"As Long as He's Healthy": The PreConception of Able-Bodiness

After the whole "sex debacle" we had with Droidlet - "It's a girl!" and then nine days before her/his due date "It's a boy!" - the line we constantly heard from everyone in regards to our sex-switching baby was:

"Well, as long as the baby's healthy..."

Even before the in-utero sex change, many well wishers, after telling them we did find out the sex, would say something to the extent of "Well, as long as she has all her fingers and her toes!" For some reason, these statements always irked me and I could never pinpoint why.

Until now.

A friend of mine studies "Crip Theory" and we were talking the other day about how our society, on many different levels, favors able-bodiness. We brought up examples from our personal experiences of how people tend to ignore individuals with disabilities, be uncomfortable with their community integration, or desexualized and/or treat them as children. For example, I used to work with this awesome guy who has Down Syndrome. One day, when we were hanging out and getting an Iced Tea from The Habit, a woman walked up to me and told me how nice it was that I "took him out for a walk" but couldn't believe I had "brought him to such a public place." My friend looked at the woman and said, "I wanted an iced tea." Not only did she refer to him as if he were an animal, but apparently didn't want him in a public area. After his response, we sat down and chit-chatted while the woman watched on in amazement.

My friend has a quadriplegic friend and they have heard comments from "why would anyone want to date a woman in a wheelchair?" when seeing her with her boyfriend, to men approaching them in bars saying "I'd be all over you if you weren't in that chair" - as if she wouldn't have a choice in the matter either way.

This conversation helped me realize why those statements had set something off inside of me. Although it's not the explicit intention behind people saying, "as long as the baby's healthy," this statement does assume a predominance of able-bodiness. What is this statement assuming? That if my baby is in the NICU when he/she is born, I will love him/her less? That if I don't count all ten fingers and all ten toes that he/she is less of a baby? These statements had irked me because they assume that if there was a physical "lack" with my baby when he was born then he was less of a baby, less of a person, which is very much NOT true.

Of course, I know that the well wishers behind these statements were mostly saying they hoped everything was okay with the baby, that the baby didn't have complications. But, what does this say about our societal preferences? Why is it "heart breaking" for people to see a child or adult with a disability? Is there a big difference between saying "As long as he has all his toes!" and "Let's hope he's not gay!"?

What this boils down to, yet again, is taking a look at how our language can be exclusive. Yes, I wanted Droidlet to be a healthy baby without complications, but why and how do we define the term "healthy?"

My Disneyland Hypocrisy

On a normal basis, I am very pro-small business. I actively try to attend the Farmer’s Market every Saturday morning to get fresh, local produce (and use public transport to get there – yay!). I stay as far away from Wal-Mart as possible. When the bank allows, I try to shop at all my favorite mom and pop stores. We love supporting local, independent breweries and I try my hardest not to waste (we recycle, use cloth diapers, that sort of good stuff). When we eventually have a yard, I want to grow my own veggies and practice composting. I always make jokes about “the man” and corporations, yet…

                I love Disneyland. LOVE Disneyland. Love as in the we-have-annual-passes-even-though-we-really-can’t-afford-it, any-time-we-come-to-Long-Beach-we-go, smooshy-ooey-gooey, unicorns and rainbows, kind of way. And Disney, well, it basically is the epitome of consumerism and waste.

                I don’t even like the whole “rescue me, oh prince, because I’m a helpless princess”story lines. Or the fact that all the princesses are unrealistically thin and have to be saved by a man in order to be happy. I mean, where are all the queer, genderfck princesses at?

                Yet, when I enter Main Street and hear the Disneyland band playing a tune and walk up the middle of the street to that big, pink castle, I’m filled with giddy happiness. I love the Buzz Lightyear ride and geek out on all the Star Wars merchandise. I spend way too much money on one ear of corn from Frontierland and love my ride through hell on Mr. Toad’s. The carousel is always a must and I am ever so excited for the opening of The Little Mermaid ride in the near future.

                But I know it’s all fake. And I know the Disney corporation both makes and spends copious amounts of money all so that people can indulge in these fantasies that usually reinforce heternormative, patriarchal society. You should have seen me go into a gender theory reading over the Tiki Room. I could write a whole blog post about the phallic symbol of that burst of water in the middle of the room, about how all the birds that actually talk and have names are male, and that the only female birds we see don’t have individual voices but sing, in unison, in over-feminized costumes and are beckoned from the ceiling by the main male bird. Yet, I still skip and dance right past the Tiki Room on my way to New Orleans.

                I guess it’s hard to always, no matter what, practice what you preach. I recognize the hypocrisy in my love for Disney but I also recognize how it is yet another example in my life about how everything is not just black and white. On one hand, Disney can be seen as evil reinforcement of societal norms and the constant need for more-more-more. On the other hand, Disney does donate to charities and brings happiness to lots of people. And maybe it’s good to get alternative culture into the middle of something so big and so mainstream to start changing it from the inside out (like the LGBTQ weekend at Disneyland every October. It’s not technically Disney sanctioned, but oh man, is it practiced). We’re obviously a long way off from seeing a gay princess and his prince but by people participating in the Disney culture in their own unique ways, we’ve begun our process of storming that pretty, pink castle.

A Queer Marriage

Same-sex marriage is a no brainer for me. Of course I agree with it. So, what the rhetoric of Proposition 8 did for me was make me question marriage’s purpose and why I decided to participate.

            “Back in the day” marriage was a construct to keep “bloodlines” clean and help with the perpetuation of the species (too much interbreeding equals the tribe or colony dying out). Through property rights, marriage created a “secure environment” for its participants. It was another social construct that maintained order. Marriage, in essence, maintained order. Then, sometime in the 1500’s, the proverbial “They” decided marriages needed to be attended by a priest and witnesses, making marriage “sin-saving” and blessed. At one point, love even got thrown into the mix.

            Now, it’s the 21^st century: where couples meet in virtual realities over the internet, where government has granted rights, from citizenship to tax deductions and inclusion of benefits, for married couples, and where love seems to have become a central aspect. Men and women both earn educations and paying jobs and can *gasp* own their own property! So, what really is the point of marriage anymore?

            Benefits, of course. But there seems to be a general frowning upon marriage for convenience. For the majority of the population, marriage takes on some sort of faith-based role, whether it is seen as a sacrament like in the Catholic church, or as the ideal state for a man and a woman in Jewish tradition, or practicing a ritual such as handfasting in pagan culture, many people view marriage as a part of their faith/spirituality. But what of us who do not view marriage as part of some sort of spiritual faith? Why do we do it?

            If you type into Google “reasons to get married” the top five reasons, across websites are:  1. Companionship, 2.  Romance, 3. Household support, 4. Family, and 5. Financial security.

            This is interesting. I have a life-long companion that I trust and love, who I know is faithful and will be. We even have a family, under one roof, together and although our finances aren’t legally tied, we share our incomes. And we aren't married.

There seems to be this misconception in our culture that if you don’t “put a ring on it” there is no security in the relationship. And, in certain cases, even when a ring is put on it, there are pre-nuptials, just in case. This says a lot about our society’s view of trust and its issues with monogamy (of course, I’m not taking into account polygamist/polyamorous/open relationship marriages -  how they subvert and redefine stereotypical notions of marriage is a post for another day). One website read, “Marriage provides security that part of the couple can’t just leave.” The divorce rate in the US defies this statement.

            There has also been a trend recently where people have decided not to get married until their same-sex couple friends can. Although this action has a great sentiment, and can help raise awareness, there are better actions to take. Rather than deny yourself a celebration of love and commitment (or whatever your reasons), why not take a percentage (or all) of your wedding present money and donate it to the FCKH8 campaign or Marriage Equality USA. Or, cut your $5,000 wedding budget to $1200 and donate that money. Gather donated weddings dresses and sell them at auction and donate the proceeds. The activist possibilities are endless and I feel that cancelling the wedding becomes something passive that does nothing to change the system.

            Really, what this comes down to, is questioning why marriage is seen as a goal and as something life-affirming in our society. I don’t think there is a wrong reason to get married, just that we, as a society, don’t tend to put conscious thought into why we get married (and I haven’t even touched on how over-industrialized the wedding industry is!).  Maybe it’s something as simple, like for Funk and I, as wanting to throw a celebration to share our love and commitment for one another with our community and maybe it’s something as complicated as spirituality and tradition. Whatever the reason, as with most values and actions in life, it’s important to know why. And should everyone be able to participate? Hell yes.

Bisexual Mamahood

My mom always had a box of old pictures in her closet (it’s probably still there) that, at random times, I would want to look at with her. Among Girl Scouts and family pictures, there were others: the boy she first held hands with in fifth grade, her first boyfriend, her first kiss, prom pictures, the guy she lost her virginity to, my dad. We’d go through the pictures and she’d tell me stories about each one (the stories getting more age-appropriate detail as I got older). I enjoyed these moments with my mom and told myself that as I grew up, I would save pictures to share with my future kids (if I decided to have any) so that they could have a little glimpse into me, outside of being “mama.”

                I now have one of those boxes but mine is a little different than my mom’s. There’s the boy I first held hands with, my first kiss boy from 7^th grade, my prom pictures, and then the first girl I kissed, my first girlfriend, my college boyfriend, the only woman I’ve said “I love you” to, and, of course, Funk.

                I remember sitting in my Queer Studies class at the beginning of my pregnancy, among a bunch of other LGBTQ (ahhh! An acronym! Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender, Queer) students and feeling like a traitor. No one in the room made me feel that way; it was my own insecurities and my own questions of what this pregnancy meant to my identity – an identity I had to convince my family and friends was not “just a phase” or “an experiment” or “a transition.” I’ve always believed that sexuality is a spectrum, that even those five letters used to describe the queer community aren’t enough, and that people fluidly move along the sexuality spectrum their whole lives. “Bisexual” seems to have fit me the best, I’ve had relationships with and am attracted to both males and females (and have been open to transgender and transsexual individuals, just no one ever fit). It just so happened that I was with a male partner, nature worked its magic, and Droidlet production commenced. Then, SLAM, the questions. Was I “copping out” into the comfort and safety of heterosexuality? How could I identify as bisexual while simultaneously reaping heterosexuality’s benefits? Was having a baby meaning I had to relinquish that huge part of myself that I have always considered queer?

                I’m still struggling with all of the answers. Being in a committed relationship with Funk doesn’t mean I’m no longer attracted to other people and the same goes for Funk. We happen to believe in monogamy, so those attractions stay just that. But just because I’m in a relationship with a male doesn’t mean I consider myself heterosexual; just like if, in the end, my partner had been a female, I wouldn’t consider myself a lesbian. And this is where identity based on sexual preference gets muddled. Just like I don’t define myself as only a mother, or only a student, or only a writer, I don’t identify myself only based on the sex of the people I am attracted to.

                What’s more important than my self-labeling is how I’m going to handle these questions from Droidlet as he gets older. When he asks me who the woman in that picture is, with her arm around mama, I’m not going to lie and say she was just a friend. Sexuality is such a complicated subject for an adult; I know there are going to be many, many questions from Droidlet as a child. If asked, I will be just as honest with him about how people of the same sex have intercourse as when he asks me how babies are made. What it comes down to, yet again, is that Droidlet knows there is a spectrum, that there are options,  that not every family has to be a Mommy, a Daddy, and a baby. Sometimes, it’s two daddies or two mommies, sometimes (like for his mama) it’s two sets of parents, sometimes it’s just one parent. Sometimes, a family is a community raising the children together. Luckily for Droidlet, he’s got a wonderful set of gay uncles, a bisexual mama, and an aunt with a heterosexual, nuclear family so he gets to see parts of the spectrum interacting and loving one another.