96. More thoughts...

So, you'll never guess where I am right now (that is, if any of you are left... I know I've been neglectful). I'm not home, although I am in Ottawa. Right now, at this very moment I am writing to you from the home of... oh, I just realized I can't remember their names. I'm house sitting for some friends of a friend of mine. This, of course, is not all that interesting, except that this home I'm in right now is the home of two happily married lesbians and their darling little girl. At least, I think they're happy. They look happy in their pictures (but of course, doesn't everyone?), and my friend gave no indication that they might be otherwise.

I found myself looking around thier (beautiful!) home yesterday, to see how happily married lesbians live. Not snooping, at least, I don't think I snooped. I looked at books on bookshelves, and pictures on walls... CDs, DVDs, that kind of stuff. Nothing too dramatic, I'm afraid. They have a couple of seasons of The L Word on DVD, and quite a few Indigo Girls CDs. They also have two copies of Fumbling Towards Ecstacy by Sarah McLachlan, which is only interesting to me because I also have two copies of that particular CD, having once travelled far away from home only to discover that I had forgotten to bring it with me and rather than simply do without, I bought a new one. I do love that CD.

I don't have much to report about this, really. I like their home, it's very nice -- they're both obviously doing quite well financially. I can say that being in their home and seeing how -- for lack of a better word -- normal it is, I'm very glad that I can call them married without having to put quotes around that particular word. They are, in fact, truly married, and I think that's a good thing -- whatever the case may be for Christians and gay marriage, just being in their home has reaffirmed for me that I think it's a good thing that this couple has the same rights and status (as least as far as the law is concerned) as any other couple.

Anyway, I have meant to continue with documenting some of the experiences I had while travelling, but my life has kind of gotten in my way. It's nice to be home and among friends. I've managed to get some part time work, and for those of you who pray I would appreciate some prayers in that area. I still want to head back to Korea, but some cash right now would not go amiss. Actually, while I'm asking for prayer, you could pray for my health as well. Oh, I'm not sick or anything, but I have discovered that I will be needing surgery for something that is not all that serious but that needs to be rectified. This, of course, has put a slight wrench in my plans to be back in Korea by September, surgery wait times and recovery times being what they are... but it must be done. Heh, something else that makes me grateful to be Canadian... gay marriage and free health care! It's good to be home.

Anyway, I think I'll try and write out some what happened while I was in the US with my mom. So... as I mentioned I ended my "world tour" with a little time with my mother... unavoidable, it turned out. Well... unavoidable without starting a huge fight. We met in New York, went to two shows and headed over to Pennsylvania to visit one of my aunts (a great aunt, or cousin, or some such... one of those people I'm related to, but honestly, I'm not sure how).

You wouldn't think 'gay stuff' would come up while visiting with my aged aunt in her retirement community, but... well, it did. My aunt brought up the old governer of New Jersey -- the gay one (I don't know much about American politics, I'm afraid... at least not much about what isn't covered on The Daily Show). We were suddenly in the midst of a debate. Well, at least my mom seemed to think it was a debate, my aunt kept trying to change the subject, or at least end the conversation but my mom was determined to say her piece and be absolutely sure that her and my aunt were in agreement. It would have been funny to watch if it wasn't for the fact that... well, I'm gay, and my mom knows... although, as I said it seems she may have forgotten.

My mom brought up a conversation she'd had with a minister in Toronto who had included an invitation to the gay pride parade in his church buliten. Apparantly his response to my mom's question or why he would do that was "Well, there's not much about it in the Bible, and I think that there's not enough love in the world as it is."

Her face then was painted with an incredulous expression, "Not a lot??? What does he mean? It's so blatant!"

I did not challenge her on that for obvious reasons, but I really don't think she's thought about it that much.

My aunt then went on to try and explain that she has compassion for "those people", and to bring up another distant relative who had shown "those tendancies" from when he was "yea high". My mom jumped on that with an 'explanation' that included learning in the womb, being rejected (ie: if your mother wanted a boy and got a girl instead, then it's possible that your fetal spirit received that and when you are born you try to become what your mother wanted... I hope I'm explaining that right). And then she went on to cite a man at her church who 'used to be high up in the gay community' (what on earth does that mean???) who is now 'married and has children and is happy and everything!', who gave a talk at her church about how everyone he has ever counseled with 'that condition' has an issue with their father... poor fathering, abandoned, abused, etc... which, I'm sure is what is in her head as an explanation for me (if, indeed, she even remembers).

Then there was the weird part where my aunt and my mom were talking at complete cross purposes.

Mom: I think we need to just see things as God sees them.

Aunt: That's right.

Mom: So...

Aunt: ... and I think God looks on us with love and compassion.

Mom: ...uh, well, I think God has said that somethings are wrong and are sin and we need to see it that way.

Aunt: ...well, I didn't say that I think it's right, I just think that we should have compassion.

Mom: Sin is sin. There isn't 'this sin' and 'that sin'. It's all sin.

Aunt: Exactly. We're no worse than they are. We all sin.

Mom: No, what I mean is that things are becoming hazy. It's not black and white anymore. It's all creamy and grey and there is no distinction.

Aunt: Well, it's not like I think they're doing right, I just think we need to have compassion and know that we all sin.

Mom: ... (she gave up somewhere around this point).

Of course, my mom is notorious for not realizing that people can disagree with her... expecially Christians. For her, the idea that there are Christians out there who don't believe that Bush was appointed by God to sit on the throne comes as a shock. (Heh, the political discussion between my Aunt -- who is an older black American lady... very very much a Democrat -- and my mom was hilarious! My aunt calling Bush a 'stupid, foolish man', and my mom going red in the face! Heehee!!!)

My mom tried a couple of times during our stay with my Aunt to get her to say something a little more condemning about gay people but my Aunt just wouldn't do it. She would go as far as "I think it's a sin, and I think it's wrong," and my mom would sigh in relief, but then my Aunt would continue with something like "but I don't think I understand everything. I think some people may disagree with me and I think that might be okay. I don't know everything." And my mom would scowl in frustration. During one of their conversations (during which I was quite mute) my Aunt told a story about an old doctor friend of hers who was completely homophobic and used to complain to her and her husband about a 'girly-boy' patient of his that he hated. He would come to my aunt's house and mimic this patient and say hateful things about him... and then the man died, and this doctor performed the autopsy and, to quote my aunt "wouldn't you know it... found a pair of ovaries in him! So, you see, we can't know everything. From that point on I decided it wasn't my place to judge any person for being that way."

My mom, of course, tried to dismiss this case as an anomaly, using the same argument that I've read in quite a few books on the Side B side of this argument... that we can't use anomalies as a reason to dismiss the law, and I admit that this argument has some merit, but what proponents of this argument fail to see is that those anomalies are actual people, with souls that are as valuable to God as any other soul. And to use an evangelical cliche, if that man with ovaries... or any one who is intersexed in anyway... had been the only man on earth, Christ still would have died for him. Which means that somehow, the Bible, the law, must apply to them. And to dismiss them from the argument completely is a cop out.

Anyway, once again, I hope to not abandon this blog for so long again. I haven't even gotten around to catching up on all of my blog buddies blogs (heh, say that 10 times fast!). That's a somewhat daunting task, but I'm determined to do it!

Mucho love to all of you!

95. New York

Alright, so here I will begin with part 2 of my chronological journey through my blog thoughts.

So, I ended my European excursion by flying to New York, where I met my mom and spent a week with her – 2 days actually in New York. Being a person who loves (LOVES) shows and musicals, I insisted that we see at least one show while we were there (I will not tell you how many times I went to the theater in London on the grounds that… well, it would be embarrassing). I actually very much wanted to see Wicked, having seen it in London and loved it (it’s my new favourite show) and I wanted to see the New York production… I like the idea of seeing the same story played out by different actors. My mom, on the other hand, had heard good things about The Color Purple, which made me very nervous. This may cause you some confusion, because, as I noted in a recent blog entry, The Color Purple is my favourite movie. If my mom hadn’t been there, The Color Purple would have been very high on my list of shows to see, it’s just that… well, it is my favourite movie, I’ve seen it many times… and I’ve read the book. The movie is fairly clear in expressing how the two main female characters have a lesbian relationship (incidentally, this is in no way the reason for this movie being my favourite), but I suppose if you chose to you can ignore this fact (it’s amazing how many people do). But I have also read the book, and the book is explicitly clear about the relationship between Miss Celie and Shug Avery. Miss Celie is a lesbian, Shug is bisexual, and they have a long term relationship that actually carries over into some of Alice Walkers other books (I went through an Alice Walker phase a few years back). So, when my mom suggested this particular show to me, I got nervous, because I didn’t know which end of the spectrum the musical would take… would it sort of skirt around the whole lesbian thing? Or would it be explicit… maybe somewhere in the middle? Where ever it landed on the whole ‘gay spectrum’ I was pretty certain I wasn’t going to enjoy sitting next to my mom during the show.

She was insistent, however (and in case you’re wondering, we reached a ‘compromise’ by going to both shows… an expensive compromise, to be sure), and so we went. And I was right, it was uncomfortable. It didn’t help that the first thing I did was look through the playbill at the song list to try see if I could determine how gay the show was going to be by the song titles. It didn’t really help me figure that out, but one of the songs in the show is called “Push Da Button”, and like I’ve said, I read the book, and knew exactly what that song was going to be about. I don’t think anyone would like the idea of sitting next to their mother during a song about… well, if you don’t know, I’m not going to spell it out for you.

So, where did the musical land on the ‘gay spectrum’? Much closer to the book than the movie, by which I mean it was extremely clear that Miss Celie was a lesbian, and her relationship with Shug was very much in the forefront. At one point I was actually afraid my mom was going to make a scene or walk out… I sat there praying that she would at least wait until the intermission to express her disgust. But aside from not clapping at the end of the big lesbian love song, she made no comment.

And at the end of the show, she jumped up and applauded long and loud, even shouting out an “Amen!”. As we walked out, she exclaimed “Wow, that was as good as going to church!” I was stunned. As I said to my good friend, “it’s like she just blocked out all the dykey bits!” She kept pointing out how she could see the actresses mouthing “Thank you Jesus” at the end (which is true, we had excellent seats, and could totally see what Fantasia was saying at the end, which was cool). And I cannot deny that it is an incredibly affirming and spiritually moving show, it is… I enjoyed it… go see it if you can. But seriously, my mom? The anti-gay crusader… she should have been all over that. But I wasn’t about to point that out to her so I left it alone.

The next day, we were walking down 8th Ave when she turned to me and said “You know, I woke up last night thinking about The Color Purple… it suddenly occurred to me that it could be a subtle advertisement for homosexuality.”

I stopped walking and just stared at her because… well, first, an advertisement? Seriously? No one who knows anything about the story could see it as an advertisement for anything really, no one is going to watch that show and think “Man, that looks like a good life, I think I’ll be a lesbian like Miss Celie…” I mean, come on! That’s just insane. But, to be honest, what shocked me more was her use of the word ‘subtle’. And she realized that almost immediately because she corrected herself. “Well, it wasn’t really all that subtle, was it?” I could only shake my head. She went on to say “well, at least it tried to explain it, you know, explain homosexuality in a new and different way.”

Again, there was nothing to say to that. The “explanation” that I’m assuming she saw was hardly ‘new and different’, it’s what conservative Christians have been saying for years… the only explanation that they can come up with for lesbianism (the Freudian explanations they use for male homosexuality seem to fall short, even to them, when it comes to women) is sexual abuse, or to use a quaint phrase I once read on one of those books “the misbehavior of men”. I, of course, being the coward that I am, said nothing at all in response to anything she said as she went on trying to justify the fact that she liked this show that showed a lesbian relationship in a positive light. A later conversation between her and my aunt (whom we went to visit after New York) went on to say that Miss Celie was so desperate for love, and Shug just wanted to ‘bless’ her… which, seriously, I wouldn’t mind a blessing like that! Just kidding. Sort of. But whatever my mom needed to do to get around it, it was weird.

And, as our conversations continued, it became quite clear that my mom has either forgotten that I’m gay, or has decided that I’m not gay anymore or something like that. She had stopped making reference to my ‘future husband’ after a conversation we had a few years ago where I told her flat out that I didn’t think I would ever marry a man and would appreciate it if she stopped trying to force that on me. But she told me, while we were out for lunch somewhere in New York that she has been praying for me to meet ‘a nice older man, I don’t know why I think he should be older, that just seems right to me’. Of course, that might have had something to do with the fact that she saw a ‘nice, older man’ start a conversation with me in a restaurant and thought that he was hitting on me, which I doubt, I just have some sort of weird personality quirk that makes strangers talk to me – male and female. I don’t know what it is, it just happens, and I doubt this man was hitting on me, but even if he was, well, I just am not interested. But back to my mom and the whole ‘gay amnesia’ thing. I don’t think I’ll come out to her again, I’ve had that conversation with her twice and it isn’t fun. Unless something happens (ie: I meet someone and end up in a long term relationship of my own), I don’t really see the point if she’s going to keep forgetting like this.

As a complete aside, I loved New York! I want to find a way to live there at some point… only for a year or so, maybe even just 6 months, but I don’t know how to go about doing that, as I would most definitely need a job, which means having a work visa and all that. It would be doable as a teacher, I think, but honestly, in New York I wouldn’t want to teach because I’d want to have time and energy to explore the city, so I’d kind of want a crap job, like sweeping up after shows on Broadway (that would actually be a total fantasy job, not a crap job at all!) or something like that that wouldn’t require much thought. Any thoughts on how a Canadian citizen could go about doing that?

And I’ll leave you with this, it has no relevance at all, except that I talked about Wicked earlier in this post and I love that show so very much -- the soundtrack is in my car and I'm having a blast driving singing along at the top of my lungs, so I thought I’d share a little bit of it with you. Enjoy.

94. Back

So… once again, it’s been a while. When last we met I was in Amsterdam. Had a wonderful time there, I was able to meet up with one of my best friends – and to meet his boyfriend for the first time (they’ve been together for 3 years, it’s pathetic that it took me so long to meet the lucky fellow). A weird thing happened while I was there. Well, it probably happened before I was in Amsterdam. I somehow lost a week of my life. I know what it looks like, my losing time in Amsterdam… but it is not what it seems. As a matter of fact, I’m fairly certain that I lost the week in Venice (I just LOVE that city!), but what happened was I was out with my friend and his boyfriend on what I thought was Sunday, April 2nd. I was right about the day, but I was off by a week. It was, in fact, April 9th, which really freaked me out. A week. Gone. I rushed from Amsterdam to London where I spent a few days before heading up to Edinburgh to spend more time with my dear friend (the one I had met in Amsterdam, quite by accident, at least on my part). I had a wonderful time with him, it’s always nice to reconnect with people – not that we’d been out of touch, or anything – God bless the internets! – we do manage to ‘talk’ quite frequently, but face to face is better. Much better for cuddling on the couch and the like (something that is very difficult to do via MSN).

Anyway, the reason I explain all that is to attempt to justify the lack of blogging. Once I realized my error, I felt kind of frantic and just didn’t really feel like I had time to blog and get all my traveling in. I could have done it in the extended time before, but… well, I just wasn’t aware of time passing. I suppose that’s a good thing, it’s a sign that I was having a good time, but still… I am still kind of weirded out by missing that week entirely.

Regardless, here I am, and I have blog-relevant thoughts and experiences to share! Yay! So… I have a few blogs to write and I’ve decided that writing them out chronologically is as good a way to go as any. So, we’ll begin in London. I once again sought out a gay-friendly church and, wonder of wonders, managed to finally make it to a regular service with an actual sermon (as opposed to a lecture having to do with the ‘topic of the day’), and it was wonderful! The sermon would have fit right in in any church that my mother would willingly attend… well, except for one thing. Once again, gender was avoided in referencing God… the term “The Parent” was used a lot, which, to me, sort of robs some of the intimacy from that language used in the Bible – The Father just sounds more personal. Maybe it is just me, but I don’t understand the problem with gender, maybe that’s just because I don’t have that issue myself. But other than that, the sermon was Bible based, thoughtful… and kinda Pentecostal. The preacher even referenced Azusa Street several times. People were raising their hands, shouting “Amen!”, even waving flags like they do at my mom’s church.

One of the most wonderful things that I encountered there happened at the first service I attended, which was Sunday afternoon… it was a small service, only about 7 people were there (it was during this service that I learned about the evening service with all the singing and stuff), and it was very meditative service. It was very nice, but what I was most impressed by? The first person I met there was a young girl, about 7 or 8 years old, who was there with one of her moms. She was outgoing, funny, confident, eager, secure, and yes, vocal about her love for Jesus… I know I can’t be making a diagnosis based on about 2 hours of contact, but she is the first child I have met (knowingly met, anyway) who is being raised by gay parents, and while I have never doubted that two men or two women can give a child the love and security they need to be happy, healthy, and well adjusted, it was just nice to see evidence of that. I suppose she could be severely messed up, but… well, I think making that assumption based on knowing nothing about her except for the gender of her parents would be even crazier than my assuming that I can tell whether or not a child is emotionally healthy after observing her for a couple of hours.

Anyway, I’m back home in Ottawa now (although I’m leaving tomorrow to spend a couple of days with my mom – Sunday is Mother’s Day, after all). I apologize, both for the long gap in posts, and for the haphazard state of this entry… I’ve written it rather quickly, and I don’t feel like taking the time to go over it and make it sound better… I kinda just want to get into the swing of blogging again. Hopefully this will do it. I probably won’t write again until I’m back from my mom’s, but for now, it’s good to be back, and I’ll be writing again soon.

93. Scary!

Okay, so I'm now in Amsterdam... just got here from Venice. Venice has got to be one of my favourite cities in the world. I just love walking around all the little streets and staring. It just makes me happy.

And now I'm in another city populated by canals. And I think I can afford to take a canal ride here, so I think I will. I would upload some pictures, but none of the internet places I've found here will let me connect my camera to their computers so I don't really know what I'm going to do with my pictures from Venice.

In place of the pictures I would upload, I thought I'd share will you all one of the scariest, funniest things I've ever seen... Alanis Morrisette singing "My Humps". I can't decide whether to laugh or hide. It's freaky funny, y'all. Enjoy. Or scream. It's up to you.

92. Tagged...

...Okay, so I`ve been out of the world for a while... well, out of the blogosphere anyway. Backpacking will do that. For those of you who want to know, I´m in Salzburg as I write this. A beautiful city that makes me want to skip around like a novice who has been sent away from her convent to look after 7 children of a widowed sea captain with nothing but a silly hat, a small carpet bag and an empty guitar case.

In case you´re wondering, I went on the Sound of Music tour yesterday.

Anyway, I`ve been tagged by E of Paradoxy, and what I am supposed to do is share 5 of my favourite quotes on any topic. So, without further ado, I begin.

5. "Justice is better than crying!"
-Pastor C. from my church in Ottawa. His 5 year old son was crying his eyes out and Pastor C was trying to get him to stop and tell him what was wrong, and in order to convince him to stop crying he uncorked this gem, following it with something to the effect of "if you tell me what`s wrong, maybe we can find justice. If you keep crying, then there will only be crying." Sound advice, at any age.

4. "Clothes make the man. Naked people have little or no influence on society."
-Mark Twain. Fairly self explanatory.

3. "The heck do ya mean?"
-Jerry Lundegaard from the movie Fargo. Actually, I happily quote pretty much any line from that movie. This is just one of many great lines.

2. "I believe God made me for a purpose, but he also made me fast. And when I run I feel His pleasure."
-Eric Liddel, from Chariots of Fire. Every time I watch this movie, both times this line is said I cry.

And my favourite quote (that I can think of off of the top of my head) is...
1. "I think it pisses God off when you walk by the color purple in a field and don't notice it."
-Shug Avery from the movie The Color Purple... which, in case anyone is wondering, is my favourite movie, so it stands to reason that my favourite quote would come from there.

So, there you have it. Now, I think I`m supposed to tag people so... I chose Marauder,Wan2forgetmaseff, and Liadan.

Till next time!

91. Singapore

Yeah, it's been ages since my last post. A lot has happened.

First of all, the friend I wrote about (actually both of them) have since contacted me. The one I spoke most about actually called my mom to try and find a way to contact me in Korea. It was a really nice surprise! We had an excellent conversation... good to know that I haven't lost any friends.

Another change? Well, I'm not in Korea anymore. As the subject of this blog would indicate, I'm actually in Singapore... but only for a few more hours. I'm heading from here to Frankfurt, from where I will hop over to Vienna and be a total arthouse snob. At least, that's my plan.

What I've done is bought a "Round the World" fare to get myself home to Canada... where I plan to stay for a few months before returning to Korea in the Fall. So I will tour around Europe for a couple of months, spend some time with one of my dearest friends and then, if all goes according to plan, be home by early May. Chill for a bit, and then back to the Land of Morning Calm.

I haven't written for a couple of reasons... one being that towards the end of my stay in Korea I became insanely busy. Both work-wise and social-life-wise... which is to be expected, I suppose. Another reason being that I didn't really have anything to say. I made some really cool friends, who were lesbians, but there was nothing really to write about. I like them, we get along well. That's about it, really.

But I've been prompted to write another post by a relevant experience. I actually found a gay-friendly church in Singapore when doing some searching online, so I decided to go on Sunday. Finding the church turned out to be rather difficult. I wrote down the address very precisely, got very specific directions, left early, and found myself here.

Obviously not a church. I stood there for several minutes... you can see the numbers in the sign for the store, which was exactly what I had written on my little piece of paper. I wandered around for a bit, not really sure what to do. I asked a few people if they knew of a church in the building and they just stared at me. I felt fairly hopeless until I saw a girl standing beside a staircase, with a rainbow bracelet on. I practically jumped on her, I was so excited. It only occured to me later that her bracelet could just as easily have been of the non-gay-rainbow variety. Luckily, it wasn't. I jogged over to her, pointing aggressively at her bracelet and said something articulate like "The church... your bracelet... are you? ... church??" Her eyes grew a little before I think she actually understood what I was asking. Turns out she was waiting to meet some other people who were also going to this church for the first time. (I don't think it would hurt to link to it from here -- it's the Free Community Church). They showed up almost immediately, and we walked over to the church. Turns out I was in building 100, not building 100A... a very important distinction.

The service was nice. Yet again, I found myself at a gay-friendly church on a 'special' Sunday... this one was in celebration of International Women's Day, so the entire service (down to the very beautifully rendered womb in front of the pulpit) revolved around women's issues. It also explained the presence of all the women I saw, I had actually been rather shocked to see so many lesbians (well, I'm guessing), usually there's more men in the co-ed gay venues.

Much like last time, I found myself crying the minute the service started. Singing songs I sing at my church at home surrounded by Christ-loving gay people... it was a powerful feeling. I screwed myself together and stopped the tears because I was in the front row and there was this guy going around taking pictures (I think because it was a special Sunday... he was taking an absurd amount of pictures) and I didn't want to end up in some newsletter or something.

I'm still not sure I've heard a 'sermon' in a gay-friendly church. Much like last time, the speaker (I don't think she was the actual pastor of the church) was mostly speaking to the issue of the day), but it was still very interesting to me to hear terms you only really hear from gay people (ie: butch/femme/queenie/flaming) spoken from a pulpit. It's not like I use those terms a lot, or even travel in circles where those terms are used... but, and this is going to sound really cheesy, or whiny or something I know, but I felt... oy, I'm trying to avoid using this word, but I don't think I can. I felt included. Like, she was actually talking to me. It felt, well, exactly the opposite of how sermon illustrations that involve husbands/wives/boyfriends/girlfriends leave me feeling.

One thing I have to say that I didn't like was that speaker made reference to "Mother God". She spoke about how she doesn't understand why people find this disrespectful, as it somehow would diminish God (who we know isn't actually a man) to be a referred to as a woman. And I see her point, a woman is no less worthy of respect than a man... but, it is disrespectful to refer to someone by the opposite gender than they have identified themselves as. For most people, this is simply the gender you are, calling me 'sir' is rude, not because I have anything against men, or think that I am better than a man, but because I am not a man. I'm about to go into some territory that I think will scare some people, but it's kind of like with a transgendered person. If someone introduces themselves to you as a man, and you continually refer to them using feminine pronouns because you know that they were once female... well, that's rude. You are refusing that person the right to identify themselves. And I'm not saying that God is transgender here, but He chose to reveal Himself as male, so who are we to change that?

Many, I know, will argue that the Bible was filtered through human hands who interpreted what they were told... but I'm still enough of an evangelical to say that while I may question a lot of how the Scriptures have been interpreted over the years, I do not question the actual Scriptures.

But that was only a small part of the service, which I must say I quite enjoyed. I couldn't help but think how nice it would be to just go to church and meet a girl there and maybe be in a Bible study together, and date and have a relationship that progressed in such a nice, normal, boring fashion... the way most of my friends found their spouses. That would be wonderful. Really, there are a lot of things that straight people take for granted.

Anyway, not having the internet at home means I'm paying to write this post... so I think I'll stop now. I feel like I owe you some more things, so I'll include a few more pictures of Singapore before I go... Sorry for the long absence!

90. Friends

On New Year’s Day I got an email from an old friend of mine. We had gone to church together, and at one point had been kind of close. She, in many ways, is a kind of kindred spirit. We are both island girls who were transported to Canada at a young age, both black girls who grew up in a mostly white world, and therefore feel most comfortable in that mostly white world, while still knowing that we are outsiders (that’s a long turn of phrase, I know, but it was an important part of why her and I got along so well. Heh, both of us have had the unpleasant experience of being referred to as “whitewashed” by some of our black friends because we don’t conform to a lot of what people expect of us.) And then, of course, there is 'the mother factor'. This girl (who I will call H) and I actually became friends because our mothers became close, and both of us have had rather tumultious relationships with our mothers. The letter she sent me on New Year’s was to tell me that she had made some resolutions regarding her relationship with her mom, and it made her think of me so she was writing to let me know that she was praying for me. It was really sweet, and I was grateful.

The thing is, that was the first letter I had gotten from her in ages. Not her fault at all, I had completely let that relationship slide. The reason? I can’t handle being friends with people who don’t know I’m gay anymore. It’s just so frustrating. I feel like I’m lying, or hiding or something the entire time I’m with them. It’s irritating, and I feel ashamed or guilty (not for being gay, but for… I don’t know, deceiving them somehow), and I’m constantly feeling like I have to be on guard. It sucks and I just don’t want to do it anymore. So, I’ve let a lot of old friendships slide.

And then I got this email from H and I remembered how much I liked her and how much her friendship blessed me and I was sad. So I told her. Well, I mean I shot her back an email thanking her for her prayers, telling her a little bit about what’s going on in my life (ie: living in Korea, etc..) and then I told her I was gay. And I haven’t heard back. And I’m sad all over again. This is the first time that’s happened to me. I realize it hasn’t been that long, only a few weeks, but… well, it seems to me that she would have responded by now if she had anything to say to me so I’m thinking our friendship is over.

A few days after that email I caught another friend from that era in my life online, and came out to her as well. We were actually chatting, so I think that went okay… we’ll see. My contact with people from that stage in my life has kind of petered out (for the same reasons, none of then knew I was gay), so it could just be that they don’t feel the need to contact me or anything. But I haven’t heard from the second girl since our conversation either. I suppose it was bound to happen. My experiences with coming out have been, for the most part, quite positive. But, it still sucks to think that I may have just lost some friends. I know I wasn’t being a good friend by letting our communication slide in the first place, but I was hoping that with this ‘confession’ I would feel free and would be able to continue our friendships. We’ll see. It’s still a bit early to tell, I suppose.

In other news, I’ve made a new friend here. One of the girls from the lesbian group (who I shall call C) and I have been getting together fairly regularly. Actually, she’s not a member of the lesbian group, but she’s a friend of someone who is, and we got to talking one night and just clicked. No, I’m not interested in her, and she is not interested in me. It’s kind of funny how clear we were about that with each other the first night we got together, largely because she had just come from a situation where there was some lack of clarity on that front and it caused some problems. But it has been quite fun getting to know her. Last night we went out dancing, visiting a few of the lesbian venues that Seoul has to offer. In the first club/bar/restaurant (I’m really just not sure how to classify it) we mostly just sat and talked. And just as I don’t like being friends with people who don’t know I’m gay, I also don’t like being friends with people who don’t know I’m a Christian. My faith is important to me, and while I don’t talk about it all the time, I want to feel free to bring it up… the funny thing is, I’m more nervous coming out as a Christian to gay people than I am coming out as gay to Christians. I think it’s a result of the fact that the church has been so bad to the gay community that there is a lot of understandable bitterness. Much like I have done with a lot of my straight friends before I came out to them, I had dropped some hints to C about my faith in an attempt to see if she would be receptive. And last night when we were talking I decided to just do it… I just thought that if I’m going to be friends with her, I need to be able to talk about my faith. If I can’t ever talk about it… well, it would be just as frustrating, in fact it would be more frustrating to have to hide that part of me from her than it would to have to hide my sexuality from people… maybe cause I’m used to that, who knows. Anyway, I didn’t bring it up out of nowhere, it was in context (see, that’s the problem, my faith is often in context, so not talking about it kind of stifles my ability to communicate), so I said it in passing… using the phrase “I’m quite religious”, and just continued to explain what I was talking about (I was telling a story about something that is going on at my job), when she stopped me and said “Oh, so you are a Christian, then.” She’d caught my hints. I said yes. She then asked me “How do you reconcile that with being gay? Isn’t there a conflict there?” To which I responded, quite honestly, “I’m working on that…”

From there it got quite interesting. At least to me. It seems she grew up in a Christian home, and I’m going to guess that she comes from an evangelical tradition because she immediately slipped into the “Christianeze” that we evangelicals are so well known for, using phrases like “godly behavior” and “a lukewarm Christian”. Basically, her story is that she has left her faith because she saw no way to be both Christian and gay, and between the two… well, what most Christians don’t seem to realize is that only one of those two things is a choice. Only one of those things can be changed (for most of us) and so if you are gay and you believe that being gay and Christian are incompatible, there really actually isn’t a choice there. She actually said to me “I want someone to show me how I can be gay and Christian because I don’t want to burn in hell.” I sat there, and I hope this doesn’t come off as being too ‘holy’ or something, and thought “wow, so this is why we met.” And then I felt silly, because I really am so far from having answers… I’m still firmly planted on the fence between Side A and B… not a comfortable position, by any means. But I am also firmly convinced that there is no conflict with simply being gay and being a Christian. And there is something particularly sad to me about someone losing their faith… for any reason, really, but this reason of course holds a particular significance to me. We’ll see what happens. It could be that her faith was never that important a factor in her life, so maybe she doesn’t miss it. I just know that I would miss it, and so it breaks my heart.

We didn’t talk about that all night… only for about half an hour. We did get some dancing in, and had a good time. I’ll send her some links to some webpages… she was quite surprised to hear about the existence of other gay Christians. I think she thought I was an anomaly.

I should make it clear that even if there is no significant ‘event’ or ‘conversion’ or whatever, I’m glad to have met her. I love making new friends, and I really do enjoy her company. I don’t like the idea of ‘missionary friendships’, it seems so mercenary and heartless. I’d be friends with her regardless. And, hey, at least now I know she’ll understand if I slip into Christianeze myself.

89. My Mom Talks With God

So I just got off the phone with my mom. Always a treat! Actually, this conversation wasn’t that bad. Mostly just catching up on details. Of course, it did include the requisite reminder that I really “need to take care of my health” because I “could be a real bombshell, you know”. This is the first time she pulled out that particular adjective. It was followed by the “you have a lot to offer anyone, big or small… you have great wit”. I’m never sure how to respond to that, so I just don’t bother trying anymore.

The thing is, though, in amongst all of this she did tell me that she’s been praying for me (as a mother should, of course)… and her prayers have been centering around helping me to find the confidence to believe that I had something to offer, to believe that someone could want me, could want to be with me. I was kind of blown away by that, because, well, if you’ve read some of my recent entries, that’s totally what’s been happening to me. I’m suddenly believing that someone could want me. My mom’s prayers have been answered. Although I’m sure she would thoroughly disapprove of the way that they’ve been answered… being hit on by cute lesbians I’m sure would be at the very bottom of her list of methods to restore my confidence, right under starring in a successful porn and being kidnapped by Turkish sex-slave traders (heh, if you actually know me personally, you know that there’s a real story behind that particular example).

Funnily enough, this is the second time where my mom prayers have intersected with my lesbianism (well, the second time that I know of). The first time was right after I came out. I was traveling across Europe and I met this girl that I fell head over heels for. It was probably more intense for being the first time I let myself be aware of my feelings for a girl. I fell hard. Completely and totally in love. And she was as straight as can be. It wasn’t that I thought we could be together, at this point in my life I was quite certain about celibacy being my only option. But she started being really cold towards me (probably because she began to sense the intensity of my emotion) and really hurt me. Kind of broke my heart. I remember being in Amsterdam, in an internet café, holding back my tears (I had just come back from the airport where I had seen her off, and she had given me a very perfunctory hug, sort of dismissed me) when I got an email from my mom saying that she had been praying for me and had sensed that I had met (or would meet, she was unsure of the exact timing) someone who would hurt me really badly and she was praying that God would comfort me through this time. I just stared at the screen. God had told my mom that I would fall in love and be hurt… I remember thinking it was amazing that God cared about it, even though it was a ‘gay hurt’, if that makes any sense.

I never told her about it, about the girl who broke my heart, and how her prayers bore fruit. Just like I never plan to tell her how her prayers for a restoration in my confidence have borne fruit. But there it is. My mom my talks with God. That’s a good thing. Of course, that doesn’t mean that I believe that everything she says is gospel truth. A lot of her prayers are, I’m sure, colored by her own desires for me, and that’s fine. All of our prayers are filtered through us. But it’s neat to see that, even though she probably wouldn’t see it as an answer to prayer, God is listening to her. At least, I think He is.

88. Merry Christmas!

I made a little Christmas greeting video... it's made rather quickly, so it's not all that fancy, but it's still cute.



I'm not really doing all that much Christmas stuff. I have plans to watch "It's a Wonderful Life" today, which will make me feel festive, but other than that, my Christmas Day activities basically boil down to cleaning my apartment (finally!). But I did want to send my greetings and Christmas blessings to all y'all! So... MERRY CHRISTMAS!

87. Appearances

So, I’ve been talking about this a lot lately… this thing I don’t talk about. It’s just that I’m having a minor identity crisis, but of the good variety, and it’s making rethink a lot of things. Or at least reevaluate the way I’ve thought about myself for years. It’s not really relevant to this blog… but I don’t know really where else I can express these thoughts, and I’ve gotten used to expressing these sorts of private thoughts so here you guys go.

I’ve grown up pretty much just hating my appearance. In Bermuda I was too white – at least for the kids around me. It’s not that they were very creative with the names they called me, but having anything chanted derisively while you walk by feels shitty. Despite the awkwardness of the chant, “Little white-yellow-mixed-up-girl” hurt. Then we moved to a nice, white little suburb in Canada and I had quite the opposite problem. Now all the things that I had taken comfort in, the things that had made me the same in Bermuda, made me different in Canada. I had funny hair, I talked funny, and now I got to be called new names.

All kids go through that sort of thing, I suppose. Some more than others. I don’t know where I land on that scale, but it sucked. Oh, I didn’t have a horrible childhood, I just know I internalized a lot of hatred about my body. And I hadn’t even gotten to the worst of it yet. Puberty hit, and I quite suddenly started putting on weight. It’s not that my life really changed, it’s just that my body did, and really quickly. And now that was all I seemed to hear about from both of my parents. My father, who hardly ever called, would during his infrequent calls ask me how much I weighed. My stepmother, who I had known for about a minute, would give me weight-loss advice. And my mother…oy. If I would only lose weight then the boys would like me. If I could just get down to my ideal weight then I would look good in my clothes. Every item of clothing I owned was evaluated on an “is it slimming?” scale, which meant that I often owned and had to wear clothing I hated because it was believed they would “minimize” certain things about my body.

And I got older, and I got bigger… and it’s not a passive thing, I know. I let it happen. There is the minor muscle disorder that stops me from doing a lot of conventional exercise, but there are alternatives. I sometimes wonder if I did it on purpose, at least at some level. Maybe to piss my parents off, maybe to stop myself from having to date guys, who knows. Maybe I didn’t do that at all. I don’t know. I do know that I’ve felt rather helpless though. Or hopeless. Actually, both. I couldn’t seem to lose the weight (maybe I didn’t want to…), but if I did would it actually change anything? I would still look like me, only smaller, so really, what’s the point?

Virtually every conversation I’ve had with my mother over the past decade has involved my weight somehow… heh, the same conversation for 10 years and she gets mad at me because I don’t sound interested. Actually, it’s been more than 10 years… I’m 31 now, so probably for half my life that’s the conversation I’ve had with my mother. It’s gotten a bit better recently, but she still calls me here in Korea and says things like, “Are you sure you’re drinking enough water? I’m sure if you drank plenty of water, you’d start to lose weight. Are you losing? What do your clothes feel like?”

And when she tries to be positive it’s actually worse. Because what she says is this: “You’re actually cute, do you know that?” – and she says it as if she’s surprised. “I was looking at you the other day and I saw that if you lost weight you’d be kind of cute…” or “I was praying and I had a vision of you thin, and you actually looked cute…”

It’s not that I have an aversion to cute, I don’t… but it’s the surprise. The use of the word “actually”, as if all this time she’s been convinced I was ugly, but… lo and behold, I’m actually not.

And my dad… I remember him trying to compliment me once… it was horrible. It involved him pointing to my chest and saying “Well, you’re busty. Some men like that.” There was also the “I’m glad you’re intelligent. It compensates.” That was fun.

I know it’s shallow to be so obsessed with one’s appearance, even if it’s a negative obsession, but this whole thing was a huge part of my depression… it got kind of tangled up with the gay thing, and I ended up hating myself from the outside in as well as from the inside out. The only way I got over that was the eventually come out of the closet and stop thinking about what I looked like entirely. And I do mean entirely. This is going to sound a bit odd, but I’m not really sure what I look like. I hate seeing pictures of me, not just because I’m not fond of what I look like, but because it kind of throws me off. I’m always kind of surprised. Not pleasantly, or even unpleasantly… just… surprised. Because in between the moments when I am forced to see myself, I forget what I look like.

This has actually been the problem with that conversation my mother and I have. It’s not so much that I’m bored with having the same conversation for years and years, it’s that I’m afraid to talk about it because I’m afraid to end up back where I was… hiding in my room so no one will look at me, sneaking into the bathroom at parties to stop myself from crying because someone did look at me… so when she tries to talk about it, I completely zone out. Self-preservation. I’ve told her this, but… she’s persistent, if nothing else.

But here’s the thing… I’m losing weight now. A lot. I have no idea exactly how much… I’ve never been a fan of scales. Even before I got big I always weighed a lot more than girls who were the same size as me. I’ve since learned that black people just tend to be heavier… more muscle mass or something, I dunno, but I’m still a little scarred from having doctors and nurses express shock every time I was weighed from when I was six on up. Anyway, at first it was rather unintentional, but it’s happening faster now because I’m really trying. Not that anyone really notices but my massage therapist, and her only because she probably touches my body more than anyone else in my entire life history. But it’s still weird. All those years of telling me that I needed to lose weight in order to be attractive, and it had no effect on me, other than to make me feel like shit. Now I’m doing it on my own (well, with help… but self-motivated) and do you know what is giving me the drive? The thought that I might actually already be attractive.

This has to be the most unexpected side-effect of this whole thing, this whole venture into the ‘lesbian world’. I’m reevaluating my opinion of myself, and it’s weird and kind of scary… a little unstable… but I think I like it. Maybe I’m not a freak. Maybe I don’t look all that bad. It’s not that (as my mother’s theory goes) I’m ‘too ugly to land a man’ so I’ve resorted to lesbianism through ‘sour grapes’ (not that I ever bought into her theory, but man, did I ever want to take a picture that first night at the club, just to show my mom all the gorgeous lesbian women who could certainly ‘land a man’ if they chose). I’m actually probably not ugly at all. It’s entirely possible that someone I’m attracted to might reciprocate. As a matter of fact, I’ve seen it happen, at least on a superficial level… and it’s not like I’m winning these girls over with my sparkling wit or personality, they don’t even speak English… so they’ve really got nothing more to go on than my appearance… which it seems that many of them like.

I know this sound so cocky, but I can’t stop thinking about this. I find myself replaying so many of the incidents I’ve had in the company of these women… being asked to dance, being flirted with, being bought drinks, and some other more… um… direct approaches. More than the basic pleasantness of these memories, I find myself trying to figure out what these girls wanted, what it was they saw in me and I can’t think of anything other than that they liked what they saw. Which means that what they saw must be likeable. And that’s a new thought for me. It’s going to take some getting used to.

86. Links Ahoy!

I just stumbled upon 2 articles online...

The first is one in which Justin from GayChristian.net is featured. It's a pretty cool article from the New York times which discusses gay evangelical Christians. I think it's a very thoughtful article... I especially found this section interesting:

"Gay evangelicals seldom find churches that fit. Congregations and denominations that are open to gay people are often too liberal theologically for evangelicals. Yet those congregations whose preaching is familiar do not welcome gay members, those evangelicals said."

The second article I found today blames soy for making people gay.

I didn't say they were both good articles!

85. Hope

So... there's been a weird side-effect to hanging out with the lesbians. I'm beginning to care. And I'm wondering what it means.

What do I mean by that? I'm beginning to care about things that I haven't cared about in years... actually probably ever. I'm beginning to care about what I look like. Now anyone who has discussed this issue with me (and those people are very small in number) knows that I have cared, but in a bad way... like basically, I hate how I look and I figure everyone else does too, so I don't think about it because it depresses me. I also have had a sort of hopeless attitude about it, sort of a belief that I couldn't really do anything about it, and besides... why bother? It's not like it would ever matter to anyone anyway. And beyond that... what the hell do I care what people think anyway? I mean, so what if someone thinks I'm ugly... it sucks, and it makes me feel crappy (and when I was in my depression, it made me not want to leave my room ever), but it doesn't actually matter.

Now I know some people are going to jump in here and go on about how everyone is beautiful in their own way, or whatever, and that's all well and good, but I'm actually not talking about that sort of thing. I'm just letting you know pretty much how my head has worked for the past... oh, 25 years. Whether or not I actually am as ugly as I've thought I am is kind of not the point, the point is that the way I'm thinking about myself is changing.

Now, I'm in a room full of lesbians and I care. It does matter. I want to look good. I think about what I wear before I leave my apartment. I'm doing my pilates every day cause I think that losing weight might actually make me look better... and besides, I kind of care about being healthy now, whereas before... well, what's the point in being healthy if you can't be happy? There's a hope here... and I don't know what it is, cause I still don't think I'd be okay (conscience wise) being in a relationship with a girl (although, I didn't feel a bit of guilt going on that 'date'-- what's that about?).

I started writing this blog post earlier today, and so I’ve done a bit of musing on the subject and I’ve thought of something else. Of course, I don’t know if I’ll be able to explain it properly, but I’ll give it a go.

Being around lesbians, being in a venue like a lesbian club where lesbians go to meet other girls, I’ve been experiencing something I’m not used to. It’s not that I’ve never had anyone express an interest in me, I have… it’s just never been anyone I was actually interested in. With any of the guys who have asked me out, or complimented me, or hit on me in some way; well, it’s like nothing resonated. They ask me out, or do their thing, and to be perfectly honest, it’s usually been more upsetting than anything, mostly because I think someone has convinced men that persistence is a good thing whereas I am convinced that my “no” means “no” – not just in regard to sex, but in regard to buying me a drink or dancing or something, and if they try to push me I get really pissed off.

Anyway, the difference is that when a woman does that same thing… well, I’ll reuse my own word here… something resonates. I really hear it, and more than that, I feel it. When I went to the club a few months ago and there was this American army girl (shhh… don’t ask, don’t tell!) who looked me up and down and said “Hey sexy”, I found myself grinning, and more than that, entertaining the possibility that I might, in fact, be sexy to her. How cheesy is that? When I’ve had similar greetings from men, my thought quite literally is “Pervert.” Being told that I’m “lovely”, or having my face stroked or hair played with by another woman (who is a lesbian, I might add)… this is going to sound strange to some straight people who have certain theories on lesbianism I think, but it all has made me feel more ‘feminine’ than I think I ever have before.

Does any of that make sense? Regardless, I feel hope. And that's kind of what this whole journey has been about.

84. Any Dream Will Do.

I’m one of those people who remembers all their dreams. At least when I first wake up… I actually have to spend a few minutes sort of debriefing in the morning (what I call my ‘morning sit’… where I just sit and recount my dream to myself). Days when I am rushed, and I don’t get to do this I feel really off all day. Sort of disoriented and hazy. Not sure what that means, it’s just a fact of my life.

Now, I’m not one of those people who feels the need to analyze all my dreams. I realize that they are mostly just silliness… for example, the dream I had the other night that I was saving a little girl (who turned out to be an alien) from a murderous and vengeful Magnum P.I. probably didn’t mean anything at all. Most of my dreams are just wackiness, and I enjoy them, (and I am one of those people who likes to tell other people about my dreams… I try and reign that impulse in though, cause I’ve heard that it annoys some people… of course, to balance this out, I totally like hearing about other people’s wacky dreams… my old roommate and I used to spend our morning sits sitting on the couch and recounting our dreams to each other. I miss that, actually… okay, tangent over now.)

I’ve spent a large portion of my life moving around… I once counted and by the time I’d graduated high school, I’d moved 10 times, going to 10 different schools. And since then I haven’t exactly remained stationery. I’ve since lived in Ottawa (for university), Ireland, Belize and now Korea.

What do these two things have to do with each other? Well, whenever I have moved, I’ve always made a note of when my dreams changed… like I vividly remember the first dream I had that took place in Korea… or the first one that happened in Ireland, Belize, Winnipeg, Ottawa… etc… I attach a lot of significance to those dreams. Not to the content or plot of them, but to the location. I figure that those dreams mean that I’ve adjusted to my new location. I feel comfortable and safe, and no longer need to reach back to my previous location to feel at home.

So, what does this have to do with this blog? Well… I’ve had several lesbian dreams recently. No, not sex dreams, and not nightmares… I mean, dreams where I’m a lesbian and it’s all okay and nobody (not even me) cares. Like the one I had the other night where I was getting married to this girl, but I backed out the day of my wedding because I wasn’t in love with her and all of my friends (including my church friends) were upset because they were excited about the wedding (which was being held in a church, by the way) and kept trying to get me back together with this girl (who I never once saw in the dream, by the way). Or the one I had 2 nights ago where my neighbour S. was lonely and her mother kept trying to set her up with me and I kept having to explain to her mother that S. isn’t gay, and I’m just not interested, thank you very much.

So, does this change in my dream life mean the same thing? That I’m finally comfortable being gay? It’s not like I think I was uncomfortable with it before Tuesday night (the night of the first in this dream series), but… well, this is new. Most of my dreams are asexual… usually involving me having some sort of adventure, and the majority of them have me playing the role of hero, which is fun for all concerned (and by that, I mean me).

I actually don’t have an answer to this question. I don’t really feel like my attitude has changed. But maybe it has changed so gradually that I haven’t noticed it. I really don’t know. Anyway, I’m actually writing this post right before bed, so we'll see what happens tonight in my wacky subconscious. Probably nothing significant, probably saving another innocent from a psychopathic 80's television star... or something in that vein anyway. But maybe there will be some sort of lesbian twist. Who knows. It's interesting to me, even though I can't explain it. Regardless, I'm tired now and so I'll find out soon enough.

83. Happy Thanksgiving? Oh... and girls have cooties.

This post is pretty much not relevant to my normal topic. It's another update on the other events in my life.

So, for some inexplicable reason, we celebrated Thanksgiving at school today. Not only is it not a Korean holiday, but... well, Canadian Thanksgiving was over a month ago (and all of the English teachers here are Canadian) and American Thanksgiving is next week. Anyway, it didn't go as badly as we had feared (fear based on experience... usually these sorts of special event days are torture), it was much better than the fiasco I heard happened last year which involved such traditional Thanksgiving fare as quail's eggs (??!?!... someone screwed up their research).

This week has been rather... well, incredible. And I mean that in the literal sense… as in, were I not a witness to the events of this week, I would be incredulous as to the veracity of this blog entry.

Mr. Lee, my boss(normally I would give him some kind of psuedonym, but you can't actually get a more generic name in Korea than Mr. Lee, so I feel no need to hide his identity any further), has been attempting to woo those of us whose contracts end in March (ie: all the female English teachers) to sign on for an extra year. I was the first one to go in for a meeting... and I'm not sure if Mr. Lee understands the principle of 'wooing'. The meeting consisted of him talking to me for an hour, I said about 14 words during the entire meeting. And what did he talk about? Well... He spent about 20 minutes trash-talking the one member of the Korean staff that all of us foreign teachers like and respect... seriously, he blamed all of the problems on her, which is blatantly false, and weird because he knows I like her and consider her a friend. It was bizarre. And... and this was where I got really confused. He spent a significant portion of time telling me that I am good teacher, and he knows that what a school needs is good teachers to build their reputation so he wants me to stay. But then there were these C-3P0 like hand movements and an explanation that went like this: "I like men because we are the same. Sex. You know sex? Sex? We are the same sex. Sex. You know sex?"

I was already a little stunned when he went on to wave his arms rather helplessly and say, "Women... I don't know women. I don't understand women. Women... I don't know... Men I know. Women... no. Women are different. Men are the same. I don’t know women. I like men."

That portion of the conversation actually went on a lot longer than that… but it was a lot of repetition. I left the meeting feeling like that was a bit offensive, and I thought he'd caught on to the fact that I had no intention of signing on for another year because at the end he started throwing out numbers to me as he suddenly realized I hadn't even asked for a raise or anything. But he has no idea. In his subsequent meetings with my other female coworkers he has told them that I will be staying, so I need to clear that up I think.

But it goes on. His next meeting was with A. In A's meeting he expanded on his 'women' issue. Quite a lot. He told her quite clearly that he doesn't like women and that he will never hire another woman. He explained that like his wife, we talk too much and need to be quiet. We need to do what we're told and not complain (I should be clear that we are not the only ones who are unhappy with the situation here, the many unpleasant changes don’t please D. any more than they please “the women”... but I think Mr. Lee just hears actual words when D. speaks, and not the 'mindless ramblings of a woman' that he hears when we speak.) Anyway, after going on about the problems with women for about 30 minutes, he actually expected her to agree to sign on! He was shocked today when she informed him that she wasn't going to.

Oh, but it gets worse. Then he had a meeting with S. in which he was even more direct. He told her that he hates women, and he hates his wife (which sounds shocking, but weirdly enough, he’s said this to us before, so we are all aware of it). He hates the member of the staff that we all like, all of the problems we have with work can be laid at her feet (SO not true), and we (yet again) need to stop talking and just do what we are told. He also reiterated with her that he would never, ever hire a woman again, and that he in fact, only hired me and A. to be friends for her. He also told her that she should have faith in him like people have faith in God. (I think she should have responded that God never promised her extra breaks to get her to sign a contract, and then went did the exact opposite of what he promised by taking most of her breaks away!) He also gave her a 15 minute lecture on how she needs to say "Good morning" very loudly to him in the morning... telling her over and over again, in a stern tone that she was 'very rude'.

Again, I feel the need to say that all of these things were actually said during meetings he held to try and get us to extend our contracts! The funny thing is that D actually went and told him in between his meeting with S. and A. that he needs to stop telling the women how much he hates women... and somehow Mr. Lee interpreted that to mean the he needs to be more clear in telling us about his hatred of women. I’ve lived a lot of places, and I’ve never lived anywhere where I would say that men and women are truly equal… but this sort of thing is just baffling! This is at work! From our boss! While he’s trying to get us to want to stay! It’s like he thinks we need a stern hand and we will be so grateful for his input on how we “need to be quiet” and “not say anything”, just “do what we’re told”. And the thing is, he truly and sincerely does want us to stay. The Hagwan (private academy) business is a very competitive business, and we are all very well liked by the parents, who are the source of the school’s income. The schools that do well are the ones that can maintain a good staff, and Mr. Lee has told me that this year’s staff is pretty much the best he’s ever had as far as quality of work goes, so I don’t really know what his problem is, other than that he doesn’t see us women as real ‘people’.

When I first got here, I went with Mr. Lee and A. to get some documents sorted out, and in the car on the way A. and I got into a rather heavy discussion about Canadian politics. It was a rather academic discussion... not something girly and frivolous... and I remember Mr. Lee making some comment about hens and maids... basically saying that 'women talk a lot about nothing'. I dismissed it then as being a byproduct of him not understanding us. But it has become quite clear that he sees us as 'less than', inferior. Even if he had understood every word we had said, it wouldn’t have mattered. It was only the mindless babblings of silly women. No matter that all of us are well liked by our students and the parents of our students. No matter that we all work hard and our students do well. We are nothing more than annoying chatterboxes to him and we will never be. I find it all so bizarre, not to mention frustrating! I know part of this is cultural... while Korea is very technologically advanced, socially they are about 50 years behind North America. But I really want to believe that Mr. Lee is not representative of all Koreans, I want to think that not all Korean men hate women and think that we have no real worth.

Now, I feel I should say that this doesn't mean I hate it here or anything. I'm just tired of being treated like a lesser person, but I do love my kids and want to see them learn and improve... and I will stay to see them graduate. They are all really precious. And if it wasn't for them, I have to say that I would probably leave. I'm not an aggressive person at all, really, I'm ridiculously laid back. My mother would probably say I'm too laid back. I really have no problem doing what I'm told... but I've discovered that I have a real problem not being respected. I'm good at what I do, and I think I have ideas that are worth listening to.

Oh well. It's Mr. Lee's loss I suppose. Or rather, it will be when I, along with S. and A., go... all at the same time.

Anyway, I just wanted to tell you all that... It's been such a weird week. Happy… um… not Thanksgiving!

82. Unintentional humour is the best kind.

So, I should put a disclaimer on this post... or perhaps more of a warning. So here goes.

The following blog post contains adult content. Reader discretion is advised.

Okay, so now that I've done that, I'll tell this little story. It's just a funny thing that happened today in school that I wanted to tell people, but because of the content, I'm a little tentative. But it's so funny I'll do it anyway.

Okay, so this week we've been learning about insects in my kindergarten class. As much as I hate insects (I'm really rather phobic), I always like teaching about them because kids can get really into it. It's icky, it's gross... but a lot of the bugs are cute (ladybugs), beautiful (butterflies), and downright fascinating (fireflies) so it can be totally fun for me too. That having been said, there are some bugs I just hate. Like, a visceral, deep and abiding hatred (rooted in fear, of course... as most hate is). The main one in that category is the cockroach. I hate them so much. And when I was teaching about them to my class, I made sure that they knew that. No real reason why, I just hate them so much that I want to spread the hate around. (Heh, sounds a bit like homophobia or racism, actually... )

Anyway, to get to my story... today I was reviewing the insects with the kids, holding up pictures and flashcards, or describing a certain insect and having them call out what they were. They were really into it, and if you happened to be near my class at that time you would have heard 11 kids yelling loudly, and in unison, things like "Firefly!", or "Ant!". They got most of them right, which was impressive, considering that they are not only 5 years old, but English isn't even their first language. Sometimes they would only remember half of the words though, so for ladybug I would get "Lady!" and have to correct them. So when I got to the cockroach, my only description/question was, "What does teacher hate?" Well, they all knew... but they couldn't quite remember exactly. So, if you happened to be in the vicinity of my classroom, what you would have heard was:

Me: "What does teacher hate?"

Class (at the top of their lungs): "COCK!!!!"

I lost it.

Laughing, tears, convulsions. No idea how long it took for me to regain my composure in order to correct them. And they, of course, had no idea what the joke was. Don't worry, I didnt explain it. I did explain the importance of "roach" to them, though. They get it now. Believe me.

81. The Closet

If you have access to the internet, which you obviously do because you’re reading my blog, chances are you’ve heard about what’s happened with Ted Haggard. And if you aren’t living under a rock, chances are you’ve heard about what happened with Mark Foley. Those two events really aren’t connected, but my reaction to the Ted Haggard thing was to say to myself, “5 kids?? Dude! At least Mark Foley wasn’t married…”

Now, I have no idea about the specific details of their situations… and no one does really – well, except for the parties involved. We know the barebones of the events… the “naughty” emails sent to 16 year olds, the meth buying, the massages from male prostitutes… what is fairly clear to everyone though is that these are two powerful, but closeted men who ended up acting out sexually in some rather poor ways.

I know many people immediately reacted by noting the hypocricy, but I actually didn’t catch on to that at first. My initial reaction was “Okay, how many people is it going to take before they realize that forcing someone to hide their sexuality in a tiny little closet only means that it ends up shooting out in ways that no one wants to deal with?” Oh, it’s not always so public… depression, self loathing, destructive behavior, suicidal thoughts… these are also evident in many a closet-case’s life. At least, they were in mine. You try talking to someone about why you’re depressed and hate yourself when you can’t really tell them why, because that would involve opening the door to that closet which has been dark and dank and has become overgrown with mold and insects and disease… it’s disgusting and smelly in there… (in case you didn’t know, I tend to think in metaphors).

I got an email from a friend who had read my last blog entry, commenting on my openness and vulnerability… I think I was getting a compliment, so I took it that way… until I thought about it a little bit more. What did I reveal in that post? I went on a date (maybe) and it made me feel good. Extra good, maybe, because it was my first real date (maybe), but there wasn’t anything all that intimate that I exposed to the world in that post… She’s right, of course, in that when I talk about those sorts of things, I am talking about something I consider private (at least in Christian circles), but I don’t think it should have to be. One of the things I find so frustrating in my situation is that things that are normal, innocent, and innocuous, these things often become evil and sinister due to the ‘gay factor’.

I’ll give you an imaginary example. I’ll use the movie Ocean’s 11 for this illustration for 2 reasons. First of all, I’ve seen it several times, and with different groups of people… oddly enough, every time I’ve seen it, it’s been with a different group of Christian friends, so the first portion of this conversation is actually an amalgam of several different conversations I remember. Secondly… while I do acknowledge that Julia Roberts is an attractive woman; she doesn’t… um, how to put this… she doesn’t ring my bell, as it were… so if you happen to be one of the people I saw this movie with, or someone who is skeeved out by 'gay stuff', there’s no need for you to be creeped out by this. So, here is my imaginary scenario, picking up as we come out of the theater (or hang around in the living room) after the movie is over:

Friend 1: Well, George Clooney still has it. I’ve loved him ever since ER.

Friend 2: He’s not my type… I’m more into Brad Pitt.

Friend 3: Well, of course… everyone likes Brad Pitt! He’s so hot.

Everyone: *giggle girlishly*

Friend 4: Well, what about Matt Damon? He’s pretty too… who do you like more, Matt Damon or Brad Pitt?

Friend 1: Well, that depends, do you go for boyishly sexy? Or sexily boyish?

Everyone: *giggle girlishly*

Here’s where the conversations becomes entirely fictional.

Me: Actually, I thought Julia Roberts looked good.

Everyone else: *cough*… um…really?... wow.

In my nightmares the conversation would continue:

Friend 1: So, you were feeling lustful feelings towards Julia Roberts during the movie?

Me: What? No! I just thought we were talking about people we found to be attractive…

Friend 2: Were you engaging in sexual fantasy?

Me: No!!! I just think she’s pretty, that’s all. You said you thought Brad Pitt was sexy…

Friend 3: Do you often find yourself lusting after women in the media? Have you thought about maybe disengaging from the mainstream culture? There are so many images you should probably avoid…

Me: I thought we were just talking, and I wanted to participate in the conversation. You guys are my friends, and I want to be able to say what I think… besides, you guys are married, and you’re looking at men who aren’t your husbands. How is that different?

Friend 1: Oh, come on… don’t pretend it’s the same thing.

Me: But… I think it is… isn’t it?

As I said, that is all fake… well, the second half anyway. It never happened because I don’t have the courage to say that sort of thing to my Christian friends, even though I totally think I should be able to. But the only way I believe they would feel comfortable in a conversation with me about a woman I found attractive (or, heaven forbid, sexy even) would be as a ‘confession’. I could come out of Ocean’s 11 and say something like “Guys, I have a confession to make. During that movie I found myself thinking inappropriate thoughts about Julia Roberts, and I thought I should tell you…”, to which my loving and supportive friends would respond lovingly and supportively… probably by offering to pray with me that I find the strength to overcome my weakness… but what is it that I would have done? Thought a woman was pretty? Possibly even sexy? Is that lust? I’ve explored this issue before, so if you’ve read my blog you know I don’t… but if it is, then I have to say that I’ve been a witness to pretty much all of my married friends expressing lustful feelings for people who aren’t their spouse… not that that would excuse my own lustful feelings… I’m just pointing that out. Besides, I simply don’t think it is. I’m gay. I like girls. And as I’ve said before, finding an actual, flesh-and-blood female attractive is a natural symptom of being attracted to females.

Well, I’ve gone on this long, winding path to say that I don’t think it’s right… I don’t think I should have to pretend about who I am. Demanding celibacy is hard enough (if, in fact, that is what is asked of me)… silence is even harder. I don’t think it’s right that the only vehicle I have for expressing my sexuality is guilt and shame. If I want to be honest about this facet of who I am in my everyday conversations… well, I just can’t. Unless I want to spend those conversations feeling wretched and dirty, nobody wants to hear it.

I read an article by Dan Savage recently that talked about this demand for silence and how it related to Mark Foley. I’ll just cut and paste the portion that stood out to me.

“The religious conservatives in the GOP's base don't seriously believe that gay men can become straight. (Wanna stop a straight person from making the ex-gay argument? Ask him if he'd let his daughter marry one.) What they believe in—what they demand—are closeted homos, homos like Mark Foley, a single man who refused to answer direct questions about his sexual orientation. (Has any straight man ever refused to reveal his sexual orientation?) The religious conservatives in the GOP's base want all gays to be like Mark: deny who we are, live our lives alone, refuse to answer any questions about our sexuality. To them, Mark Foley was a good, closeted homo, deserving of every consideration.

The GOP was willing to cover for Foley because Foley, by being closeted, covered for them for years. So what if closet cases act out in sexually inappropriate ways? A few raped altar boys and skeeved-out pages are a price the gay-haters are only too willing to pay if it means fewer out homos.”

Look, I realize I may have stepped over a line in some people’s minds by going on a date (possibly), but there was nothing dirty about it. Nothing that I feel I should have to hide. But I do. And if I’m honest, I’m kinda bitter about that.

80. A Date... Maybe

So, I was trying to write this blog post when I realized that I’d written a perfectly good account of what I wanted to write about in a letter I just sent off to dear friend, so I’m just going to copy and paste it here. I don’t think she’ll mind, I’m only copying my words so…

I worry you? I know that this is about the gay thing, but I'm curious as to what the worry is about. Is it because of my last blog post... about hanging out with the lesbian group? Did you read that? Or just the gay stuff in general? Either way, I think that when I tell you what I did today it will probably worry the crap out of you. I went on a possible date with a girl I met at the club last weekend. I wasn't sure if it was a date before I went, and now that I've been out and back... well, I'm still not sure, but I kind of think it wasn't. … this past week has been crazy and awesome and new and scary and wonderful and... I've been flying high and giggling and girly and buzzing and trembling and all those things I've watched pretty much every single one of my straight friends go through... I've finally felt it and it kind of sucked because I know that sharing this with some of the people I love the most means that some of them won't talk to me, some of them will react with fear and some of them will react with disgust,,. absolutely none of the Christians I hold most dear will be happy for my happiness. (Heh, I now have a new answer to the 'when did you last cry' question, cause I'm crying right now... of course, I'm kind of laughing too so... does it still count?)

Now I know that I said in that post that I didn't intend on dating anyone... but well... I didn't expect to be asked out. This is entirely my own issue of self esteem and hating my body and all of that shit, but it never occurred to me that anyone would ask me, I figured as long as I didn't ask anyone else out it wouldn't happen. I met her last Saturday at a Halloween party at a lesbian club in Seoul. (heh, I just realized how much of that sentence would sound evil to a fundamentalist -- "Halloween", "party", "Lesbian", "club"... hee, probably even "Saturday") We danced together for pretty much 4 hours straight... she's actually pretty much the only Korean I've ever danced with who hasn't tried to press herself against me in a way that A) yes, I enjoy but B)freaks me right out. Anyway, we exchanged email addresses and had been MSNing (wow, that's an actual verb now...witness the evolution of the English language!) back and forth all week. We'd talked about getting together for a language exchange (she teaches me Korean, I teach her English) so... like I said, I'm still not sure if this was a date, and I kind of think it wasn't... but I'm honestly not sure. Either way, I don't really care. I had this week of feeling all girly and giggly, and really quite aware and alive and I'm glad... plus I learned some new Korean words today.

Anyway, I'm telling you all of this not expecting to change your mind or make you approve... because, quite frankly, I know you won't. But because I'm sick and tired of only being half of who I am with people. Damn it, I'm crying again.

79. My life in general...

You may have noticed that I have a 'statcounter' on this page, and I check it pretty regularly because I'm curious to see where y'all are coming from and how you find me. Do you know what the most common search criteria that leads people here is? You would think it would be something about being gay, or Christian... or perhaps confused... but no. Once, many many months ago I mentioned Tricia Helfer, and even linked to a picture of her... and people looking for her seem to wander to this blog a lot for some reason.

More recently a lot of people have been coming here via a link from a site I will not link to because when I went there I was greeted by... um... let's call them adult themed photographs of a homoerotic nature. I scrolled down (while covering the screen with one hand... I'm not a prude or anything, but the gentlemen were naked and I was kind of in shock) and discovered that this guy was linking to me, it wasn't just that random blogger thing where people jump from one blog to another. I do want to go back there and leave him a comment because I'm curious about who he is and why he's interested in my blog. But I think I need to wait and get over the shock of it all.

Anyway, I just thought I'd share those two interesting tidbits from my life.

While I'm on it I suppose I'll give a little update about my life in general, not just the Christian gay stuff.

I had a wonderful time in the Philippines again, for those who were curious. I did manage to meet up with the girl I met there before, and without going into too much detail, we managed to work something out so she doesn't have to go back to working at the bar... as a matter of fact, she'll be going back to school in the new year, so it's all very exciting.

My job? Well... I recently wrote someone a letter where I used the phrase "I love my work, I hate my job." I'm kind of tired of dealing with my boss and some of the inane crap that goes down at my particular school. I know that there are horror stories coming out of Korea about really bad English academies -- you know, not getting paid on time, getting ripped off, bosses demanding extra hours from you and not paying for them... I even know of one person who went back to his job on a Monday to discover that his school had completely shut down and his visa revoked. He couldn't locate anyone from his school and was given 24 hours to get out of his apartment. So in light of those stories, I know I lucked out... but I'm still tired of it. I'm tired of knowing that my opinions about my students and how they should be taught have no value because I don't happen to have external genitalia. I'm tired of not being given any notice about changes in my schedule (it's not uncommon for me to sit down for one of my very few and precious breaks and be told something like "Oh... new class upstairs. 7 students. You are teaching them.") I'm tired of seeing things like what happened on Friday, when a coworker sent a child down to the office because he was misbehaving, and one of the Korean staff gave him a piece of cake and let him play in the game room! How's that for discipline? Basically, I'm tired of not feeling valued or respected. I love what I do, and I think I do it fairly well (and if you corner my boss and ask him, he will agree with you, but you literally have to back him into a corner to get any positive feedback... unless you are a man, and then you only ever get positive feedback!).

I'm not at a high point when it comes to my work. I will be sad to leave my students when I'm done here, that is true, but I will also be very ready to leave. Of course, being who I am, I am already seriously thinking about my next big adventure... teaching in Taiwan I think. I've done a fair bit of research and I think that is my next move.

In other news, I may have lined up a personal trainer for the phenomenal price of $15/hour! My massage therapist (how posh am I!) was... well, massaging me today and noticed that I have lost a significant amount of weight since my last session (about 6 or 7 weeks ago);which, incidentally, meant that she could do things to my body that she couldn't last time... meaning that this massage was more painful! Good pain, but pain nonetheless. She was quite encouraging and mentioned that she's also a pilates instructor, and would be willing to give me some help for that ridiculously low price! As much as I hate to talk about weight and stuff, I'm kind of excited about this... I feel kind of hopeful actually. That's kind of a first for me when it comes to body stuff. As an aside, I'm fairly certain that she's a lesbian. That in no way is contributing to my excitement, as a)I'm not absolutely certain, and b)if she is a lesbian, she has a girlfriend and people in couples are kind of off of my radar as far as my attraction is concerned. The whole reason I think she's gay is because I get my massages at her apartment, which is a 2 bedroom... but one of the bedrooms is set up as her massage studio, and the other is shared by her and the girl she refers to as her 'friend'. I've seen into the bedroom and there's just the one mat on the floor, so... I'm kind of sure.

I'm trying to think if there is anything else to tell about my life... there isn't much else, really. I told you about the lesbians in my last post... other than that (which, by the way, is not a huge part of my life. They meet in Seoul, and going into Seoul is a big deal... takes a lot of time and money and I don't do it that often) my life revolves around my work. And as my work isn't making me all that happy right now, you can sort of guess at my general mood. I spend a lot of time reminding myself how much I love my students. And I do, I really do.

Anyway, just some random tidbits. Because I think you care.

78. I like lesbians!

The title of this post probably doesn’t need to be so “Rah! Rah! Rah!”, but it made me laugh.

So, once again it’s been a little while.  I apologize to my blog compatriots!  My thoughts for this post have been brewing in my head for quite a while though, so perhaps this will be more coherent than normal.

You may recall in my previous post my mentioning a moment of clarity (or perhaps a moment of desperation) when I had the sudden realization that I “needed new friends”.  Well, I went out and got some… and so I thought I’d discuss them (or more to the point how I feel about them) on my blog.  

So, these ‘new friends’… well, before I came to Korea I stumbled across a website for English speaking “queers” in Korea, so after that moment of clarity (or desperation) I decided to check this group out… Because of the situation here, you can’t actually ‘check out’ this group without joining, so I joined.  This is the first time I’ve actively sought out gay friends.  Two of my closest friends are gay, but that is actually entirely accidental.  One of them is my only remaining friend from high school – and she had a boyfriend back then.  She didn’t come out until we’d been friends for about 7 years (I came out about 2 years after her).  The other is a guy I met in Ireland.  I knew he was gay about 3 days after I met him because someone accidentally outed him to me, (I had to wait for about 3 months for him to tell me himself).  I didn’t care either way about his being gay, I was just so excited to make a friend close to my age.  Up until then my Irish social circle had consisted of people who were literally twice my age.  The fact that he has turned out to be one of the most amazing people I’ve ever met has been an incredible bonus.

Anyway, like I said, this is the first time I’ve made a point of hanging out with other ‘deviants’ (please note my sarcasm) and I have to say that I like it… for a number of different reasons.

I should probably preface this by saying that I have not decided on a Side A (or a Side B for that matter) stance.  Because I am still in this limbo stage, I have no intention of dating any of the women I have to meet.  You’d think that having that sort of attitude would make the whole thing really frustrating, but oddly it has had the opposite effect.  It actually makes the whole situation really stress free, which is kind of cool.

The first reason I’m enjoying this group actually has very little to do with the fact that these women are gay.  It’s a group for English speakers in Korea, which means that I’m meeting other people who have a lot more in common with me than sexuality.  They are obviously somewhat adventurous, or at the very least they are not afraid to travel.  We have a lot of great conversations about the numerous places we’ve all been, different cultural experiences, etc…  plus we are all women in Korea, so we can all understand the frustrations of dealing with the sexism here (not that there isn’t sexism in Canada, it’s just not as blatant, or as accepted).  Plus, because it’s merely a group for English teachers, but for English speakers, it means I’m meeting people who are here for various reasons, ie: studying, or simply working – I’ve met writers and women in the army (no asking, no telling!), migrant workers… it’s a fairly diverse crowd (although, to be fair, the reality is that most English speakers here seem to be teachers).

Meeting people from various fields means that I’m meeting people with totally different experiences and totally different perspectives on Korea… it’s quite interesting.

Another reason I enjoy hanging out with these women is entirely wrapped up in the gay thing.  We’ve gone out to a few lesbian dance clubs (one in particular I’ve been to a few times) and I really enjoy it.  It shouldn’t have surprised me as much as it did, being gay and all, but I really like dancing with girls.  I apologize in advance to anyone who is squeamish about the gay stuff but… well, I’ve discovered that I love having my hand in the curve of another woman’s waist.  That is something rather benign, I suppose, but it is something I have often found myself daydreaming about in years gone by (does that count as sexual fantasy?) and it was interesting to learn that the reality is even better than the fantasy.  I love being flirted with by pretty women, I love asking them to dance, or being asked to dance… that’s even better.  The best night out so far was about a month ago – I’d spent the day getting my hair braided (7 hours sitting still, I had energy to burn) and I went out to the club.  My hair was like catnip for Korean lesbians.  That was pretty awesome.

One of the things that this is making me realize is that… well I’ve tended to avoid using the word “lesbian” to describe myself, because I am attracted to guys – but I’ve always said that my scales were tilted towards women, but that first night… dancing with one young Korean who kept trying to get closer to me than I was prepared for, well I realized just how far my scales are tilted.  I’ve danced with plenty of men, some of whom I was quite attracted to (or at least I thought that I was) and yet nothing had prepared me for the explosion of sensation and desire I felt when she tried to press up against me.  My outward reaction was to curse rather loudly, which I don’t think she understood as her English seemed to be limited to the sentence “You are so lovely”… at least, that was one of the few things she said over and over again.  It’s all given me a new appreciations for my friends who waited until marriage for sex – something I’ve always agreed would be hard, but never really understood how hard it would be if you actually desired the person.

Anyway, the point is that I may have to drop the ‘bisexual’ label and just go with ‘lesbian’.  Not that it matters, really. It’s just a label.  But I’m wondering if the level of attraction I feel towards men isn’t in fact the equivalent of the level of attraction that most straight women feel for other women (something I’ve discussed before).  

It’s also making me realize how much I’ve missed out on.  I was watching The Daily Show the other day and Jon Stewart mentioned how he has some gay friends who came out when they were older and how they are like 16 year olds – all excited and gushing about everything… and as much as I hate to admit it, that’s kind of how I feel… all “OMG!  She looked at me!”, or “She asked me to dance!!!”, with accompanying fluttering and butterflies.  I get all giggly and girly (something very few of my friends have seen) and I feel like I’m in high school – except that I didn’t feel like that in high school… or junior high… it’s how I remember my friends talking, I feel like that.  It makes me sad and ecstatic at the same time.

The last part of this personal social experiment that I enjoy is also to do with the gay factor, but it’s a little more complex.  For the most part I find myself feeling really relaxed with other lesbians… which sounds fairly obvious, but it isn’t.  Most of my friends know I’m gay, and most of them don’t care.  I don’t feel relaxed because of a lack of judgment, I feel relaxed because I feel understood.  I actually just put my finger on exactly what I mean by that last Saturday when I was out with some (straight) friends for a birthday party.  There was one guy there who I had not specifically come out to, but I had made no attempt at cover up and I figured he’d figured it out.  Well, he mostly had, but I guess he decided to ask just to be sure.  The conversation went something like this.

Guy:  Can I ask you a personal question?

Me: Sure

Guy:  Are you gay?  Like… a lesbian?

Me:  Yeah… I thought you knew.

Guy:  Well, I kind of figured it out by some of the stuff you guys said.  So… do you like white chicks, black chicks or Asian chicks?

At this point I just stared at him for a few seconds before sort of stuttering out “Uh… I… um…have no… uh… preferences.”  

I couldn’t understand what made him think that that was an appropriate question to ask.  It took a little while but I think I’ve figured it out.  That’s the sort of question a guy would ask another guy.  No girl I know would ask another girl if she liked “black, white of Asian guys” – and as sure as hell, no guy would think to ask a girl that.  But when people learn that I’m gay, they seem to decide that they should treat me like a man.  I’m not a man, I’m a woman attracted to other women – did you catch that?  I’m a woman!  I think and feel like other women think and feel.  It’s not that straight women don’t find men physically attractive, or sexy, or have particular body parts they like.  Most women seem to like men’s asses or chests… abs… whatever, and they talk about them for sure, but not at such length or in as great detail as men do.  If I mention a woman I’m attracted to (or a woman I merely find attractive, or perhaps a previous crush) to a group of straight (non-Christian) people, the first question I get is almost always “Is she hot?”, or a more vulgar version like “Did she have a nice ass/nice tits/nice (fill in the blank)?” and I’m always left sitting there wondering why I feel offended.  I mean, aren’t they being affirming? Aren’t they merely encouraging me to explore my sexuality?  And maybe they are, but they’re doing it by treating me like a guy, or at least that’s what I’ve realized bothers me about those comments.  When a girl mentions a guy she likes, she’s generally asked questions about his personality, his ambitions, his job… and if they ask about his appearance, 9 times out of 10 it comes out “What does he look like?”, or possibly “Is he cute/good looking?” – rarely does it immediately have to be sexualized (at least in my experience).

I think that this is probably a big part of my problem with A.  The night of the boob licking, of course, is an extreme example.  I was not the only woman there that night – it was 6 women, 1 guy.  Guess who she demanded to lick salt off of her cleavage?  Me and the guy.  She didn’t try and get any of the other women to do it.  I was the same as the guy to her.  That’s an extreme example, but she’s often trying to get me into those sorts of conversations – you know, do I like big boobs or small ones, that kind of thing.  She’s even once asked me (in the presence of a pretty girl) if I had “a boner”.  Hilariously, she has also asked me the same racial preference question the guy did last Saturday, and I pretty much had the same reaction.   Look, I’m a gay woman, a lesbian I guess.  I like women’s bodies, there’s no denying that fact.  But I don’t really want to talk about it any more than any straight woman wants to talk about men’s bodies.  That is to say that unless I’m having a giggly girly night with a close friend, I pretty much don’t want to talk about it.  I don’t like being treated like one of the guys because I’m not one of the guys.  And to get back to the lesbians – they understand that.  They talk about women the way straight women talk about guys.  They don’t ask weird sexual questions – they know that I like women, and to get graphic (because I know that this is foremost in most straight people’s minds when they think about gay stuff), they know that I want to be sexually intimate with another woman – they even know exactly what that means.  They know all of that, but they don’t let it overwhelm the fact that I’m a woman.  It’s so basic, really, and I find it so relaxing.  

So, that’ it.  Sorry, this has been a mammoth post.  I really must learn to not go so long without blogging.  Then I wouldn’t feel the need to put all my thoughts down at once.