One of Mama Kat’s writing prompts this week is “something you learned in August”. I didn’t think my intolerance of labels could get any more severe, but during late August and early September it has. So it’s time for a rant.
Lily Rose Depp, sixteen-year-old daughter of Johnny Depp, recently “came out” as “sexually fluid”. Let’s look at the definition of “fluid”:
a substance, as a liquid or gas, that is capable of flowing and that changes its shape at a steady rate when acted upon by a force tending to change its shape.
pertaining to a substance that easily changes its shape; capable of flowing.
consisting of or pertaining to fluids.
changing readily; shifting; not fixed, stable, or rigid
convertible into cash
I think it’s safe to assume this young woman was referring to her sexuality as shifting; not being fixed, stable, or rigid. I’m glad to hear it, Lily – thanks for sharing. I, for one, am very happy my sexuality has shifted from what it was at age sixteen. So is my husband of twenty-nine years. I have a sixteen-year-old son, and I sincerely hope his sexuality is fluid, otherwise he’ll still be single, living with me, and laughing at boob jokes when he’s forty-five.
In the interest of full disclosure, I’d also like to announce that I’m spiritually fluid, intellectually fluid, and politically fluid. I’m also willing to run for President next year if no one more reasonable steps forward.
But the chipper talking head who announced Miss Depp’s fluidity defined it as meaning she was “somewhere on the spectrum – not heterosexual”. So in other words I’m this bleak little gray dot at the edge of the page because I’ve been in a monogamous relationship with a member of the opposite sex for thirty years (sanctioned by Church and state, which probably makes me an even more dull shade of gray) while two men who have been in a monogamous relationship the same amount of time are over there frolicking on the colorful spectrum? I’m not buying into this.
It probably wouldn’t have set me off if I hadn’t seen this posted on Facebook a few days earlier:
A serious personal goal of mine to shift a minimum of 25% of my money to black owned businesses. If you are the owner of a black owned restaurant, grocery store, clothing store, etc please let me know
I read it several times, trying to decide how I felt about it. It was posted by a black male who owns his own local business. I wondered if he would feel slighted if I chose to go to another business similar to his simply because it was female-owned. This man is brilliant and enthusiastic, and seems to have attained the work/family/spiritual balance the rest of us struggle so hard with. But this one post bothered me. So I messaged him. I included a short video about the latest product available from my small business, and asked if a business owned by a bi-racial person would meet his standards. I held in my hand a 1910 census form that listed my grandfather as “mulatto”. Is it true? No one knows. He’s listed as “white” on another census, but if I learned anything from my time on Ancestry.com it’s that the census-takers weren’t the sharpest tools in the shed. Anyway, he didn’t communicate further, so I guess I didn’t make the cut.
But Obama will always be known as America’s First Black President, even though his mom was glaringly white and he was raised by his white grandparents. Is he “more” Black because he married a Black woman? And why are we back to Black again instead of African-American? Yes, Black Lives Matter fits better on a poster board. But then there was the Spokane, Washington leader of the NAACP who ended up being much more Caucasian than me! But she “identified” as Black. And, of course, there’s the young trans-gender teen who insisted on using the girls’ locker room rather than the private unisex one. And two hundred girls protested having someone with a penis in their locker room – duh.
Why do we insist on labeling everyone and dividing ourselves further? Why assume you have more in common with someone who is the same race, gender, religion, or sexual orientation as you? One of the most hurtful things ever said to me was said in the gathering area of my church by a fellow parishioner who matches me in all those areas. I would have given anything to have Ru Paul to talk to instead.
Wait – RU PAUL 2016!!! Dressed male or female he has more charisma than anyone else we’ve been offered. And nearly any political situation can be covered by that fabulous smile alone or one of his patented Drag Race phrases: “Don’t F&*K it up!” or “Sashay away!”
I’m feeling much better now. Thank you, if you read all the way through my rant. I’ll now be hunting down Ru Paul’s agent to check his availability for 2016. Girlfriend’s got a country to run!