September 27, 2016 - 10:46
When I was a fiftth grader my parent got divorced. There were no custody wars, no one week on one week off, and no hatred. Except there divorce was different than most. Yes, it did rip the family in half and it did cause pain but it was good. My mother need to find herself. Two years later, she became domestic partners with Cecilia and one year after that they married legally at an episcopalian Church in California and again when it became legal in the nation.
The real slip came a year before my mother and father divorced, but while they were arguing and my mother was having a marital affair with another woman, later her wife. As 12 year kid, I knew nothing of the relationships crumble and since first grde I had attended a catholic school that not only taught us the doctrine but instilled in us the "traditional values" of the Church on family, gender, and morals. I don't regret this part of my life but in retrospect they cause many internal problems in the long run. My bestfriend at the time and first love had taught me the naive intellecutal (nerd child) and she social street smart girl. She taught me about slangs including but not limited to derogitory terms for people and groups.
Fast forward a couple months to a family get together with my mother's side for the birthdays in November. We played "Life" and my mother and I were partnered. When we passed the marriage tile, my Aunt jokingly asked my mother do you want a blue (male) or pink (female) passanger. Not understanding the situation and also knowing very little about the queer community except for what my school and friends said, I quickly responded with "Pink duh I'm not a lesbo." Much to the chagrin of my mother and bisexual aunt, I let my words slip. The irony is that the slip affected me more than it did my family members. I remember fretting over at night wondering what color passenger I did ultimately want.
The slip was a misunderstand of self bigotry and it was something I later came to terms with, but for some reason the experience stays vivid in my mind. I know excatly how it went and I recall minor details of that moment more esaily that I could describe yesterday. I learned something about myself and the people around me by letting my tongue slip. That what I get from Anne Dalke's piece. Life is a little chaotic and sometimes you say things you regret or that awaken you to something you didn't know but ultimately will lead you closer progress if you eradicate that bigotry in yourself.