Ms. Understood

You know that feeling that no one understands you? You had it when you were 15, even if you were popular. Everyone feels like that at 15. At some point, most of us realize that everyone feels that way. We know that everyone, whether they understand us or not, feels misunderstood. We accept this. We feel less misunderstood.

I am a lesbian. I am not exaggerating when I say that I am regularly misunderstood by the people who love and support me. LGBT allies say insensitive things. Some of them snap to attention. Many of them don’t.

I can’t turn off being a lesbian. I can think about life and the world and humanity without separating myself from them, but I cannot stop being who I am. I cannot stop looking out for myself. When I speak up, I am asking you to listen. I spend a lot of time assuming the best intentions from others, more than you think I do. You have privileges. You expect me to speak out against homophobia and heterosexism, but you aren’t willing to look at your own behavior to realize that you are doing it, too.

You’re asserting your privilege when...
· I speak up and you think I’m overreacting.
· You refuse to take the initiative to find out what went wrong.
· You ignore my comments because you know that you are not a bigot, even though you know that I am addressing you.
· I speak up and you say, “But what about me?”
· You say, “I’m already a supporter. What else do you want me to do?”
· You use your gay/lesbian/bisexual friend/sibling/cousin/neighbor as evidence of your nonbigotedness.
· You conflate gay issues with lesbian issues with bisexual issues.
· You refuse to acknowledge that you can take a break from fighting homophobia.
· You pat yourself on the back for writing to congress and voting against anti-gay legislation.
· You assume that I understand as little about heterosexuality as you do about homosexuality.
· A discussion about the presence of heterosexism gives you something to think about.

My family structure is constantly being undermined by people who don't have anything against lesbians and gays. Everywhere I look, life is about being heterosexual. Life is not about me. It's about you. Your children are probably produced through an act of sexual congress with your spouse. Your doctors and nurses affirm your family structure throughout pregnancy and childbirth. You and your spouse are both legal parents of your child. You don't risk having that child taken away from you because you are heterosexual. Other children won't tell yours that her/his very existence is a sin and a crime against nature. You don't fear for your child's life just because you're in a heterosexual marriage. Both you and your spouse can enroll your children in school or seek medical care for them. The forms at the doctor's office fit your family just fine. You never need to have the birth certificate reissued. No one wants to make it illegal for you to be a parent.

The voters of my state have made it perfectly clear that I'm not welcome here. My country is trying to do the same thing. I consider myself incredibly fortunate that my employer offers health insurance for my partner, even though I have to pay taxes on my employer's costs for insuring her. Those taxes come out of my pay, and at the end of the year, I come home with almost $1000 less than I would if I were married to a man. Because we're both women, that $1000 means a lot.

I am constantly fighting stereotypes and being asked insensitive questions. Which one of us is "the man"? Which is going to be the mom? Do I do the girly stuff, or does she? Where do you get sperm? Why don't you just adopt? Don't you think it'll be really hard to raise a kid without a dad?

When I die, the newspaper may charge extra for including my partner's name in my obituary because she's not my "family."