I
think one of the reasons I became a writer is that I have always had
such a difficult time making myself understood. I’m still trying,
and still don’t do a very good job of it. I think I am searching,
too, for a way to understand that which I have never understood.
Take
the world, for instance. I am homosexual…one of the major
components of what makes me me…and I live in a world of
heterosexuals. Neither one of us fully understands the other, though
I and those like me are outnumbered 9 to 1, so in any conflict
between the two, it’s fairly clear who has the upper hand. I was
born of heterosexual parents into a heterosexual family of which I am
the only homosexual. Not just in my generation, but to the best of my
knowledge in all generations. The only possible exception, and this
is only pure speculation and perhaps wishful thinking on my part, was
my mother’s uncle Peter, who died of tuberculosis at the age of 19
back in the early years of the 20th
century. I probably romanticize Peter because he died so young.
So
I have, as do most homosexuals—and especially those who recognize
their homosexuality at a very early age (I was five)—made my own
way, learning social survival skills, playing social survival games
(but only to an extent; I have never in my entire life denied my
homosexuality). I became an expert at dodging the issue when it got
too close. As I have reported before, when I joined the Navy, I
marked the box “Have you ever had homosexual tendencies” “No”
with a clear conscience on the sound logic that there were no “ever”
or “tendencies” involved.
I
understand, to a degree, heterosexuals as individuals, but when mixed
together as husbands and wives and in-laws and their kids (invariably
heterosexual themselves) dating and going to proms and doing all
those wholesomely red-blooded American heterosexual things that come
so naturally to heterosexuals, I am quite honestly completely and
totally at a loss as to what is going on. I cannot even begin to
imagine what it must be like, nor do I have any desire to find out.
That, of course, does not mean I am not frequently embittered by the
arrogance of many heterosexuals in assuming their numbers make them
superior.
I
just read an article in which the writer was describing a trip he and
his wife had taken with his parents and children and I just stared at
the page. I had no real concept of what he was talking about, or how
the people involved interacted or interrelated. In a way, my attitude
toward the world in which I live is not unlike watching a football
game (or basketball game, or baseball game)…I simply do not
understand it or its rules and cannot comprehend how others seem to.
One
of the things that confuses me most is how straight men and women
relate to one another. In a large gathering, they’re together, yet
they’re separate. The women tend to cluster together and talk women
things—children and clothes and recipes—while the men huddle
around the TV glued to whatever sporting event happens to be on,
putting on a great display of testosterone and male bonding and
making far more to-do over whatever is happening than I can conceive
of as being warranted.
I’ve
never understood how everyone else…well, get’s
it. They walk into a party and mingle and talk and laugh and dance,
and to them it is the most natural thing in the world—which I
suppose it is: there is great comfort in being among one's own kind.
It’s
strange to live in a world to which one does not belong, and in which
one is often not comfortable. I’ve been in that position all my
life. I take some comfort in the fact that I am not alone, and there
are many others who, like me, walk through the zoo that is the world,
warily watching those on the other side of the thick glass walls. The
question is, who is on which side of the glass?
Dorien's
blogs are posted by 10 a.m. Central time every Monday, Wednesday, and
Friday. Please take a moment to visit his website
(http://www.doriengrey.com)
and, if you enjoy these blogs, you might want to check out Short
Circuits: a Life in Blogs (http://bit.ly/m8CSO1).
2 comments:
It's interesting how a families even when I was growing up didn't speak about any relatives who were gay. It just wasn't done. Yet, when I came out to my mother, I found out that my grandmother's brother was gay, I have a handful of cousins in California who are gay, my father had an uncle who was gay...
The list went on, so it almost didn't come as a surprise to mom when I told her. Going through that process of telling my parents and then my closest friends, however, ended up helping me become far more comfortable with myself than I'd ever been.
I'm still very shy around people who I don't know, yet am very active around those who I do.
I feel very alienated from most het men. I detest sport (aside from ogling sportsmen who have beaut bodies); I dislike the way so many men (straight or gay) are terrified to talk about their feelings; and I find het male competitiveness distasteful.
I have no wish to be a woman--yet in many ways I think like one (if I may generalise, which is always dangerous!)
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