lullabelle

There's been a lot of !fail going around the internet lately. There was the whole Supernatural RPF in Haiti debacle involving race, and non-whites being used as props as opposed to actual people, and there was a lovely piece regarding Independence Day and the erasure of cultural identity in favor of Just Being American that was so chock full of fail that just thinking about it makes me break out in hives. I'm Irish-American, third/fourth generation by way of Boston, and proud of it. I have a rich and interesting familial history that reads like something out of a mob novel. On my father's side, my grandfather was one of 12 children, and my grandmother was one of 14. Basically, I'm related to half of the city, and I consider it part of my identity though I've never actually lived there. I'd never give up my hyphens for anything. The fact that I can retain my hyphens is part of what makes living here so great.

So, there's two cents worth.

Basically, I've been avoiding all of these arguments because I don't like arguments, which is shitty of me, because I have an opinion, and a !fail argument has finally bit me in the ass personally.

Tonight that horrible, horrible stereotype of bisexual people being unable to "pick a team" reared its ugly head at me, and honestly, I've heard it before, but I heard it tonight from somewhere so unexpected that it actually hurt. Today I was told that I "barely counted" as queer. And I was so shocked that I didn't say anything. I at least managed to leave the apartment before I started crying, which I think counts for something. Honestly, this sentiment is not new; I was just so unprepared for it. The person who said it to me is a queer male liberal. I knew this same person when he was a straight female conservative. And I have been there for him through all of it. I have been supportive. He's hurt me a bit before with careless commentary. This is the first time his passive aggression has crossed the line into plain old aggression.

What the fuck.

It just kills me, because he's worked as a volunteer for emergency suicide hotlines. So he'll talk strangers off a cliff, but he'll slap friends in the face. I don't even know how to respond. I don't think I want to. I hate this kind of conflict. He should know better. He does know better. To be involved in all the things he's involved with, he fucking must.

I have enough shit to deal with, really. I'm not a huge fan of the term "bisexual" because it adheres to a gender binary that I don't support, but I'll often use it because I don't like having to explain the concept of pansexuality, and because "pansexual" sounds snotty. I don't really like the word, even if it is more accurate. I'll use the term "queer" if I can at all get away with it. I have had roughly the same number of female partners -- in both relationships and ill-advised sexual encounters -- as I have male partners, not that something like that should matter. But one half of my relationship experience has just been completely discounted, because evidently I cannot fully commit to it. I'm not sure which half. I don't care. I matter, goddammit.

ETA: He called to apologize, and told me he realizes that dismissing my opinions out-of-hand in that way was uncool. I accepted his apology, and told him I was sorry for storming out of his apartment like a drama queen instead of simply standing up for myself, which is what I should have done. I think he would have been receptive if I told him what about his statement had upset me, and why. I'm gonna call this one water under the bridge.