The Curious Cashier
I've been on vacation visiting family in Nebraska for the past week, so I've been concentrating more on golf and family bonding than blogging lately. I should be able to update more regularly now. Thanks for continuing to check back.
Angela and I spent most of our vacation at my parents' house in rural Nebraska, which is always a refreshing change from the high energy buzz of Dallas-Fort Worth. The only traffic congestion we ever run into in rural Nebraska is that caused by a John Deere tractor trying to make it from one field to the next via the highway, and even then there is usually only a car or two coming from the opposite direction. If we wait ten seconds we're able to pass quite easily.
The people in the rural Midwest sure don't seem to be stressed about much. Though they may be relatively free of stress, I've never considered the majority of Midwesterners to be free with thought, especially when it comes to matters like homosexuality. The only exposure I had to homosexuality growing up in the Midwest came in the form of an occasional off-color joke in the hallways at school, or during a church sermon about its alleged wrongfulness. The lack of relatable examples caused me to carry a good deal of internalized homophobia into my early twenties and allowed me to live in sort of a homosexual cocoon that wouldn't be stripped away until I moved to a more metropolitan environment in Austin, Texas. Perhaps the people who still reside in towns of six or seven hundred in the rural Midwest aren't as much judgmental as they are sheltered. It takes exposure to homosexuality to truly embrace it. But as visibility continues to increase, understanding will follow.
When I came out to my parents several years ago, their initial reaction was one of shock and disappointment, but as they have allowed themselves to learn about the source of my contentment and to get to know me as one half of a healthy, uplifting same-sex relationship over the past seven years, they have become fully supportive. Now when we visit them and as Angela and I retire for the night and retreat to the same bed in my old room, my parents give us both hugs goodnight and tell us to sleep tight, just as they would if I were in a heterosexual marriage. They certainly don't act as if we are bringing any so-called wickedness into their midst. They react to our love with more love, and for that I'm deeply grateful.
One day last week after Angela and I had finished eighteen holes of golf with my dad, the three of us stopped at the grocery store to pick up some spare ribs to throw on the smoker for a cookout with my aunt and grandmother that evening. As we were checking out, the woman at the cash register wondered aloud if we were both daughters, so my dad introduced me as his daughter, and then introduced Angela as a my friend from Texas. When we got into the car a few minutes later, my dad immediately asked how we normally like to be introduced, and we said primarily as a spouse or partner, but if we feel like we might be in danger of being subsequently stoned by religious conservatives, then "roommate" will do just fine. Although I'm content with my homosexuality now, there is still a part of me that wimps out when there is the potential for a negative reaction, and "roommate" seems to be the safest default word in that case.
I know that my dad has come a long way since learning about my homosexuality all those years ago, but his reaction to the cashier surprised me a bit--in a good way. He told us he didn't really care what people thought, and that he would introduce us from that point on in whatever manner we felt comfortable. He was more worried about offending us than he was about ruffling small town feathers. I didn't expect him to be so bold, especially since he's a community leader and an elected official in the county where he lives. But then I guess that's why he's so well-repected. He's honest, unashamed, and committed to his family.
Even when I have moments of insecurity, my dad remains a constant source of strength. And he's proof that when a person allows him or herself to be guided by love and not by fear, it's possible for all parties to become enlighted and uplifted. For me, committing to this truth--as well as renewing unconditional love for myself--are matters not only of faith, but of absolute necessity. It's a good thing life is a process.
Angela and I spent most of our vacation at my parents' house in rural Nebraska, which is always a refreshing change from the high energy buzz of Dallas-Fort Worth. The only traffic congestion we ever run into in rural Nebraska is that caused by a John Deere tractor trying to make it from one field to the next via the highway, and even then there is usually only a car or two coming from the opposite direction. If we wait ten seconds we're able to pass quite easily.
The people in the rural Midwest sure don't seem to be stressed about much. Though they may be relatively free of stress, I've never considered the majority of Midwesterners to be free with thought, especially when it comes to matters like homosexuality. The only exposure I had to homosexuality growing up in the Midwest came in the form of an occasional off-color joke in the hallways at school, or during a church sermon about its alleged wrongfulness. The lack of relatable examples caused me to carry a good deal of internalized homophobia into my early twenties and allowed me to live in sort of a homosexual cocoon that wouldn't be stripped away until I moved to a more metropolitan environment in Austin, Texas. Perhaps the people who still reside in towns of six or seven hundred in the rural Midwest aren't as much judgmental as they are sheltered. It takes exposure to homosexuality to truly embrace it. But as visibility continues to increase, understanding will follow.
When I came out to my parents several years ago, their initial reaction was one of shock and disappointment, but as they have allowed themselves to learn about the source of my contentment and to get to know me as one half of a healthy, uplifting same-sex relationship over the past seven years, they have become fully supportive. Now when we visit them and as Angela and I retire for the night and retreat to the same bed in my old room, my parents give us both hugs goodnight and tell us to sleep tight, just as they would if I were in a heterosexual marriage. They certainly don't act as if we are bringing any so-called wickedness into their midst. They react to our love with more love, and for that I'm deeply grateful.
One day last week after Angela and I had finished eighteen holes of golf with my dad, the three of us stopped at the grocery store to pick up some spare ribs to throw on the smoker for a cookout with my aunt and grandmother that evening. As we were checking out, the woman at the cash register wondered aloud if we were both daughters, so my dad introduced me as his daughter, and then introduced Angela as a my friend from Texas. When we got into the car a few minutes later, my dad immediately asked how we normally like to be introduced, and we said primarily as a spouse or partner, but if we feel like we might be in danger of being subsequently stoned by religious conservatives, then "roommate" will do just fine. Although I'm content with my homosexuality now, there is still a part of me that wimps out when there is the potential for a negative reaction, and "roommate" seems to be the safest default word in that case.
I know that my dad has come a long way since learning about my homosexuality all those years ago, but his reaction to the cashier surprised me a bit--in a good way. He told us he didn't really care what people thought, and that he would introduce us from that point on in whatever manner we felt comfortable. He was more worried about offending us than he was about ruffling small town feathers. I didn't expect him to be so bold, especially since he's a community leader and an elected official in the county where he lives. But then I guess that's why he's so well-repected. He's honest, unashamed, and committed to his family.
Even when I have moments of insecurity, my dad remains a constant source of strength. And he's proof that when a person allows him or herself to be guided by love and not by fear, it's possible for all parties to become enlighted and uplifted. For me, committing to this truth--as well as renewing unconditional love for myself--are matters not only of faith, but of absolute necessity. It's a good thing life is a process.
posted by Jen Austin at 3:09 PM
3 Comments:
I really enjoyed reading about your dad's reaction. The fact that he is so sensitive to these issues and that he asked what you guys would be most comfortable with is awesome.
"Perhaps the people who still reside in towns of six or seven hundred in the rural Midwest aren't as much judgmental as they are sheltered."
truth in this, i think. The more exposed people are, the easier it is to understand.
Your dad sounds really awsome! I have had a similar experience with my Mom in my hometown. I have found that for the most part, if you and your family is open about your homosexuality, then other people are more open to accepting you as a person.
My mom and my wife and I were in Walmart in my hometown and the cashier asked the same question. My mom replied, "Yes, they are. This is my daughter Delaina and her wife, Misty." The cashier smiled and told my mom she was lucky to have such a great family. Not everyone is as accepting, but it is great to see on a daily basis how many times I am suprised by the people around me.
It is great that your dad is more worried about your feelings rather than that of a stranger.
Your dad is awesome, I wish my dad was as open as your dad....my dad choses to deny what reality really is....maybe one day he will come around!
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