Living in 2013

Nostalgia for simpler times seems like a common theme amongst people I know. I totally understand it. It's easy to wax nostalgia for what seems like better days. We remember times when people took pride in their neighborhood schools and communities, when children could play freely outside and ride bikes around town. There is a Normal Rockwell-like quality to this nostalgia. Everything seemed simpler and safer. Sometimes I even succumb to this nostalgia. However, the rose colored lenses through which I view my childhood also blind me to how it "really was." Certainly people of color, sexual minorities, and women have more opportunity today than 60 years ago. While I long for a community where I can be highly involved, want to know and have good relationships with my neighbors, and frustrate easily over the complexities of living in the 21st century, I also know that I am much better off living in 2013 than I would have been in the 1950's & 1960's. 

First, In 1960 I probably wouldn't have lived past the age of 30 due to Crohn's and Crohn's complications. I am so grateful for the medical interventions that have allowed me to live a relatively normal life. Along those same lines I am grateful for the medical interventions that allow my son to be a pretty normal 2 year old. While his future is unknown, I do know that had he been born as little as 15 years earlier he would not have received the same treatment for his hyperinsulinism. I doubt that a diagnosis would have come so promptly and I'm sure that he would have cognitive deficits resulting from prolonged low blood sugar. 

Second, life keeps getting better for us homos. I don't even need to explain this. In 1960 homosexuality was considered a defect, an abomination, the cardinal sin. Of course there are still people who think this (only one in my very extended family), but they have become the minority. They are becoming more and more ashamed to voice these opinions out loud and when they do more straight allies are speaking up. Thank you for that. In 2013 my lesbian marriage is recognized in 9 states, plus D.C. and I am expecting very soon for Judge Vaughn Walker's ruling regarding 2008's prop 8 (boooo hissssss) to be upheld in the Supreme Court. Optimist that I am, I am convinced that gay marriage will be recognized in my home state of California once again. I think it will happen this year. My family has been incredibly supportive. I never even had to give time for them to adjust. They were supportive from the start and I'm not one of those obvious lesbians, although I've been working with a variety of hairstylists to try to fix this. In general, though, people don't know I'm a lesbian until I start talking about my wife, which usually happens before anyone voices any comments that give away their heteronormative assumptions. Back to my family...I love telling the story of how I came out to my grandmother. We sat on her stoop and I quickly cut to the point. Here is how our conversation went:

C: "Grandma, I'm gay."

G: "How do you know...how are you sure?"

C: "Well, I've dated both and I'm just know."

G: "Well yes, I suppose you do. That is an excellent point."

As I remember it that was the end of the conversation. Maybe she asked if I was dating anyone (I wasn't). It wasn't a problem and there just wasn't much more to say about it. The summer that I came out to her I came out to nearly all of my family. That was truly the end of my being in the closet. For the previous 3 years I had slowly been coming to terms with myself and telling people who I was closest to and thought would be the most supportive. As it turns out EVERYONE in my life was supportive. Many of my friends had figured it out before I did. My only regret is not coming out to my grandfather. He passed away the October before I told my grandmother. I thought we would have one more summer with him. If he had made it to that summer I would have had the conversation with both of them, as my younger, braver cousin did. I know he would have been supportive, there's not a doubt in my mind, and I wish he could have seen me come into myself and grow the confidence that comes with being able to truly be oneself. I miss him and think of him often.