Don’t want to talk March 17, 2008

After an incident with my aunt the other week, I suddenly don’t feel like talking with her.

I said it was OK that she told me what she was thinking, about my relationship with Jade, or our ceremony

But it wasn’t.

I thought I wanted honesty. I want to be honest myself, but when it comes down to it, I don’t like the disapproval.

I could have it a lot worse. My aunt still loves me, serves as a go-between for me and my dad if needed. Jade’s mom exudes disapproval every time they speak. But I think I just expected a little better from my aunt, the sister I never had.

Late at night, on my way home from work, I’ve been getting the urge to call my aunt and shoot the breeze, but then I remember I’m still mad at her. Not mad, disappointed. Disappointed in her the same way she’s disappointed in me.

I wish she’d work a little harder to overcome her disapproval. She doesn’t have to understand. She doesn’t have to bring religion into it. She should just love me. And she does love me, but she doesn’t try very hard.

But I don’t have anything to talk about right now that doesn’t involve me and Jade and the upcoming ceremony. With a real effort the last time we spoke, she brought it up herself, shocking us both. But I don’t want it to be an effort. I don’t want it to be forced. If you don’t like the fact that I love another woman enough to go through a really stressful, complicated ceremony, I am not going to change for you. I don’t care.

But I do care in some other way. Enough that it bugs me. Enough that I don’t want to talk when there’s nobody else to talk to. I don’t want to relay the minutiae of our wedding plans to the one person who otherwise wouldn’t mind hearing every little detail.

In a way, it’s been easier to talk to my father. Because we just don’t talk about that.

To my surprise, I finally got his response card in the mail the other day. I sent an invitation to his house and didn’t think I would get a response. But we got it, weeks after the deadline. He must have struggled. And I know he sent it, and not my stepmom, because the handwriting is his own.

We had a lengthy conversation the other day, just as two friends. He mentioned my brother’s trip to see me. We danced around why he was coming. I told him about my time-off problems, but again, no mention of why it was so important to have that Saturday off.

I love my dad, and I don’t want to open that gulf of noncommunication the way my aunt has, by expressing her mild disapproval at every turn. So we don’t talk about it. He’s not comfortable talking about it, obviously, and I certainly am not.

I wish I could be fiery, like other people coming out, who just make their parents face the obvious. Jade, at least, had the guts to tell her mom to her face. Even if that has ruined their relationship forever.

I can’t whip out lesbian politics. I can’t explain that my love for Jade is not about gender, anyway. I get stopped at the gate because I don’t like to argue, and because my dad refuses to discuss it, and because my aunt throws religion out there.

Maybe it’s just that I’ve expected that my family would love me no matter what, and that I’ve gotten along for so long, doing whatever I want, and still am held up as the good child.

I’m still the good child, but I’m tainted.

We just don’t talk about that. Unwritten family mantra. We didn’t talk about a bunch of other problems when I was growing up, and that probably explains a lot. Don’t talk about it amongst yourselves, and never, ever tell strangers.

I want to talk, but I don’t have anyone to talk to. Not in the family, anyway. Even my brother has made it clear he doesn’t really want to talk about it. So I don’t.