Full disclosure: I originally wrote this for another writing platform I’ve been experimenting with, but it wasn’t getting a lot of traction there. And, attention-seeker that I am, I just wasn’t having that! So, I decided to share it here with you, my faithful Baronettes, who I know will appreciate it and give me the Like and Comments I so desperately need.
I don’t feel that belonging to one marginalized group, the LGBTQ+ community, makes me some kind of expert on what it’s like to be a member of another marginalized group. Hell, I don’t even feel like I know what it’s like to be another person from my own ever-expanding group—which I believe now is formally known as the LGBTQQIAPP+ community.
For those not in the know, that stands for Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender, Queer, Questioning, Intersex, Asexual, Pansexual, and Polysexual. And, of course, the little “+” means there are still more orientations and genders not represented in the alphabet soup we’ve become. Continue reading →
More than once in the very recent past I’ve seen an online comment featuring some variation of the “I don’t care what people do in their private life as long as they’re not all up in my grill with it” sentiment. In other words, “I don’t care if you’re gay, as long as you’re not all gay about it.”
Just today I was told, “You want to talk about the gay stuff be gay don’t flaunt it.” Despite the lack of punctuation, I understand what he’s saying. And I also don’t. I can see how some people would consider our Pride Parades flaunting it. I mean, some of the entries can be fairly outrageous and might be shocking to the heteronormative community. And perhaps two fellows dressed in assless chaps and short-shorts making out in the Home Goods section of the Boise, ID Wal-Mart would also be seen as flaunting it.
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Unless you’re in grade school or younger (and if you are, please log off — this blog is not for you), there are things that make you realize you’re getting older.
In junior high your body changes. In high school, you get the driver’s license experience. In your twenties, you have college or moving out on your own. Or the pressure to move out. Or the begging and pleading and cajoling to a please move the fuck out already!
Then you turn thirty and everything starts making you feel old. You stop getting carded in bars. Baristas start calling you “ma ‘am.” You sit down to watch the Grammys and have no idea who anyone is.
I also understand that for heterosexuals the clock starts tick-tocking on when you’ll get married and start reproducing. I did not experience this, because when I was that age, marriage equality wasn’t even on the horizon. Perhaps now that it exists, thirty-something lesbians and gay men feel the same pressure to get married, but I haven’t seen any studies or the matter, so I can’t be sure.
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