I, for one, from my faith perspective believe that marriage is a religious covenant for a couple, regardless of gender, who make a sacred promise to love and cherish each other. It is also a civil promise, which carries both responsibilities and protections. In Maine alone, there are more than 400 protections that accrue to a married couple that single folks (even those in domestic partnerships) don’t have.
Marriage is a sacred institution; it is an important ceremony performed within the confines of a place of worship. The new Maine law says that if a faith institution chooses not to see marriage with that same perspective, they do not have to perform that wedding. But I am proud to say that in my Maine congregation, we will be marrying same-gendered couples as soon as we are legally able to do so. Let me say that will bring me great joy.
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Since I’ve begun reading BBB, my mind has begun wondering about what I’ve grown up with and my experiences with “sex ed”. I realized, at my young age, I can’t quite remember one defining moment with my parents. More importantly, what I’ve come away with are examples. Role models that have instilled in my the knowledge to not only approach sex intelligently but my entire life that way. My mother was born and raised in the South in the 1950’s and 60s. My father was born in a family of ten in Palestine in the 1940’s and 50s. (We won’t get into politics at the moment.) Although they grew up in opposite ends of the world, they were raised in similar households. Fairly Christian, fairly conservative, you mostly get married and have kids at a young age. Your life should be your family, and your family is your life. And yet, my mother and father created a different road for themselves. Both the oldest children of their family, they created a life of their own first. The free spirited nature of the 1960s and 70s definitely rubbed off on my mother, and she spent a good amount of time living in different cities around the south with her best girlfriend and gay guy friend. My father used education as an escape from the realities of the traditional Arab life. My father and mother were 42 and 32 respectively before they married or had children. They have never ever pressured my two brother or I about dating or marriage, even as we reached the “prime” marrying age around our neck of the woods. I look at both sides of our family, and our parents have silently (and vocally, at times) instilled values in my brothers and I based upon the “Learn from the mistakes of the people that surround you to avoid making the same mistakes.” As I’m growing up, maturing, dealing with being an ‘adult’, and being separated from my family, I appreciate what examples my parents have set for me. The focus on living your life in an intelligent manner has set the tone for my lifestyle. No matter what I do, I try to keep sane. If the time comes for me to have a family, I will be more physically vocal about safe sex and education of our bodies. But I will always keep in mind the one thing my mother said recently when talking to myself and a friend of mine who was a teenage mother (and has done extremely well for herself) – “I don’t care if you’re having sex, just make sure you’re having safe sex!” So, thank you mom and dad. Dad, for your strong, silent personality that kept me in line (almost out of fear) and mom for the cool, hippie spirit that comes through your motherly love and overprotection. You’ve taught me well and I will always value that. Spending a week in Greenwich Village in New York City was one of the most incredible experiences of my life. I was on Christopher Street, the literal birthplace of the gay rights movement. While some of you may wonder why this so deeply touched a married heterosexual mother of two, others of you understand the importance of this to me with no question. Sexuality is one of the cornerstones of my life. Many people have commented to me that I am sexually inappropriate, as if they are the first person to tell me this. It is not something you need to tell me. I am fully aware that I tend to be obsessed with sex, and that I can make even the most innocuous statement into a horribly dirty joke. I have poor boundaries about sex. I want to know about your sex life, not to judge or belittle, but to salivate and celebrate. Also, I am just plain nosy. So to all of those people who think that I need to “grow up” and “shut up” here is my charge to you. Instead of telling me that I am sexually inappropriate, do as some of my other friends have done – tell me it makes you uncomfortable. Own your feelings. Think about what it is that I am saying that makes you nervous, and if you still don’t want to hear things from me, GROW UP and tell me. Do not pathologize my interest in sex, when to me your disinterest is just as odd. Many people consider sexuality a private, intimate topic to be shared only within the bounds of marriage. Or, they consider sex a compartmentalized piece of their life, something that is great and all, but nothing to get so worked up about. I am not either of those people. Without sharing too much of stories that are not mine, I grew up knowing the realities of sexual abuse. Although I was never the victim, I can’t remember a time in my life when I was not aware of the dark side of sexuality. Rape and sexual abuse are powerful, destructive forces, and can destroy even the strongest person. It can become not just an assault on the body, but an assault on the mind as well (I would say soul, but we all know I don’t believe in souls :) I have always been the person that my friends came to to discuss sex with, including their sexual assaults. I have had more people disclose abuse to me than I can count, and once an interviewer even disclosed to me as I was interviewing for a job with her. She had never told anyone and was deeply ashamed. In 1995, I began my career at a domestic violence/rape crisis center. For the past fourteen years, I have been exposed daily to the worst stories imaginable. Stories that I will not repeat, but can’t forget. Stories that have made me cry at the vulnerability of children, and seethe at the power of men in our society. I have seen women abused within an inch of their life choose to go back to their husband and abandon the child he also assaulted. I have seen boys who were abused as children grow up to become the very monster they feared. I have seen women who were sexually abused in childhood be aghast and surprised when the same abuser hurts their own children. I may not believe in god, but I have certainly seen the devil. And how do you defeat the devil? With joy, love, and pleasure. In my line of work, it is pretty easy to become jaded and bitter, and to blame sex, society, and/or men. I have chosen instead to fight from a position of love for humanity by seeking out the joy in sexuality. For every bit as destructive as sexual assault can be, sexual fulfillment can be healing. I will NOT allow the abusers, naysayers, and prudes of the world to deny that power to me or anyone else. In fact, I try at every opportunity to flirt with, celebrate, and encourage the multitude of good, decent, and loving men and women as a direct affront to the pain and suffering my clients and family members have suffered over the years. I was raised to believe that my body belonged to me, that my sexuality was mine to own, and that sexuality was about pleasure, pure and simple. Sex was not a bargaining chip to get something from others, nor was it a chore that must be endured to receive love. My sexual power was not to be given to someone to else, but rather something to be shared. I was taught to never do anything sexually that I was uncomfortable with, and I never have. I was also taught that with sexuality comes personal responsibility, not only in terms of taking care of my physical and emotional health, but also my experiences. Orgasms were my right as a sexual partner, and a woman, and not a nice “extra” on occasion. If people are allowed to be obsessed with science, movies, religion, sports, literature, Live Action Role Playing, midgets, ghosts, and lake monsters, why is it such a problem that I choose to focus on one of the most life affirming activities on the planet? There is nothing that screams “fuck you” to the pain and the hurt in the world than screaming “fuck me” to the person in your bed. I have always loved the quote “The solution to bad art is not censorship, its better art.” Well for me, the solution to bad sex and the pain it brings is not abstinence, its better sex. And better sex will only come about when we admit, deal with, and respect the power that sexuality has in our lives. Oh, and I am still really nosy. –Submitted by Heidi Anderson from The Fat One in the Middle I don’t know if it’s this way at your house, but with two pre-teen girls, dinner table discussions at our house more frequently than not involve reproductive organs, sexuality and (these days) marriage equality discussions. Take for example, this interaction between myself and my eleven year old:
–Submitted by D. “Dad are you wearing mom’s jeans?” the 10yr old son asks. “No, they’re my jeans.” They are low rise stretchy denim with flared legs and I hike them up a bit to make sure my pink panties aren’t peeking out the top. “I’ve seen him wear those before,” says the 17yr old. “They’re girl jeans. Don’t you think those are girl jeans?” He asks the new girlfriend. “First painted toe nails now girl jeans, mom is turning you into a woman.” “And don’t forget he even had painted finger nails that matched his toes for a while last summer,” says the younger kid, pulling off a sock to show the new girlfriend that they’re not making it up. “If mom told you to wear a dress and a purple wig you would do it wouldn’t you?” The new girlfriend is clearly rattled by the conversation and my pretty pink toenails. ♀ saves the day by announcing that dinner is ready. I wonder if this is the best approach with the kids; letting them see a little bit at a time. It is possible that either of them could walk in on me and me see fully dressed en femme and that wouldn’t be so good. I could sit them down and tell them straight out that I’m a cross-dressing sissy and explain what that means. Though that could be difficult since ♀ are still exploring that ourselves. Also, the younger kid is only with us part time. Would his mother haul my frilly ass back to court for deviant behavior? When we picked him up from school on Halloween, ♀ told him she wanted me to go to the school dressed as a woman (for a costume), but that we’d ran out of time. She asked if he would have been embarrassed. He laughed and said no, he thought it would have been hilarious. I don’t think either kid would be very surprised. ♀ & I have been painting each others toenails for years, they’ve seen some unusual clothing choices, they know I brush and braid mom’s hair every night. And neither of them expect me to be a ‘normal’ dad, what ever the hell that means. If it was my dad and I was their age…hmmm…. I think I would probably accept it, but I think I would prefer not to know about it. The thought of my dad in a dress with fake boobies and a wig is not an image I want to dwell on. –Submitted by Sweat Shop Sissy A few nights ago, the princess and I finished reading “The Marvelous Land of Oz” by L. Frank Baum. Written in 1904, it details what happens to the boy Tip, who runs away from the witch Mombi. In the end (spoiler following!), the sorceress Glinda forces Mombi to admit that the boy Tip is actually enchanted, and that Tip is really the Princess Ozma, who disappeared from the Emerald City when the Wizard arrived and deposed King Pastoria. My daughter found the scene in which Mombi un-enchants boy-Tip to girl-Ozma to be hysterical, clearly trying to work out how one would change a boy into a girl. “Mama! The witch had to CUT OFF HIS PENIS! And then he was a girl!” Then she shook her head. “But, but boys can’t become girls!” “Well, actually, they can,” I imparted. “But it takes a long long time. Certainly longer than it took Mombi to change Tip.” She considered this. “REALLY?” She seemed quite fascinated for a moment and then asked, “Does it hurt?” “Yes, I would imagine so. There are doctors and surgeries and medicenes.” She wrinkled her nose. “Ugh! What if I was a boy? That would be yucky. Then I couldn’t marry my [male kindergarten friend].” “Why couldn’t you?” I asked. “He wouldn’t like me so much if I was a boy,” she said firmly. “And ’cause then we couldn’t HAVE A BABY,” she informed me. Of course, I wanted to follow up on this announcement by pointing out that male-male relationships can in fact have children through a surrogate, and then there is the entire transgender discussion to have. But it was 8:30 on a school night and I was tired, even if she wasn’t. So I comforted myself by pointing out that I’d already disclosed that boys could become girls and reminded her that boys could marry boys. “Sweetheart,” I said, putting the book away and switching off the light. “The marrying part comes BEFORE the baby part.” (Hey, I will discourage teen pregnancy. Will, will, will. Will put her on birth conrol, if necessary.) She sighed dramatically. “I know, and I have to go to school FIRST to learn to be an animal doctor. Before we can have the baby.” “Exactly,” I said. Thank goodness for college funds. –Submitted by sparkle from Life In Motion I don’t really remember the first time my mom talked to me about sex. I remember her buying me a book called “Where Do Babies Come From?” before I went to sleep away camp for the first time, the summer after second grade. She was worried that kids would tell me things that were untrue and wanted me to have some understanding about it before the rumor mill got to me. The only other explicit conversation I remember having with my mom was in 7th or 8th grade. I said, “Mom? What is ‘eating out’?” She told me that it was “when a guy stuck his tongue in your ‘hole.’” When I was 17, I told my mother that I was thinking about having sex with my boyfriend, and my mother took me to get birth control. And that was the extent of our talks. Because my mother and I never really spoke about sex and sexuality, I never really thought about my mother’s views on sex and sexuality. When I was in college, I became very interested in the subject of sexuality and did a ton of research on the topic. I began exploring my own. I got a job working at an adult toy store. Sex and sexuality were a huge part of my life. My mother knew this and accepted it. We would have general conversations about things that had happened at work or I would relate stories of customers that had come in, but we never talked about OUR sex lives. However, I believe that it was because of my openness and open-mindedness about the subject that my mother eventually came to me to talk about her own sex life. I don’t know that my mother had ever been able to talk to anyone about her sex life before. She is fairly conservative, as are most of her friends, and it was not a subject that was seen as acceptable to talk about. So, I was a little shocked when she brought it up. She came to visit me at school and we went out for drinks. And once she started talking, it all came out. The years and years of being unsatisfied with her sex life with my father. How, when they were first married, she would try to wear sexy lingerie for him and he never paid her any mind. How, in their 25 years of marriage, he had never let her give him a blow job, even though she always wanted to. How conservative and afraid to try new things he was. How, as he had gotten older, he began to have erectile difficulties and that made him so insecure that he was afraid to even attempt to have sex. And she cried. I bought my mother her first vibrator shortly after that conversation. She thanked me profusely, and she loved it. And then she asked me to go shopping with her for things to bring on their 25th anniversary trip. We picked out things that would be fun, but wouldn’t intimidate my conservative father. Some lubricant. Some flavored massage oils. Edible body paints. A small vibrating cock ring. And through talking with me, and with my encouragement, my mother brought these things with her on the trip. And she got up the confidence to tell my father that she wanted to try them. She told him what she wanted. And he listened. Their sex life is still a work in progress, and some people may find it odd that it ended up being her daughter that ended up helping my mother to begin to find her sexual self. But we are from two different generations, and my generation is more open to discussing issues of sex and sexuality. And it was my openness about the subject that finally encouraged my mother to come to me for help. I love that my mother and I have this kind of relationship. It may not be typical, and it may be a reversal of roles in a lot of ways, but it works for us. And I couldn’t be more proud of my mother. She is proof that it’s never too late to find sexual satisfaction. –Submitted by Britni from Oh My God, That Britni’s Shameless |
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