All New! PSA

So we moved into our new place. And being from a place where the sun actually functions, we didn't think about certain things, like sidewalk salt, that you think about up here. And uh, I fell and broke my ass. Yeah. My ass, knee, and (somehow?) neck were severely battered by my impromptu attempt to get airborne yesterday morning. So now we have sidewalk salt on our very slippery, icy back steps. And I have a really interesting bruise.  If you live somewhere cold, please salt your steps and sidewalk. Pretty please.

(My ass is expected to recover.)

That is all.

I'm Poor As Hell But Twice As Pretty

So with this move, I forgot that internet takes a long time to set up in advance- longer, if you're me, apparently. So we have no Net at our awesome new place, for at least the next two weeks. 

So unless I get motivated and go to Starbucks to post my latest angst-fest, you won't see much of me. 

Sorry.

Bear with me here, I'm gettin' the shakes without my daily hit of Interwebs.

Privilege-Shock

So I got an interesting wake-up call the other day. My Ferret and I have been apartment-hunting for the last few weeks or so and we finally found one we liked. The landlord was a friendly, good-natured guy and we were in the process of signing the lease, when he checked her work reference and came out of the other room with a... well, a look on his face. My Ferret is quite butch and she gets mistaken for a dude all the time. Our landlord-to-be had made the same assumption and finally figured it out, and he was- I think the word is flummoxed. 

We'd already made it quite clear that we were a couple, and he was having trouble reconciling the nice, normal couple he thought we were with the people his church and political views say are Bad. I could almost see his thoughts swirling.

He was nice about it- just said some things about being surprised, stammered a bit, made reference to he and his wife being all Christian and Republican. I told him so are most of my clients, as well as Ferret's family, and asked him, straight-up, if this was going to be a problem. 

He said it wasn't a problem, for him, personally. I'm not sure what that meant, and I'm still a little wary.

I'm pretty sure it's federally illegal to deny someone housing on the basis of sexual orientation (can someone tell me if I'm right about that?), but hell, I'm not going to live where I'm not wanted. I had a file full of other options in my computer.

 

The thing is- his surprise surprised me.  I generally treat being gay as no big deal, and assume others will too. This is partially because to do anything else would be to admit to the Othering that society wants to do to me, and partially because that's how I've always done it: where I come from it IS no big deal. In SoFlo, there were pockets of rightwingers and fundies, but mostly it's considered declasse' to raise a ruckus if someone mentions that they're gay.

Apparently, not so much the rule here in the MidWest. I have the feeling most of the people in this town have never met a gay couple, much less seen them interact like any other couple does. I know there are indeed gay folks here, but I haven't seen many, and I'm told they're "very discreet", which I think is straight-speak for "they know their place and don't make us nervous by being open or acting like actual couples".

Ferret- well, if people don't assume she's a dude, they kinda just jump to "dyke", which saves a lot of dancing around. She's as open as I am, with the "if they don't like it, fuck 'em" mentality. It's pretty rare that anyone tries to mess with her anyway.  

 I know I have white privilege, able privilege, and passing-for-straight privilege. This is the first time I'd realized: I had "location privilege". Just someone being taken aback by us, much less maybe-resistant to us renting from him, shook me. What must it be like for so many other gays, trapped in the heart of the Bible Belt, or ultrareligioconservative towns or families? Without support or a place to be open about themselves? What must it be like to hide who you are, all the time?

I chose not to hide. I'm proud of who I am and playing the Pronoun Game gives me a headache anyway. But I didn't realize how easy life made it for me to choose, how lucky I was to have that choice at all. It all makes me very uncomfortable, and sometimes it makes me wish I was back in South Florida.

"Did Your Mother Abort You?"

That's the question an anti-choicer says he raised to various people in South Dakota.

I have asked many people: “Did your Mother abort you?” Before they could answer, I answered for them, saying, “No, she did not. She gave you life.”

What a stupid fucking question. And how convenient that he answers for them. Y'know, I was gonna quote Cara's response to that, and then reply, but instead I'm just gonna link to her article about the SD Abortion Ban Attempt of ought-eight! and you can read her takedown of that awful trope.

And instead of posting this as a long-ass comment on Cara's thread, I decided to post it here and see if I'd get my Very First Troll! So here goes:

I was a wanted baby. Really wanted, first child, mom-standing-on-her-head-after-sex-to-get-pregnant wanted. That makes me really happy, and my mom's never seemed to find her firstborn lacking in redeeming qualities, so I feel I haven't been a letdown in the face of all that anticipation (kinda like having a kid that's the equivalent of socks and underwear for Christmas). And oh by the way, now that I'm here on Earth, I kinda dig it, so that's cool. I'm glad my mom had me, don't get me wrong.

But you know what? Had circumstances been different? Had my mom gotten pregnant at a bad time (couldn't afford, wouldn't have been able to go to school, in a bad relationship, etc.), or before she was ready, or if she just hadn't wanted a kid? Had that been the case, if I could *magically* have told my mother what I, the zygote/fetus/embryo, would've wanted? It would've been for her to have an abortion. I love my mother, and wouldn't have wanted her to give birth to a child she wasn't ready for, couldn't take care of, that might damage her life and that she might resent having to raise. It wouldn't have been to subject her body to nine months of physical and emotional stress only to have to deal with the (probable) emotional wrench of handing me over as soon as I was born to strangers or an indifferent State system. 

For my sake, I wouldn't have wanted to grow up in the overcrowded, oft-hostile fostercare system. I wouldn't have wanted to grow up knowing I was responsible for family hardships or that I was an unwanted burden, or worse, being told that by my parents. And oh yeah, there are some sanctimonious pricks who preach that "We should all Choose Life, because they/she had an Unplanned Pregnancy, but they/she Had The Baby" and they do indeed say just those things to their kid. 

If your mother had aborted you, you'd have no consciousness to know it, and thus it wouldn't bother "you", the embryo, about whom the whole fuss is about. If your mother had you because she was forced/coerced/had no other choice, your life and your mother's are likely to be a whole lot different.

And since I'm not afraid to put the personal in the political, I'll say this. If it were me, making this choice, having an unplanned pregnancy? Well, (aside from the fact that it's highly unlikely at this point and that I'd have to do a lot of explaining to my girlfriend,) I know I don't want children. Not now, pretty much not ever. If I do go crazy enough to decide I want that kind of sacrifice and responsibility, I'll adopt a kid: there're way too many kids who need a home to be just bringin' more into the world, willy-nilly. So IF I were to get pregnant? I'd have an abortion. I've known that from the first time I contemplated third base. I don't presume to tell other women what they must do, and I'm unapologetic about the choice I would make.

The life of a living, breathing, thinking woman should top the rights of a bunch of cells using her for a life support system. Sorry, sounds harsh. But true.