Love

 

My doctor, and a person I don’t know sitting in the doctor’s waiting room:
“Yeah, get all of that traveling in before you get married!”

The hairdresser, and my grandpa:
“So, is there a boyfriend in your life these days?”
Me: “No, not really”
“Oh, well, you’re probably so busy these days, you just have no time for that, I’m sure.”

A boy from my high school shouting at me as I get into my car outside a store:
“Hey, girl, you got a man in your life?”
Me: “Nope”
“So you’re single? That’s great!”
Me: “Nope”
Confused looks and abrupt silence.

These are things I notice now, that I am ashamed to admit I did not notice before.  Things of my life—of the life of the society I live in—that make me conscious of the fact that I am gay, that I am not what society considers “the norm”.  These quick, seemingly meaningless interactions are the things that convey the heteronormativity that breathes inside the society I live in.  The assumption of heterosexuality.  The expectation of straightness.  The universal approval of straightness.
And not of anything that is so-called “other” than.

It is because of this—
because of society’s blindfold of norms and expectations and stereotypes and homophobia and sexism and and and…—
that I am still trying
to let myself believe
to let others know (when I feel that they should)
to let myself accept
to let myself  embrace,
(as I CRAVE to)
my love
love
LOVE of women—

of the  beauty I find
in bodies,
 
     in hearts,

in soft skin,

                             in minds connected,

in voice,

in laughter,

in body parts that I share,

in  my own body,
in faces,
in gentle eyes,

          in shared experience,

in shared love,

in love,
in heart,
in words,

in soft  soft  soft  skin,

 in touch telling
stories

in touch telling love.

 

- Anonymous

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