world, and everyone in it, with a clearer and more compassionate vision than when I was living straight.
• Dare I say it? Sssshhh! Don't tell anyone I told you, but lesbian sex is hot (Yikes! I made myself blush. But there's no denyin' it's satisfyin.').

It is scary, though, to think that there are now more people in the world who, without knowing me, would righteously believe I should dead, in jail or in hell. Dude! Those are some bad vibes!

Major Heartbreak

While in San Francisco that truth can seem far away and unreal, it's there in the children who commit suicide as a result of gay bashing, the lack of marriage equality, innocent people being beaten, and the countries that leave laws on their books that make being gay an offense punishable by death.

As I have become queer, my friend set has changed. Now I sometimes lunch with all kinds of ladies.

And this is where heartbreak has emerged. I now have several friends who have been driven from, or fled, their homes and families as a result of homophobia and the fear, hate and violence that goes along with it.

I'm tempted to write homophobia off as a f***ing waste of time, but I can't because it wounds and even kills. And, as it wounds and kills, it creates a web of shame, anger, fear, grief and self-loathing that permeates our society as a whole and makes us sick.

Coming out of the closet seems like a strong phrase for a middle aged women in post millennial San Francisco, but it is what I, as a result of social structures bigger than myself, have had to do.

To Our Future, With Love

I imagine a future in which there are no closets and the unspoken understanding is that we honor and cherish true love in all its forms.

Until that time, integrity and solidarity require that I live, a little reluctantly, with the label "queer" and all it stands for.

This post is dedicated with love to all beings who have suffered homophobia -- either as victims or perpetrators -- and with gratitude to all freedom fighters.

Your Turn

Are you queer? Tell us why, or why not, in the comments.