“At least I don’t wear women’s underwear!”
The awkward statement from my mom was no confession of a commando habit.
It was an angry, painful, and tear-filled sound that translated to, “There are no more straws to draw.”
Though this was one of the daily yelling matches that filled our home, and this after I was out of high school,
This statement made it unusual.
Not only was my father someone that I had a difficult time not hating
Because of his ridiculous rules, odd demands and callous use of names,
Like “idiot,” “crazy,” “dum dum,” “dodo,” and “stupid,” showered on my mom or brother,
Mixed with violent memories of arguments that got out of hand at times,
But the anger was doubled when held next to his “do what I say, not what I do” living mantra.
You see, our family was one that always did things together, arguing all the way there and back,
One where the Bible was the only reference book worth paying attention to,
As long as you didn’t point out how accepting that pesky Jesus was,
And as long as it aligned with the politically conservative point of view
And speakers like James Dobson.
In our five years living in Woodland, California, near Sacramento,
We not only held our conservative Christian beliefs, we acted it out... by protesting everything else.
In that world, you loudly proclaim your ways right and condescend louder those who disagree.
Everything is marriage and family and Jesus and making happy appearances.
Friends didn’t ask about our red, teary eyes, and if we spoke up, we were told to “just forgive.”
My dad was not one to have an open, honest relationship
And, if he got caught being a jerk, he then self-justified with the infamous, “I’m just a man.”
With a fearful, point-making mom, you can imagine the loving relationship my parents had,
But divorce was not an option in this world of family- and marriage-loving.
Crushed souls and dead hearts were something you ignored, then moved on with life.
Once, when I was in early elementary school, my mom took my brother and I on a road trip.
It was exciting that we were going to see my cousin!
When my mom and aunt started in talking heavily right away, nothing seemed unusual,
Except, when we all rushed out to find the trunk emptied of our luggage, stolen,
I thought it odd that my mom filed a police report, crying it was “everything she had,” before our return home.
A second incident of note occurred in junior high when my mom came crying that she was leaving my dad.
My first response was happiness that she finally found respect for herself,
But was followed by tears at her own sadness. Why was she so sad about it?
Turns out, both times, she had discovered suitcases of women’s underwear that my dad had stolen
For, what I would learn, was his secret life as a transvestite.
In that moment, when truth was revealed, I spent time in shock of what I was ignorant of.
Since then, I discovered more and more about human sexuality, came up with more questions about gender,
And learned how many times sexuality and gender are completely different.
We are souls and spirits wrapped by flesh.
We find definition in outer appearance, yet our inner beings aren’t so parallel.
My walls of seeming morality crashed down to a journey of understanding
Of the vast array of our non-heterosexual existences.
We get lost when our selves don’t match up with the accepted “normality” of the heterosexual life.
Very few of us have desires that blend with who we are said to be.
Our views translate to confusion when met with experiential existence.
If my father was able to talk honestly with me about the psychological trauma of his childhood,
We would all be able to blend on the plain of our humanity.
Shock is only held as a reaction when truth is suddenly revealed after life explodes to the surface.
There is no sense in holding others up to a vision outside of reality.
Compassion and understanding have to come first.
After my mom’s “At least I don’t wear women’s underwear” statement,
And my dad’s weak, awkward follow up, “At least I don’t wear men’s underwear,”
Life changed for me dramatically. The cracks in the imperfect religious structure were shown.
I am determined to wear my cracks on my sleeve
For I am not a rock but a fluctuating being ready to understand the world once thought dark.
If you take time to understand the ins and outs of me,
I, most likely, have already allowed you in so that I can see your flaws on par with my own.
There is no way that rejection of myself or others will ever override my view of you.
Let’s do life together, with all that means.
The hard and soft, the easily shown and the untouchable.
My acceptance of who God is has evolved outside of the religious society that has surrounded me.
It makes no difference who the people in my life claim to be, only who they actually are.
Paying no mind to differences, we can get down to the grit of our unity,
Our thinking, feeling, and being;
That is when life is shown the most beautiful.
