The door was opened and there she stood. This beautiful punk rock girl in sweats, hardly any make-up, wondering what in the hell I was doing at her door with a brown paper bag. She started off with a big smile and “Hi! What are you doing here?” I, on the other hand, was exploding inside as the whole time I had been focused on whether or not to come over and knock on the door itself, I clearly had been too stupid to play it through in my head as to what might happen if the door indeed opened. I must have stood there for at least thirty seconds before acknowledging my own name.
I’ll start my journey off when my sexuality reared its head and wanted to be heard in the 10th grade. Like so many of us, I had crushes on friends, teachers, I even had the Farrah Fawcett swimsuit poster on my wall at age 10 (GET A CLUE MOM) but nothing had really happened other than a few childhood kisses here and there that I’m pretty sure more than us gay women have.
I know that when talking among my own minister and many of my friends, we have often talked of this Jesus and what kind of a man he would be today if he walked among us. I have heard many things – an activist protesting social injustices such as the death penalty, treatment of the poor and ill, and as he would fight for all he believed in against abortion at some stage; a community organizer of a magnitude we have never seem before (step aside with your fancy talk, President Obama, Jesus is here!); an environmentalist on a stage somewhere shaking hands with Al Gore; and someone we could all look up to as a model of how to live our lives honestly and with dignity.
For those of you paying attention to last week’s blog, you will remember when I first let it slip that I was adopted in Alice, You’ve Really Stepped In It Now!!!!, I wrote, “I have an allegory to being born into religion and that complete acceptance, that blind faith, that so many in the religious community have.” I compared that fact of being brought up in a completely different, loving and wonderful family not genetically my own was akin to being raised Catholic, Islamic, or Jew. It was a fact I had accepted as the truth that the people who took me home from the hospital the day after I was born were my parents, the same way children born into one religion would almost always stay that religion their entire life, regardless of knowledge, life experience or morality.
What Would Sappho Say? Lectori Salutem! or L.S. (Greetings to the Reader!) On one of the other sites this blog is posted on a woman trying to discover her sexuality asked innocently, “How does one know if she’s a lesbian before actually engaging with a girl if even straight girls like lesbian porn? I started [...]
