Texty

So, in assembling this photo collage for our adoption agency profile, I went looking for pics of the two of us.

A while back, my mom gave me a CD full of pics she'd had stored--old family pics, a bunch of stuff from her camera, etc. I'd not gone through them--my mother takes tons of pics and most of them are pretty repetitive. But I wanted to see if there were any shots she'd gotten of us that I hadn't seen.

I did find some interesting pics--not of us, but of the rest of my family. Some interesting old ancestor pics, and a few of me and my dad. There was a little bit of "huh. These are my people, I spose." Not nostalgia, really, but wondering whether there might be any merit to including them as part of my family now that I'm adding a child of my own.

And then I opened a folder called "great pics." Which was full of all sorts of horrible racist "jokes." Like really, really horrible ones. So horrible I don't even want to describe them.

Oh.

Given that we're still considering a transracial adoption, and may well end up with at least a mixed-race child, I just ... I wanted to throw up, quite frankly. The idea of exposing my kid to people who would think that kind of hateful garbage is funny is nauseating.

The weirdest part is that there's already a PoC kid in my family. One of my cousins on my mom's side has a daughter (now a teen) whose father is half black/half Japanese. She's gorgeous and sweet and a nice kid. And I wonder exactly what the rest of the family says behind her back. I know that my late grandfather, on seeing her first pics, said something to the effect of "that child's going to be black!" in a horrified tone. But beyond that, I'd not heard anything. She's featured in plenty of family pics, etc., so it seem like she's accepted, but who knows what people really think or say when they think they're in like-minded company?

And honestly, if having a POC grand-niece hasn't cured my parents of their racism, will having a PoC grandchild help? I doubt it. I'm guessing my dad probably won't be around much longer--not long enough for my kid to really know him. But my mom may even outlive me, so I'm going to have to find a way around that. If my child and her birthfamily--who will be part of our family--aren't white, how are my parents going to handle that? And what will be the effect on these new family members whom I want to feel loved and welcome, to know that the extended family of the adoptive parents is so awful?

The obvious solution--and the one I've been operating from for quite some time--is to simply keep my family at a distance, so their toxic hate doesn't affect me or the other people I love. I already have PoC friends, and the idea of having my family around where they can say stupid things to them is horrifying to me, so that's just not an option.

But when it comes to my kid, there WILL be questions. She'll have birth grandparents, and with luck, those will be good people, but we won't be able to give her that experience on our side. Trying to explain to her why we don't see our bio families is going to be excruciating even if she is white. She'll have to understand, for instance, that we're not out to M's family because their religion doesn't allow them to accept us the way we are. And that's going to be hard enough to deal with. She'll otherwise be surrounded by all sorts of queer and queer-friendly people, so she'll know that we and the people we choose to have around believe it to be perfectly normal, natural and worthy of support. She'll know that the vast majority of people in our lives believe in voting in a way that supports human rights. But there will still be this one segment of her adoptive family--a big one--that doesn't, and I'm lost for how to explain that to her in a way that won't mess with her head. She'll know about homophobia, of course, but to know that her own family is part of that problem? Depressing, to say the least (just as it is for me.)

And then to add racism on top of that ... I just. Ugh. We ourselves can be role models to counteract the homophobia. But we don't have the framework around race established well enough to offset that, and I'm terrified of not being able to give my PoC child enough support in that area.

Generally speaking, we already believe in the idea of chosen family, and adoption is just a part of that. We'll be establishing the idea that family is the people who love you, regardless of whether they're legally or biologically related. And, out of necessity, we'll have to explain that sometimes the people we're legally or biologically related to aren't actually family. We'll have to make it clear that just because DNA or a piece of paper says someone is connected to you doesn't mean they love you. Love is demonstrated by actions, not words, and people who have not chosen to act in a loving way aren't qualified as family. But there's SO much cultural framework built up around blood family that undoubtedly this is going to be upsetting for her, and that breaks my heart.

I'm dreading the moment--and there will be one, I know it--when my kid realizes that there are people who don't like her--or even hate her--because of her skin color, or because her parents aren't straight, or because her mom's fat, or because she's adopted, or because we're not religious, etc. And it'll be even worse if it's not just random strangers who dislike her, but people she's legally related to. I will likely choose not to really expose her to those people, so she won't develop a bond with them and thus be hurt even more by their prejudice when she discovers it. If they're effectively strangers, that revelation will sting a lot less.

But it's still going to hurt, and I'm still furious that my kid is inevitably going to suffer just because there are so many ignorant, hateful, small minded people--some of whom I have the misfortune to be related to.

So, since I haven't updated about this since my last bellyaching ...

I first sent mail to my teammate, confirming that it wasn't just me--there's really next to no work for us. In the middle of that, I also discovered something else that's a roadblock for the team, with larger-scale potential repercussions. So, I broke down and wrote a long mail to my boss about it all late last week.

Things post-mail are still settling out, so I don't really know what's next. But it does seem like our workload is slowing down to a trickle--and a trickle of stuff I really don't want to do. I already suggested that if this really is just a one-person job, then I'm happy to train my teammate on the stuff she doesn't know, and let her have it. Having my position go away due to budget reasons would be the best course of action, I think. It'd mean I wouldn't lose brownie points with my agency for quitting/breaking contract (and thus can get another one later if I want) but it'd also get me out of this mind-numbingly boring and degrading position I'm in now.

There is still a dilemma, though, and I've come to realize that it's why, despite the adoption process going well, despite the upcoming London trip, despite the great weather and everything else, I'm actually kind of miserable right now.

( Downwardly mobile dog )

It's weird to look around and see how much I have and yet still feel so desperate. I'm sure people look at my life and think I have it all, and wonder why I worry so much. But that's just the thing--I don't have it all. M does. This stuff isn't mine. It's his. And if we split up, it'd all go away. I'd keep some of the material goods, and we'd split whatever pittance we could get from selling the house, but that wouldn't last. He'd be perfectly fine--financially, at least--if we split. I'd be fucked. This is not how my life was supposed to go. I did well in school. I went to college. I worked like a dog as soon as I could, stopped only when my stupid body told me I had to, and started again as soon as I was able. This shouldn't be happening to me.

I suppose this is probably why I have so much sympathy for other people who are on various forms of public support. I know very well that but for the grace of my husband's paychecks, I'd be one of them. Not through any fault or laziness of my own, but just because this is how things are sometimes. Where you get in life is only about half what you put into it. The other half is where you start and fate. People who are fucked on that other half shouldn't be assumed to have fucked off on the effort part. Unless you're lucky enough to have 30 years of living expenses set away somewhere, anyone can come to ruin at any moment--even M could, if he lost his job. Sure, we could've lived closer to the edge all this time and saved more rainy-day money, but it wouldn't be enough to make that big of a difference, long-term (and the mental health benefits of travel, the safe, comfortable house, etc., go a long way to making the rest of it possible anyway. I don't regret what we've spent so far--it's been its own investment.)

So, no. It's not weird that I'm so worried about my future survival when my ability to support myself is so fragile.

At the moment, all my hope lies in one thing: being able to sell at least one of my novels, and write/sell more while I'm home with the little one. That doesn't pay a lot, either, but it's at least possibly steady work if I'm able to sell enough of one to get contracts for more. It's also something I could do while doing paycheck-earning work of other kinds until I got better established as a writer. Best of all, it would be something I could take pride in, rather than something that made me feel like a particularly technical worker bee.

But that's hardly a guarantee. And with the current gig having hit the iceberg, just waiting around for that lifeboat to maybe show up so I don't go down with this slowly sinking ship is agonizing.

Been thinking a lot--well, more than usual--about discrimination and bigotry and other such things lately. Most of this has to do with the controversy around the HBO show "Girls" which is pretty much self-deprecation porn for pampered, white urban hipsters. (See my quasi-legit blog for more babble on that.)

Have also been thinking about my own stuff on this. I tend to focus mostly on the three big things--size, orientation, gender--I get the most crap for, but there's really quite a lot of other stuff, too.

In particular, I've been thinking more about my various health crap, and reconsidering whether I need to think of myself as someone with disabilities. I've avoided that concept for a long time, because I've always thought it was presumptuous to think of my "minor" issues that way when others suffer so much more, but ... dang. I really do have one hell of a laundry list of stuff that gets in the way of having a normal life. I've managed quite a lot of it, and am considerably more capable now than I was 10 years ago, but I still do have some very real limitations. Now that I'm wearing hearing aids (as of yesterday's fitting for them) there's one more to add.

( Authentication failed: Access to services denied )

It sucks that there are so many areas in which people can fall through the cracks. If you're able to help yourself even a little, people assume you don't need any help at all, and that's just not right. You shouldn't have to be completely fucked in life in order for people to want to help you. Of course the people who are completely fucked need help, but so do people whose fuckedness isn't entirely complete. Someone earning minimum wage still needs help to get by even though they have a job. Just being able to stand and move your legs doesn't mean you can climb eight flights of stairs to get to a workplace.

I realize that if I start thinking of myself as a person with disabilities, there may be people with more serious ones who think I'm being obnoxious about it. But I suspect the reason they'd think that is that they've come to believe that justice and aid are limited commodities, and therefore only the people who need them the most ought to be helped.

But I don't think that's the case. In terms of how we manage social services budgets, for instance, yes, we need that kind of triage. But the reason that's so fucked is because the people holding the purse strings have for decades tried to convince us that unless you're entirely incapable of caring for yourself, you can do your own bootstrapping. Our concept of charity is completely bass-ackwards. We give handouts to the people who are in desperate need, and then don't actually do the hand-UP aid necessary to help people help themselves. Somehow, the teaching a man to fish principle has been completely lost, and our culture only supports those who have their own fishing fleets and those who can't even hold a rod. That's so incredibly broken.

It unnerves me that I'm so conflicted about thinking about myself this way. I've obviously been pickled by the same poisoned brine as the people who would deny me help. But I can't exactly expect them to change their minds about me if I don't change my mind about myself. Maybe if I stop expecting myself to do things at the same level as people who don't have my limitations, I'll become more confident about asking others not to have the same expectations of me.

Random thing I just realized: I find it hard to post about anti-fat hatred in more-general fora. I'm always afraid that if I even bring up the subject, it'll call attention to the fact that I'm one of the fatties, and the bullies will smell the blood in the water and descend upon me. And because being fat is something that's still considered a "genuinely" bad thing for various reasons, people simply aren't willing to step up and have my back when shit like that happens, which leaves me to try to fight off the raptors on my own. And that? Is freaking exhausting.

The sheer amount of victim blaming that happens when anti-fat prejudice flares up is breathtaking. Somehow, people have got it into their heads that the mere state of being fat is physical evidence of character flaws--ones that are apparently so bad that sentencing us to discrimination, harassment, pain or even death is justified.

And then there are the concern trolls. "Oh, but it's so unhealthy!!" Um. OK. So why is every iota of the health and fitness industry polluted with messages about how I'm utterly worthless because I'm not decorative enough, and never will be no matter how healthy I am? Why can't I find a gym that will simply let me use some equipment to help improve my blood pressure without being flooded with stuff telling me I'm ugly, and that's the real problem? Why are people so judgmental about the bodies they see in locker rooms? Don't tell me this is about health when even my doctor's office has a bunch of brochures for cosmetic surgery. If berating people about how they look actually worked to improve health, Americans would be the healthiest damned people on the planet.

I'm just so fucking tired of it. I'm tired of being faced, literally dozens of times every single day, with people telling me that I'm not worthy of love, of respect, of even being alive because I'm fat. And I'm even more tired of otherwise-sensible people who are doing nothing at all to stop this from happening, or--even worse--propping up the industries that perpetuate it. If you're too tired or busy or whatever to actively work to end this, fair enough, but at least stop giving money to companies that make fortunes off of making fat folks feel like shit, yeah?

I've managed to survive as long as I have because I've done everything I can to be valuable in ways other than how I look. I've studied hard, worked hard, tried to make myself a kind, loving and generous person. I've learned to be charming, to be witty, to keep people entertained and amused and informed and cared for. I have done everything I know how to make up for the fact that my body is not what my culture says it should be. And yet it's still not enough, and I'm not sure it ever will be. I'm not sure there are enough social Hail Marys I can say at this point that will ever absolve me of the sins of my flesh.

I'm just tired of living like this. I'm far too stubborn to take the easy way out, of course. For every ounce of me that's hurting and bleeding from the constant beatings, there is an equal amount of rage and defiance that bubbles up to make me refuse to succumb to the will of the people who want to see me defeated. But I admit: this fight would be a hell of a lot easier if I knew there were more people out there who are willing to fight by my side.

I sincerely believe that I am a person who is worth the air I breathe no matter what size I am or how I came to be this way. I also know there are--thank you--several people who also believe that, and who have worked hard to support me. I just wish there were more. This is not a fight that can be won by one stubborn-ass chick and her tiny army, because this stubborn-ass chick is not the only one who's being constantly attacked. People who aren't as stubborn as me are still, quite literally, dying because of how much the world is telling them they're worth nothing. And for the love of fuck, this has to stop. Please.

In the past four days:

Good:

-Had our first proper intake meeting yesterday with the adoption agency counselor we'll be working with. It went quite well, I think. She seemed to like us. Next step is getting the home study together. Should have that wrapped up within the next month.
-Killed time between appointments yesterday by wandering around Pike Place Market. Haven't done that in years. Came home with tons of awesome from DeLaurenti's and other food purveyors.

Sorta good:

-Finally got a new job. Start Tuesday. Sort of my old team, but under a different boss, working on a different product, and doing something with more editorial/writing stuff. Less button monkey = probably won't want to set the place on fire. It's a 12-month contract. Not sure if I'll finish that out. Depends on how well I like it and how long we're waiting for a birthmom to pick us.
-Money, CV fodder and something to keep me occupied during the wait = good. Extremely fucked-up timing in the short term = bad. See below.

Bad:

-Got a hard-drive-mangling virus. Necessitated a reformat, which meant scrambling to back up data. Just barely starting to reconstruct the machine now.
-Called in the washer repair folks for the THIRD time, since the thing still wouldn't properly spin.
-Found out I have "mild but significant" hearing loss. Will be fitted for hearing aids Monday.

Worse:

-Penny went into sharp decline, and we decided to let her go. In-home vet was here just a few hours ago. It was peaceful and kind, and I'm glad I was able to be with her, but I'm pretty shattered. Also, all grieved out at this point, having lost four cats in five years. Glad the remaining two are young.
-Khaleesi, freaked out by Penny, decided to pee on the bed last night (this is very unusual for her--she's normally quite well behaved.)
-This woke M up, so he's had 3 hours of sleep.
-I've not had a full night's sleep in three days, either, due to raging anxiety induced by all of the above.

I really wish my body could handle alcohol, because I'm tempted to spend this entire weekend very, very drunk.

This whole chorus drama thing is reminding me that a lot of people think I'm Not x Enough. Which is pissing me off. It's also especially pissing me off because I've had some moments recently that remind me that there are all sorts of uniquely stupid fuckery that we bi folks face that the Gs and Ls don't.*

To wit:

I'm sure they mean well, but I'm getting quite tired of folks acting surprised at the fact that we're being open about who we are for the adoption. I've actually had several people now wondering why we even bother telling anyone about it (one even used the "it's none of their business!" argument.)

What?

No, really. WHAT?

It makes me wonder if the same people would argue that a single gay man or lesbian ought to hide that fact in order to adopt. After all, it's not like they have a partner they'd have to squirrel away. They can just pretend to be straight, and no-one will ever know the difference.

You know, like closeted people have done for hundreds of years?

( Welcome to being an invisible minority. Baggage Claim is to your right AND left )

We are queer identified, and given my gender stuff, we're actually considerably closer to a pair of gay men than we are to Ozzie and Harriet. Do most of our neighbors and co-workers and distant relatives think we're straight? Sure. Because that's not a subject that's all that simple to bring up in a conversation about the weather, and we can't just prop up Convenient, Same-Sex Partner at the annual office party to instantly and non-confrontationally disabuse people of that notion.

But we are NOT straight, and when we have the opportunity to inform people of that, we do. Especially when said people are potentially going to be entering into a lifelong family relationship with us. We're not going to lie about being atheist or growing up poor, either, even though those things aren't readily apparent, because those things are important parts of who we are as well. I'm not interested in carving off parts of myself in order to impress people, and if I can at all avoid that, then I do. Maybe some people like the idea of pretending to be something they're not. Me, I find the whole idea abhorrent.

( * )

Have errands to do today. Have zero motivation. Got plenty of sleep, though, for the first time in a week or so. Might be my body's still recovering from the deficit, and is telling me to rethefucklax.

Our first concert for this chorus term is coming up Sunday (two more to follow next weekend.) I don't think I've ever been less excited about a performance. There's really nothing wrong with it, save the fact that there's one very difficult piece we've yet to sing all the way through without the damn director stopping us for some reason or other. The music's decent. I just ... I dunno. I just can't work up any excitement about being on stage, and I'm not sure why. I love performing. I love singing. But something about this show is just blah for me. I'd rather sleep and play video games this weekend.

Spose I may be in a depressive episode. Wouldn't surprise me. I've been on and off the edge of one since about September. Crashed hard in early December and then bounced back a little last month. Might also have some sort of quiet creeping crud weighing me down. Either way, I'm a slug right now, and it's frustrating, because there's stuff I wanna do. Which, of course, makes it all worse.

So, yeah. Blah.

Just because a guy gets a boner for you doesn't mean you have any actual power over him. Your twat is not kryptonite.

If you want to feel truly powerful, stay in school, get a good job and achieve financial independence that has nothing to do with something as fragile as what you look like.

Because trust me, if you make it to 40 and the only thing you have going for you is that your formerly perky tits used to please shallow men? You're screwed. And not in a fun way.

If you want to fuck around like a crazed weasel because you enjoy it, please do. I will cheer you on every step of the way. But if you're tarting up primarily because it makes you feel in control? Don't. Because you're not.

Sincerely,
Been There

P.S. The same goes for women who think they can marry into power and then just sit back and play wifey while he takes care of everything. Several million divorcées struggling with money and single parenthood would beg to differ. Being a kept woman--whether for sex or domestic duty or both--is no longer a woman's only or best career option. Pick something else, or expect life to suck ass when you're older.

(Inspired by some ongoing discussions about slutty Halloween costumes for little girls)

So tired of people assuming that being anti-objectified-sexuality means being anti-sex.

I wish there were an easier way to explain the fact that hardcore specialty porn is actually less damaging to women's sexual autonomy than dressing six-year-olds as sexy vampires.

90% of the women (and men) involved in niche porn are there because they enjoy the activities in question, have an exhibitionist streak, and like getting a bit of money to do something they'd be doing already.

90% of the women doing swimsuit calendars do them because they've been taught from birth that being a brainless, non-autonomous object is not just the primary thing they're good for and the only way they're going to make much money, but the ultimate expression of female sexuality.

And as someone who likes actual sex, and thinks every consenting adult ought to have as much of it as they'd like, that pisses me off.

I'm not against depicting women in sexual situations. I'm against a cultural definition of female sexuality that takes all the fun out of it for the women in question. If your primary experience of sex is laying there like a mindless mollusk while some guy uses your body as a sex toy with a heartbeat, you're missing out. And yet that's exactly what we keep training our girls to believe women's sexuality is all about.

I am not one of the conservative harpy brigade who wants to lock up girls in chastity belts until their wedding nights. I am not interested in "protecting" kids from the very idea of sex. I am interested in a model of sexuality that encourages autonomy, and a holistic sexual self-definition, because that's the only thing that allows for truly good sex.

Sue me, but I mourn for the millions of women who have had very little good sex in their lives because they've never known there was something else out there. I mourn for the millions of women who think the only way to get laid at all is to tart up, catch some drunk guy in a club, and get exactly 30 seconds of aimless humping before he rolls over and snores. Oh, ye woeful women. Stop dressing up in a way that only attracts such useless lackwits. And for the love of fuck (literally) stop dressing your daughters that way, too.

Side note: Really also tired of the people complaining about these slutty costumes only b/c of the idea that they're just attracting pedos. Um, hai? Sexual predators don't need their victims to be dressed like that. Burqas don't protect women from rape, and slutty costumes aren't putting your kid on a platter for the nearest creep in a van (or, more likely, "kindly" Uncle Charlie.) What BOTH do, however, is rob the women/girls in question of a chance to have a good sex life on their own terms, because such practices teach them that their sexuality exists for someone else's control and pleasure, rather than their own.

Irritating me at the moment:

-"Let them eat cake" attitudes.

If you're lucky enough to be in a position of privilege which means you've never had to experience a given hardship, please don't prescribe behavior to people who have.

-The implication that bigotry is just a difference of opinion, and it should thus be no barrier to making friends with someone, especially if you have other things in common.

Let me guess: You'd also suggest that rabbits ought to try to make friends with cougars just because they're both mammals, right?

-The implication that fighting for one's rights and complaining about discrimination means you don't care about anything else.

It's true that sometimes people get oppressed-person's-myopia, and that does consume their every waking hour. But chances are good that if all you see about someone is that they're (insert trait here), it's not because they're making a bigger deal about it than they should, but because YOU are.

-The implication that having a non-standard gender or sexual identity, and being open and honest about that, means you're obsessed with sex.

Yes, said folks may on average be more aware of and in touch with their own sexuality, but that has jackall to do with how much shaggery they think about/want/have. Yes, Virginia, there are celibate queer folk.

And for the cherry on top of this: The implication that having a big interest in sex is a bad thing, regardless of one's gender or sexual identity.