I *Wasn't* Raised That Way
Aug. 15th, 2005 01:49 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bookofmirrorsSo, how was I raised?
Well, I had your typical WASP upbringing. Nuclear family, undivorced, mom, dad, 2 older sisters... I was adopted, but that was never a big deal, or made much of. We had no major wants and no major luxuries. I didn't have an allowance or chores that I was required to do on a regular basis, but I was expected to clean my room, pick up after myself, and do whatever I was asked to do, which did include the typical female childhood chores; dusting, vacuuming, dishes, and whatnot. We did the church every Sunday thing, and dressed up to do it. I went to Sunday school and Vacation Bible School (my mom even taught it one year), and went through confirmation classes, and was confirmed in the Lutheran church. I adored Pastor Koch, and still consider him someone who possessed (I'm assuming he's dead by now, or at least pretty old) a beautiful faith. He moved himself to tears more often than not during his sermons, and had great ideas about being the singer, not the song, as it were. There was no wearing of white between Labor Day and Easter, one didn't mix patterns, and one didn't mix gold and silver. My mother was the perfect hostess when it was called for, our house was always spotless, we bathed regularly, my dad gave to various charities, and worked himself up to running 3 entire divisions of the company he worked for, before he retired. I was privileged, when I was younger, to be invited to business dinners, and was, from all I can remember, a hit with those he was wining and dining. I went to work with him sometimes, and sat in on meetings. I'm not sure how much of this was due to not having anyone else to watch me, or just liking me around, or maybe I was just that good of a kid, that I could be taken to business meetings and whatnot. My mom was a stay-at-home mom and always had been. There was always someone at home when I got home, and I was rarely left by myself. My main babysitters on those rare occassions when I had one were my grandparents, who lived in the same subdivision.
There was nothing spectacularly good or bad about my childhood. I wasn't beaten or molested, I didn't have any relatives strung out on drugs. I had your typical middle-class (later upper class) America upbringing and values. The one-man-one-woman marriage wasn't really taught, it was just The Way Things Are And Always Should Be. Good people didn't do bad things, and bad things meant anything that went against that moral teaching. So, of course, polyamory, open relationships, sex before marriage, homosexuality, and bisexuality were right out.
My first experience with homosexuality waslogomancer, when our 3-year long dating spree was cut short by his coming out to me. We remained the closest of friends until I moved down here, but I always credit him being my introduction to that sort of thing, and predisposing me towards it positively. When I was growing up, it was something that just wasn't talked about, so I never got the message that it was bad, really. More like a vague sense of distastefulness surrounding it, and I didn't understand either homosexuality or the distaste surrounding it to make my own decision on it. And I almost always made my own decision on such things, even from an early age. The fact was, I already knew logomancer was a good person, and if he was gay, well, then, being gay couldn't possibly be bad. End of story. My own curiosity about it later led me to wonder what it would be like with a woman, although I didn't fully go there until much much later in life (the past year, actually).
What about racism? Was I raised to be racist?
Not really. But there are lots of gray areas. I mean, part of it was we lived in a town where I can still remember the first name of the one black girl in my class, as well as the names of her younger twin sisters. I didn't hang with her, and really didn't know what to make of her. She was a curiosity to me, but we didn't run in the same social circles, so I never really got to know her. Looking back, it was more like, I knew society said there was some reason I shouldn't like her, should shun her, but I couldn't really wrap my mind around that... it just didn't make sense to me. So, since we didn't hang anyway, I just let it go. I wasn't brave enough then to just go up to her and scope her out. I remember little things, though. I wasn't taught that black people were bad, or less, or anything like that. In fact, there was a guy my dad worked with, who was from out of state, who I adored, and my parents seemed to encourage that. He was black. My dad worked with a black guy, whose wife was black, and I think my niece ended up playing with their son when she was little. None of that was discouraged (although my sister commented on how my grandpa would probably freak about it). But I had a doll when I was little, and I put her hair in pigtails. Three pigtails. I remember my mother saying, with scorn in her voice, "That's how little black girls wear their hair." I knew that. I'd never seen anyone white wear their hair like that. But I thought it was cool. I think I got kinda mad at that, and was definitely confused. I know certain color schemes were attributed to black people, and those were apparently to be scorned. However, any color scheme that wasn't conservative met with the same derision, so maybe I'm making too much of that. I remember when I was young, a black guy asked me to roller skate with him (not a date, we just both happened to be at the rink), and I did, and one of my parents got upset... I don't remember which one, but whichever one it was said the other would be mad, and they didn't sound too happy themselves.
None of this made any sense to me. Even back then, I just didn't GET it. I'm not sure how I escaped from that unscathed, as it were, but I could never wrap my head around racism, towards any race, or group of people. Maybe because I was born when I was born, and the media at the time was full of civil rights agendas (none of which I recall seeing, but maybe I got something through osmosis). I don't know why I picked up on the friendships my parents had, and not the subtler messages. Maybe because I could understand friendships, but I couldn't understand why one hairstyle was better than another, based on who wore it. Even now, I hesitate to say my parents are racist. They're OK with minorities, it would seem, as long as they aren't fucking their daughter. *sigh*
Interestingly enough, it was one of Leo's great fantasies to see me with a black man. By the time we got around to pursuing it, the marriage was all but over, and we never got into it. He was my first experience with an open relationship (even though we only did that once, and none of the women he wanted would ever take him up on it, even when I told them point blank that it was OK), and he was the first person to start me on the idea of being with someone of another race. Looking back, it was a foreign concept to me, too. I'd had one small experience, in high school, with a black guy, but nothing major. There was a taboo about it, which just added to the excitement. But we never followed through, and I wasn't going to go out and find someone black to fuck just to be able to carve a notch in my bedpost.
The fact is, half the time I forget thatlunenoire is black. He's a person to me, and his color and sexual preferences are otherwise irrelevant to me. That doesn't mean that the first time I saw him naked, I wasn't scoping him out surreptitiously to see if the stereotypes hold true, or that the first time I went down on him, I wasn't thinking about Leo, and what he would think of all this, in the back of my mind. It's there, sure. And yeah, sometimes we focus on it, play out the taboo aspects of it, for fun, or to diffuse their power. He makes racial comments I would never *dream* of making (like calling himself and blckwngdorcl my salt and pepper shakers). But bottom line is, I don't care that he's black, and I don't care that his primary sexual preference is men. No more than I would care if he were white, and his primary sexual preference was women. I love him as a person, and that's all that matters to me.
blckwngdorcl said, after reading my last entry, that he wished he could call my parents, and tell them that, if they met lunenoire, they'd probably like him a lot, and feel "silly" for what's going on now. Perhaps he's right, although I don't know how that would ever come about. Right now, I'm feeling too martyrish to broach that subject, although it would be my fondest wish to be able to sit at the dinner table at Christmas with my entire family, and both my husbands, and that be taken as naturally as a traditional family.
So no, it's not my parents' "fault" I turned out like this. I'd like to say I learned from them the more subtle things in life, like just being a good person, for its own sake. It's just that was seem to have different definitions of what's good.
I don't believe in the Bible, or the Torah, or the Koran, or the Nine Noble Virtues, or the teachings of the Buddhists, or any other group. All of those systems have their merits and their flaws, just as my own person spirituality has its merits and flaws.
I believe in Love. And right now, I have love in my life. I have two husbands that love me very much. Our relationships aren't perfect, but I believe that they're there for a reason. Honestly, I can't say whetherlunenoire and I are meant to be together romantically, but I've enjoyed that in the past, and I look forward to enjoying it again in the future, if that comes up. I do know, however, that we were meant to be together. He and I. He and blckwngdorcl. blckwngdorcl and I. The three of us, together. We fit well. We teach each other things. We learn from each other. It's HARD sometimes. But it's worth it.
And I'm sorry that this hurts my mother, hurts my family. But, when it comes down to it, I'm the only one who has to look at myself in the mirror every day. I'm the only one who can (or should) live my life. I can't force anyone to feel good about what I do. Nor, however, can I force them to feel bad about it. In the end, everyone has to make their own choice about their reaction to another, to another's lifestyle.
I love my parents very much. I can only hope that someday, they'll be able to accept this, to accept me as I am. Nothing I do is, as my mother fears, to try to distance myself from my family, to try to make myself as little like them as possible. I'd like to think I took their best qualities with me. I'd like to think that this, in the end, is something that they can be proud of.
Well, I had your typical WASP upbringing. Nuclear family, undivorced, mom, dad, 2 older sisters... I was adopted, but that was never a big deal, or made much of. We had no major wants and no major luxuries. I didn't have an allowance or chores that I was required to do on a regular basis, but I was expected to clean my room, pick up after myself, and do whatever I was asked to do, which did include the typical female childhood chores; dusting, vacuuming, dishes, and whatnot. We did the church every Sunday thing, and dressed up to do it. I went to Sunday school and Vacation Bible School (my mom even taught it one year), and went through confirmation classes, and was confirmed in the Lutheran church. I adored Pastor Koch, and still consider him someone who possessed (I'm assuming he's dead by now, or at least pretty old) a beautiful faith. He moved himself to tears more often than not during his sermons, and had great ideas about being the singer, not the song, as it were. There was no wearing of white between Labor Day and Easter, one didn't mix patterns, and one didn't mix gold and silver. My mother was the perfect hostess when it was called for, our house was always spotless, we bathed regularly, my dad gave to various charities, and worked himself up to running 3 entire divisions of the company he worked for, before he retired. I was privileged, when I was younger, to be invited to business dinners, and was, from all I can remember, a hit with those he was wining and dining. I went to work with him sometimes, and sat in on meetings. I'm not sure how much of this was due to not having anyone else to watch me, or just liking me around, or maybe I was just that good of a kid, that I could be taken to business meetings and whatnot. My mom was a stay-at-home mom and always had been. There was always someone at home when I got home, and I was rarely left by myself. My main babysitters on those rare occassions when I had one were my grandparents, who lived in the same subdivision.
There was nothing spectacularly good or bad about my childhood. I wasn't beaten or molested, I didn't have any relatives strung out on drugs. I had your typical middle-class (later upper class) America upbringing and values. The one-man-one-woman marriage wasn't really taught, it was just The Way Things Are And Always Should Be. Good people didn't do bad things, and bad things meant anything that went against that moral teaching. So, of course, polyamory, open relationships, sex before marriage, homosexuality, and bisexuality were right out.
My first experience with homosexuality was
logomancer, when our 3-year long dating spree was cut short by his coming out to me. We remained the closest of friends until I moved down here, but I always credit him being my introduction to that sort of thing, and predisposing me towards it positively. When I was growing up, it was something that just wasn't talked about, so I never got the message that it was bad, really. More like a vague sense of distastefulness surrounding it, and I didn't understand either homosexuality or the distaste surrounding it to make my own decision on it. And I almost always made my own decision on such things, even from an early age. The fact was, I already knew logomancer was a good person, and if he was gay, well, then, being gay couldn't possibly be bad. End of story. My own curiosity about it later led me to wonder what it would be like with a woman, although I didn't fully go there until much much later in life (the past year, actually). What about racism? Was I raised to be racist?
Not really. But there are lots of gray areas. I mean, part of it was we lived in a town where I can still remember the first name of the one black girl in my class, as well as the names of her younger twin sisters. I didn't hang with her, and really didn't know what to make of her. She was a curiosity to me, but we didn't run in the same social circles, so I never really got to know her. Looking back, it was more like, I knew society said there was some reason I shouldn't like her, should shun her, but I couldn't really wrap my mind around that... it just didn't make sense to me. So, since we didn't hang anyway, I just let it go. I wasn't brave enough then to just go up to her and scope her out. I remember little things, though. I wasn't taught that black people were bad, or less, or anything like that. In fact, there was a guy my dad worked with, who was from out of state, who I adored, and my parents seemed to encourage that. He was black. My dad worked with a black guy, whose wife was black, and I think my niece ended up playing with their son when she was little. None of that was discouraged (although my sister commented on how my grandpa would probably freak about it). But I had a doll when I was little, and I put her hair in pigtails. Three pigtails. I remember my mother saying, with scorn in her voice, "That's how little black girls wear their hair." I knew that. I'd never seen anyone white wear their hair like that. But I thought it was cool. I think I got kinda mad at that, and was definitely confused. I know certain color schemes were attributed to black people, and those were apparently to be scorned. However, any color scheme that wasn't conservative met with the same derision, so maybe I'm making too much of that. I remember when I was young, a black guy asked me to roller skate with him (not a date, we just both happened to be at the rink), and I did, and one of my parents got upset... I don't remember which one, but whichever one it was said the other would be mad, and they didn't sound too happy themselves.
None of this made any sense to me. Even back then, I just didn't GET it. I'm not sure how I escaped from that unscathed, as it were, but I could never wrap my head around racism, towards any race, or group of people. Maybe because I was born when I was born, and the media at the time was full of civil rights agendas (none of which I recall seeing, but maybe I got something through osmosis). I don't know why I picked up on the friendships my parents had, and not the subtler messages. Maybe because I could understand friendships, but I couldn't understand why one hairstyle was better than another, based on who wore it. Even now, I hesitate to say my parents are racist. They're OK with minorities, it would seem, as long as they aren't fucking their daughter. *sigh*
Interestingly enough, it was one of Leo's great fantasies to see me with a black man. By the time we got around to pursuing it, the marriage was all but over, and we never got into it. He was my first experience with an open relationship (even though we only did that once, and none of the women he wanted would ever take him up on it, even when I told them point blank that it was OK), and he was the first person to start me on the idea of being with someone of another race. Looking back, it was a foreign concept to me, too. I'd had one small experience, in high school, with a black guy, but nothing major. There was a taboo about it, which just added to the excitement. But we never followed through, and I wasn't going to go out and find someone black to fuck just to be able to carve a notch in my bedpost.
The fact is, half the time I forget that
lunenoire is black. He's a person to me, and his color and sexual preferences are otherwise irrelevant to me. That doesn't mean that the first time I saw him naked, I wasn't scoping him out surreptitiously to see if the stereotypes hold true, or that the first time I went down on him, I wasn't thinking about Leo, and what he would think of all this, in the back of my mind. It's there, sure. And yeah, sometimes we focus on it, play out the taboo aspects of it, for fun, or to diffuse their power. He makes racial comments I would never *dream* of making (like calling himself and blckwngdorcl my salt and pepper shakers). But bottom line is, I don't care that he's black, and I don't care that his primary sexual preference is men. No more than I would care if he were white, and his primary sexual preference was women. I love him as a person, and that's all that matters to me. blckwngdorcl said, after reading my last entry, that he wished he could call my parents, and tell them that, if they met lunenoire, they'd probably like him a lot, and feel "silly" for what's going on now. Perhaps he's right, although I don't know how that would ever come about. Right now, I'm feeling too martyrish to broach that subject, although it would be my fondest wish to be able to sit at the dinner table at Christmas with my entire family, and both my husbands, and that be taken as naturally as a traditional family. So no, it's not my parents' "fault" I turned out like this. I'd like to say I learned from them the more subtle things in life, like just being a good person, for its own sake. It's just that was seem to have different definitions of what's good.
I don't believe in the Bible, or the Torah, or the Koran, or the Nine Noble Virtues, or the teachings of the Buddhists, or any other group. All of those systems have their merits and their flaws, just as my own person spirituality has its merits and flaws.
I believe in Love. And right now, I have love in my life. I have two husbands that love me very much. Our relationships aren't perfect, but I believe that they're there for a reason. Honestly, I can't say whether
lunenoire and I are meant to be together romantically, but I've enjoyed that in the past, and I look forward to enjoying it again in the future, if that comes up. I do know, however, that we were meant to be together. He and I. He and blckwngdorcl. blckwngdorcl and I. The three of us, together. We fit well. We teach each other things. We learn from each other. It's HARD sometimes. But it's worth it. And I'm sorry that this hurts my mother, hurts my family. But, when it comes down to it, I'm the only one who has to look at myself in the mirror every day. I'm the only one who can (or should) live my life. I can't force anyone to feel good about what I do. Nor, however, can I force them to feel bad about it. In the end, everyone has to make their own choice about their reaction to another, to another's lifestyle.
I love my parents very much. I can only hope that someday, they'll be able to accept this, to accept me as I am. Nothing I do is, as my mother fears, to try to distance myself from my family, to try to make myself as little like them as possible. I'd like to think I took their best qualities with me. I'd like to think that this, in the end, is something that they can be proud of.
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I'm the only one who can (or should) live my life.
Date: 2005-08-15 06:35 am (UTC)Re: I'm the only one who can (or should) live my life.
Date: 2005-08-15 06:38 am (UTC)Re: I'm the only one who can (or should) live my life.
Date: 2005-08-15 07:33 am (UTC)Re: I'm the only one who can (or should) live my life.
Date: 2005-08-15 11:28 am (UTC)My mother doesn't agree with my lifestyle either....
Date: 2005-08-15 06:38 am (UTC)Re: My mother doesn't agree with my lifestyle either....
Date: 2005-08-15 06:39 am (UTC)But thank you.
Re: My mother doesn't agree with my lifestyle either....
Date: 2005-08-15 06:52 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-08-15 11:35 am (UTC)*hugs*
no subject
Date: 2005-08-15 06:19 pm (UTC)You left me teary....
Date: 2005-08-15 03:22 pm (UTC)I don't know if it will help much, sweetie, but I think later I will probably post my own experiences with racism and how those have manifested in and for my family, just to give you a sense of context about my reactions.
And by the way, this woman is wonderful.
Re: You left me teary....
Date: 2005-08-15 06:20 pm (UTC)And yeah... I'm glad you're OK with it... or, I suppose, as OK as one can be about it.
We'll talk about it someday, when we have a chance. Love you.
Re: You left me teary....
Date: 2005-08-15 06:44 pm (UTC)As if I would pass up the opportunity to say it again! :)
Anyways...Yeah, unfortunately, it's not the first time this sort of thing has happened, so it's not throwing me off-keel at all...although I wish for your sake it had cropped up with someone else's parents. :(
HUGS...and MWAH!