Oh but I
Need some time off from that emotion
Time to pick my heart up off the floor
And when that love comes down
Well it takes a strong man baby
But I’m showing you the door
– “Faith” by George Michaels
So tonight, it is so late, and I am so awake. I’m just sitting here thinking. About all kinds of things. Things that make me happy, things that make me sad, who’ll I’ll send my first letter from overseas to (because an email wouldn’t be sufficient). Somehow, I got to thinking about how I feel about this whole Prop 8 biz, and just the entire idea of same sex couples in general.
I’ve said often, that this life is for the strong and the rich. Lots of folks ain’t rich. And these days, lot’s of folks ain’t so strong. And sometimes, when you’re not strong enough, you need somebody to hold you up. Or hold you down. Or just fucking hold you. And not with the view that they will tell you that everything will be alright. Not with the view that their holding you will make everything alright. Sometimes, you just need someone to hold on to until you’re alright with things not being alright.
When a person has that need, I just don’t see myself as qualified to tell them where they should turn to satiate it. Baldwin once wrote about seeking false and meaningless physical comfort, and how doing such impedes love that’s true and real entering your life. I just don’t see how one could be doing themselves any favors if they are seeking love from a source they don’t want. I know how taboo it is. I know that I have dear friends who will adamantly disagree with me. But I also know what it’s like to need the deep void filled. I just think that life sends us so many curve balls, pit falls and brick walls, sometimes, you’ve gotta grow a pair and break the rules a little for some respite.
I’ve been thinking alot about my parents; the traditional heterosexual, Christian conservative values couple. They had been married 18 years. Eighteen years of struggling, raising kids, worshipping together. She passed away one afternoon in a long ago November. My father was engaged to one of her “dearest” friends that January. Now, I had to go through a lot of forgiveness with this. Because my father is the only parent I have. His wife makes him happy. But there is part of me that is still so raw that in 18 years, he didn’t even get the chance to miss her. After 18 years, he erased her and pulled the next number. And that’s Christian love? That’s what the big fight is to preserve?
I remember being married, and still going to church. When it was discovered that i had left my husband, that scheduled a meeting with us to counsel my “family.” When I ran down the abuse that I had dealt with, physical and mental; the indignities that I had to cope with, including the fact that he had fathered another woman’s child; and that I felt as though no one would really understand me, they proved my assumption to be true. The same people that gave my father congradulatory pats on the back for all but scorching the earth that held my mother’s remains, told me to pray that I could frogive him because preserving my marriage would be pleasing to God. How? Or for that matter, what marriage? I can’t think of five minutes of that ordeal, that would qualify as ordained and holy.
Sometimes it just seems that there are the rules for us, and then there are the rules for those who make the rules. When you have tears that won’t stop flowing, feel alone, feel forgotten – in those moments, I know how priceless a well placed hand on the cheek can be. There are far too many other battles to fight, to legislate just how that hand should look.