The first essay discussed how hard it was to come to terms with being biracial and finding out where exactly to belong, and while I'm not biracial, I feel the same sort of confusion when I visit India. For a long time when I was younger, I was determined to not give up being Indian, as if embracing the American culture that surrounded me would somehow erase that part of me completely. When people asked where I was from, I would tell them India even though I knew they meant where do you live. Excessive use of italics aside, I was (and am) a stubborn kid, and even now my fingers want to type 'when I visit home' instead of 'when I visit India.' When I do go back, the culture clash is very obvious. Apart from the heritage and language barrier that I talked about in class yesterday, it's evident even in casual conversation. My cousins, all a few years older than me, all talk about the latest movies they've seen and the latest kind of clothes out there (I didn't even know designer saris existed before this summer). As Anthony said, "I don't look the part that's played me." I look like I should fit in with them perfectly, especially when my aunts have dolled me up in a beautiful borrowed sari and hastily-fitted blouse, but I actually have no basis to relate to them with. I haven't found the blend of cultures that will work for me yet, but I'm working on it.
The other essays dealt with exploring and discovering sexuality and ultimately the authors' families' reactions towards their coming out. This is the part that I can't really relate to, not because I'm heterosexual (I'm not), but because I haven't officially come out to my parents and because (as far as I can tell) my parents do not disapprove or abhor homosexuality.
In actuality, I've only officially told
There were a couple of things that stood out in the other essays; one phrase in particular from Johnny Lee's essay was how he "didn't have to alter the pronouns I used when referring to people [he] was attracted to." It may seem like a little thing, but to have the general response surrounding such questions always be using gender-based pronouns. It was always "Are there any guys you like?" to me, and after finally coming to terms with myself I felt so stifled and smothered. I wanted to respond with something like "No, but what if there were some girls?" when I was asked, but I was far too cautious to respond. I'd respond with gender-neutral answers when people asked me what I looked for -- yes, in a guy. My replies were always along the lines of "Oh, they...." or "Yeah, I think I like people who...", although I don't think anyone picked up on it.
The reason that I can't really relate (yet?) to the majority of the second essays is because in both cases, the families involved were vehemently, vocally disapproving of being gay. For my part, my parents are very liberal and open with me (for the most part). We watch The Colbert Report together and we talk about almost everything that happens in my life, and from what I've seen so far I can draw the tentative conclusion that they don't find homosexuality repulsive as some do. I'm sure they've suspected on occasion because I'm very opinionated about certain issues, but I've never told them anything explicitly. (It hasn't stopped my mom from asking whether I was going to bring a guy -- or a girl -- home at any point. For the record, I didn't answer.) Where I am currently, my sexuality isn't really a secret, but since heterosexuality is assumed until proven otherwise, it may well be a shock to anyone who figures out.
Cheers.
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