While I tried my hardest to be out and proud during that relationship with a man, I have now realized just how much I was benefiting from the heterosexual privilege. Even though my politics and identity were queer, many straight people treated me with the privileges of a fellow straight person since they saw that I was dating a man.
Six months ago my parents came to the US to visit my sister. She lives few miles away from me. My parents were ready to visit me too as long as "that person" (my BF) was not present when they visit and I agreed not to talk about him. I was outraged. I said enough is enough, this is not fair, my partner is part of my family and I can't accept my parent's conditions. They didn't budge. For most of their 6 month visit we didn't see each other or talk. They were fine with that.
It is Wedding season on Gaysi! (Miss Zero's "Gaysi Wedding Dreams" & "My Dream : Super Lesbian Wedding"). Apparently this is also the season of TamBrahms! (Shri's "Aththai" & Rashmi's "Am I a Queer TamBrahm?").
“I remember how being young and black and gay and lonely felt. A lot of it was fine, feeling I had the truth and the light and the key, but a lot of it was purely hell.”
This quote made me giggle a little, even though I don’t think it was supposed to be funny, just because I can understand the sentiment - from my own perspective, at least.
So when I realised my Queerness was not going anywhere, I was shocked, ashamed and confused. It was intense because I was also ashamed of being a TamBram. ... it took me a whole decade to understand that being Queer and being TamBram can mutually exist.
It's been over a month since I've returned to London, from my trip to India. I've been wanting to write about what happened there with my parents, but haven't been able to bring myself to do it. I think I'm finally ready.
I questioned Curly about her implicit trust in me. Apparently Curly trusted me oodles coz I was from the Gaysi Family. That right folks, people in this family can be trusted. Tell us all your secrets.
My younger brother was out to a holiday party, and my parents asked me to come sit with them. I was assuming they wanted to watch an old Malayalam movie with me or something, but in retrospect that would have been the less torturous option. Instead, my parents wanted to discuss my “lesbian tendencies”. I’m beginning to think my dad should copyright the phrase “lesbian tendencies” for usage by future homophobes/jerks.
Recently my closest friend that I ever had and lost told me “sorry,” the apology I was waiting for but got after I stopped expecting it.
She realized she needed to talk to me more but I realized I needed to listen more.
I want to be that go-to friend. I want to stay up all night listening, not talking.
Nervously, I rubbed the baking soda and water mixture into my scalp and rinsed it out with diluted lemon juice. I was surprised that the kitchen supplies actually cleaned my hair. After getting dressed I rinsed my face with the rose and honey face wash I had made the night before. I was so proud of myself, but very amused by the whole routine.
... when the conversation goes past the usual "Hi, Bye and what did you cook?", I know this is a coming out process starting all over again.
Here’s the deal. Yes, I’m bisexual. I don’t like the word (I greatly prefer “queer”), but I’ll use it for simplicity’s sake here.
I visited New Jersey last year to visit some family friends and we took a daytrip to Manhattan. I wasn’t paying attention to the scenery, but when I was paying attention I wasn’t really that impressed. New Jersey was boring and Manhattan was claustrophobic.
I was never the type of person who had the big dreams of moving to either coast, and I (unfairly) looked down at those people in High School that did because they rarely moved to those places in the end.
By letting you know I am Queer, I brought you into my closeted world – where the rules of society are stifling and empathy runs rampant. It is hardly a terrible place, the people in it make the best of it – they live and love when the whole world points and stares and decides for them otherwise. I knew how hard it would be for you. I knew I would be responsible for everything you went through hearing of my sexuality.
I first came out to my parents about a year and a half ago. I hadn't been in college for a full year yet, but I was already tired of keeping secrets. It went over like a lead balloon, and my parents were both upset and disbelieving - they considered it a phase. We barely mentioned it again, and eventually, I became aware that I would need to come out....again. However, I didn't plan to do it anytime soon - I fully intended to wait until I was done with school. Life had other plans....
What do I mean? Well, I went to a co-ed school. I read books and had people about me who thought that finding out stuff about sex was to be expected and encouraged. So theoretically speaking I’d come across the possibility of same-sex relationships by the time I was, maybe, 12ish. (Okay, that’s cause I used to sneak into the adults section of the library.) It took me till 15ish to realize people around me, grown up or otherwise thought same-sex sex was a hideous awful thing and people so inclined were sick, genetically or otherwise.
Here’s a look at an article published on CNN Go (Asia) stating the 10 Gifts from Mumbai’s LGBT community.
As I have been juggling 5 different medications for my epilepsy I have been lifeless, friendless, and loveless. As I have stopped eating I have lost weight and I have been secretly excited about it. Who is this that is excited about being skinny again? I thought I was that fat-positive queer, feminist. Where has she gone?
Now, I am not known as an affectionate person. Strangers have been warned by others not to attempt hugging me randomly. I kiss family. Sure, I hug friends. But these folks have been around for large chunks of my life and I truly love them. Since hugs are the new handshakes, I engage in some of that hogwash as well. However, I am a cuddler. You and me be canoodling?
I have noticed that straight desi girls and ladies, sometimes the ones who haven’t been through trials, often have weak relationships with their mothers or “just-for-show” relationships with their mothers. These friends often seem jealous of the fact that I am close to my mother. What they do not realize is that it took my mother a long time to come to understand me, her youngest daughter. It was a rickety journey after which she became my lovely little mummy.