Diary of a Mad Black Lesbian: Perception is Everything

I’ve been told I don’t look gay, whatever that means. As a matter of fact, one woman’s exact words — and mind you this is from a girl I was crushing on at the time were, “I just can’t see you being gay.”

Maybe it’s because I dress a tad bit on the conservative side. Maybe it’s because of my petite stature, standing at around five feet tall. Or maybe it’s because I look young for age, as I’ve been told many a time (I was carded for lottery tickets a couple weeks ago; I’m 30.

But the gist is that, apparently, I’m straight-looking. To some, I don’t look like I have girlfriends or could kiss a woman, among other things. It used to bother me back in the day, especially when I was single and looking. Whereas my former roommate could simply walk on campus and meet several new female friends at the drop of a hat, I was stuck with the perception that I just needed “a good man in my life.”

It also made it harder for my mother when I came out to her. In her head, she had seen me wear dresses and makeup (unlike my older sister) and have boyfriends. In her view of me, my mother could never imagine me as a lesbian. To this day, she still utters, “I just can’t believe it.”

It’s that age old debate lesbians have about which role has an easier time coming out – femmes or studs/butches. Lebron would argue that it’s better to come out as a femme because afterward, a feminine women can blend bend in society  and at least your parents hold on to the dream of you having kids. This is where I disagree, because as a stud there are no misconceptions about (usually) your role. Growing up tomboyish or even flamboyantly can almost always be detected at an earlier age. Haven’t you ever seen a boy who seems a little bit too interested in dolls, instead of Tonka trucks at age 5? Let me just say that it doesn’t guarantee he’s gay, but chances are likely. And in growing up stud, the idea of being gay is always in the back of someone’s mind. Nobody blinks when they say, “Hey, Mom and Dad. I’m gay.”

“Okay, pass the peas.”

Like I said, perception is everything.

I can’t say that being straight looking is a bad thing. Most people at work don’t know about me, and I’d prefer to keep it that way. Because the things they say to me about gay folks would make them feel like assholes if they knew about my sexuality. Like the co-worker who once said to me, “If I had a friend who was gay, I would drop them.” She was serious, yet this is the same one who will tell me all her business — about how many men she’s currently juggling — but can’t understand how being gay isn’t a perversity.

And I hear these lovely tidbits only because I don’t look gay. Cause like I said, perception is everything.

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TGIF: Fire, Lesbian Daughters and Gymnasts…Oh My!

Another Friday, yet again. Not much has been going on with me. Just a few interesting incidents here and there.

Like almost setting my house on fire. I had what could have been a potentially catastrophic event. Let’s just put it this way: I don’t like fire. Have a phobia about it. I’m truly scared when I see orange flames rising. I always have been. So when I smelled the smoke and then saw the fire, I was freaking out. Luckily Lebron was there to literally put the fire out — but she had to listen to my shrieks of panic for at least 10 minutes while she wielded the fire extinguisher at the oven. Lesson no. 1, kids: always check the oven before you turn it on. Fortunately damages were minimal — unless you count our ashes and soot we got all over us. I still can’t get some of it out of my fingernails.

Other than, it’s been a pretty slow week. I’ve been reading Now It’s My Turn, the book by Mary Cheney, daughter of vice-president Dick Cheney. No, I’m not a Republican, nor do I endorrse Bush or Cheney in any form or fashion. But considering she’s the lesbian daughter of a high political official, I thought I’d be interesting to read her point of view. I was half right. It was informative to hear Mary’s trials as Dick’s right-hand girl on both his campaigns, albeit a little dry. I thought I would get more details about her personal life, as far as being a lesbian, but it doesn’t go into too many personal details. What a pity. It should have been more about her own opinions about gay issues, especially Bush’s opposition to gay marriage, but she doesn’t offer much more than observations. I was disappointed.

Speaking of political, I’ve been somewhat watching the Olympics, mostly what doesn’t bore me to tears (badminton, anyone). I prefer to watch synchronized swimming and gymnastics. That’s my favorite, especially when the women perform. I love how flexible and graceful their bodies can become. The athleticism of these women is amazing. It takes me back to my high school cheerleading days, when I performed similar feats (not nearly on their level). Sometimes I wished I had taken up gymnastics when I was a girl, but instead I chose ballet. Not that I regret it; I love to dance (and still do). Yet who knows where gymnastics could have taken me?

That’s it for today. Until next Friday…

It's All Gravy, Baby

 

In the spring, I was in the spell to join a gym – yet again. I decided that I needed to get in shape for the summer, and my sister, thanks to Weight Watchers and her trusty treadmill, had already lost about 40 pounds and was determined to get me in shape, too.

I knew I had to do something, cause as much as Lebron loves my curves, our domestic life had packed on quite a few more curves I didn’t want. Yes, it’s all gravy when you and the ms. first move in together, but then it becomes gravy and mashed potatoes and fried pork chops eventually, and never even knew what hit you. I knew I had gained a little weight, and it didn’t help when, after my weigh-in at my annual physical, I saw the proof. Luckily for me, the doctor told me I was in good shape – cholesterol and sugar fine, blood pressure good. It was a relief, but I knew my doctor wasn’t exactly proud of the extra poundage either.

However, considering I’d been heavy at the last annual physical, it was something he already knew I knew – it didn’t need to be said.

With my sister’s insistence and my own go-get it attitude about having the body I wanted, I joined a gym. This was after visiting another gym, a co-ed one, and having to deal with the probing questions of the manager. A man. One who asked questions like, “So why do you want to join a gym?” and “What’s your motivation?

Once he found out I had had a membership with his establishment before, he was all on me like white on rice. “So you joined a gym then, but you don’t go to one now. What makes you think you can keep motivated now unlike before?” he sneered. Personally, I didn’t like what he was insinuating, but I tried to keep an even tone as I gave him my answer, because I knew the reason I was there. To lose weight – and with his snotty attitude, he was giving me all the ammunition.

However, my sister and I decided on another gym, one that has women-only membership. Hey, you know that works for me on so many levels: never having to see men at while I work out, being in womanly atmosphere, seeing a lot (and I mean, a lot) of ladies I knew. And it didn’t hurt to have the fine physiques of the female specimen around.

The first couple weeks of gym membership are great. Usually, it’s the time when you tend to go the most, because you are so geeked about seeing results. That first week, I went about three times, taking different classes and seeing which one fit me. I loved Zumba, especially when I get to roll my hips and shake my carungas. That’s fun, exercising without making it feel like exercising. The kickboxing is okay, and get me pretty sore afterward.

Since joining, I will admit, I have slacked off a bit. There was a time when I was a little less geeked, and a little more lazy than I liked. I’ve fixed that attitude, and conceded the only way to get the weight off and lessen the soreness is to keep going, whether I like it or not. Besides, I am paying for this exercise torture once a month, so I better put it to good use.

Not to mention my sister looks great. That’s motivation enough for me.

TGIF: Friday Ramblings

Today is yet another lazy Friday, and I ‘m glad.

It’s the kind of day I love where right on the cusp of the weekend, when there’s so much high hopes about to spend your two days of freedom. I usually wake up with a pep in my step, getting up at 7 a.m. (okay, maybe I hit the alarm until 7:15, 7:20 the latest) to be to work by 8. I may stop by an eatery, preferably Chik-fil-A. Oh, how I love their Chick-n-Minis; it’s like a little piece of heaven on a sweet bun. Lovely

At work on a Friday, it’s the time when people seem to chill out, and the telephones slow down. I can usually get a lot of reading done, and today was no exception. I was engrossed in The Rainbow Cedar by Gerri Hill. It’s the story of two lovers who find themselves completely attracted to each other, but because of their commitments, they can never quite hook up. Jay has been with her girlfriend for 8 years, and Drew doesn’t want to ruin Jay’s relationship. It’s a lot more complicated than that, but I won’t give away the plot. It’s really just a simple love story – and I love romance stories. Not cheesy ones, like the Gerri Harlequin romance, bodice-ripping epics I used to read as a teenager. (When I look back, how could I have read such crap?). The Rainbow Cedar is different, and I’m so psyched to see how it ends. Of course I know they’ll eventually come together. I’m getting excited to see how it unfolds.

Speaking of unfolding, it is kind of interesting to see Miss Lindsay Lohan cavorting with the likes of Samantha Ronson. Nobody has really made any kind of fuss or even blinked an eye about the happy couple, other than Los Angeles police chief William Bratton, who remarked that since “Lindsay Lohan has gone gay, we don’t seem to have much of an issue” with paparazzi. Those remarks reek of a homophobia. I don’t see where it’s anybody’s business but Lindsay and Sam. Personally, I think they make a cute couple, what with Lindsay all young Hollywood glam, and Sam dressed in her best L.A. DJ gear, which apparently is ratty T-shirts, skinny jeans and a black fedora. I wish them the best, because it does seem like Lindsay has calmed down a lot. Maybe Samantha is the kind of person she needs in her life. Based on the one episode I’ve seen of Living Lohan, it’s probably better she stay with the record-spinning Sam. I wonder if it’ll become a trend in Hollywood, not like it hasn’t before.

I’ve kind of become addicted to reality shows myself. I mean, it’s too easy to get caught up in the drama of someone else’s life, even if it’s for 30-minutes of entertainment. My indulgences are Big Brother 10, and all the back-stabbing cattiness of Keesha (yes, a white girl!), Libra and Jessie. Ugh, I wish they would send arrogant-ass Jesse home. Then I set my sights on Brooke Knows Best. Cheesy, yes, I know, but that’s why they call it a guilty pleasure. Even though she’s not the sharpest tool in the shed, Brooke seems like the most sane of the Hogan clan. Then it’s time for Tori & Dean: Home Sweet Hollywood, which I luv, luv, luv. I like Tori Spelling, especially since I’m a big 90210 fan. Tori’s not as ditzy or boring as I thought, and her show really surprised me. She’s actually very funny and down-to-earth. I happen to think her and Dean make a fabulous couple, although the fact they left their spouses to be with one another is a little devious. I just hope they last; somehow I’m sure they will.

Well that’s all folks…till next Friday!