Wednesday, May 09, 2007

Exceptional Queers

So we have to be perfect to get rights?

Seems there is a naval officer who gets to be gay and out because… well… he’s exceptional at his job.

Every day average Joes? Forget it. Stuff it in or get discharged.

I’m reminded of the media campaign for gay marriage in Massachusetts three years ago. Attractive, intelligent middle class spokespeople were paraded out in front of the cameras with their children- see? Look? We’re just like you. And we’ve been together years and years and years…

If we’re really, really good, can we have rights, too?

But you know, the gay and lesbian community consists of more than middle class and attractive. We’re fat, old and downright homely. I’m afraid too many photo-ops of lesbians with mullets could cost us the ballot vote.

We could always say it’s a contingent of straight women from Vermont and no one would be the wiser.

Heterosexuals can have menopausal moustaches, beer bellies and make mistakes. They can get married for 24 hours, recover from their hangover, get divorced and no one blinks.

No such luck in the gay community- we have to be perfect to get rights.

And attractive.

Even then it’s by someone else’s standards- not our own.

I’m in deep trouble.

I’m not an exceptional queer. I tend to be loud, pushy and too aggressive with my commentary. My son Ben is constantly suggesting a little make up might help- might, he stresses and I need to drop twenty pounds.

I won’t even start with the wardrobe suggestions he has for me.

The Constitutional Convention will convene today. The president of the senate has promised it will be without a vote- a quick adjournment until June. I am wary of any promise made by a politician.

They are voting on my family. It effects my children.

Jake is currently standing on his chair at the kitchen table, yelling at Ben that he was NOT afraid of the flying monkeys in “Wicked.”

JAKE, sit down.

Ben is ignoring him and singing- loudly- the chorus of one of the songs from the show.

Jake joins in, right back on his feet.

JAKE, SIT DOWN.

Zachary is rolling on the floor, playing with the dog.

Have you had breakfast yet?

No…

Can you go get breakfast, please?

Okay…

He continues to pet the dog, not a muscle moving toward a bowl of cereal. If I were an exceptional parent, I would have cooked a hot breakfast for him instead of barking orders from my seat in the morning sun with my computer on my lap.

It will only take fifty- fifty- out of two hundred votes to move the question to ban gay marriage to a popular vote. My son is standing on the chair. Ben has moved on to singing songs from “Suessical the Musical,” his school play.

We’re eight legislators short. 57 will vote to send it to ballot, as of today. A minority sends minorities right to a popular vote.

We will have to be exceptional queers again- all of us. No divorce, no mistakes, no mullets.

Like I said, I’m in deep trouble.

2 Comments:

Anonymous Googie Baba said...

Hi Sara,

I found your site through Mass Merrier. I look forward to reading more it.

I can relate to the not being perfect. My 16 month son and I live on Goldfish and TV.

9:55 PM  
Blogger Sara said...

oh, googie baba, it doesn't get better for years and years.

and then?

well... read on.

seriously, there is life beyond goldfish. for now? snuggle your baby and know sometimes soon? he's going to learn the word NO.

and learn it well.

thank you!

10:14 PM  

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