Friday, March 26, 2010
Rejection . . .
I believe them.
In some sense, I really am hoping that this wedding season that my partner and I are in right now will pass quickly. Don't get me wrong, there is a significant extent to which I want to savor every moment of this process. But then, there are all of the "conscientious objectors" who won't come to our wedding (mostly for religious reasons), and it stings just a little bit more every time we get another one of those letters.
Life was so much easier when everyone thought J and I were just fucking around (and to be honest, I'm sure some of them thought we were out fucking a lot of other guys too - they could not be more wrong, in either accusation). But ever since we've actually made plans to enter into healthy, sanctifying, committed partnership together, many people have suddenly found a need to place their proverbial stakes in the ground. It's their right to do so, obviously. God bless 'em. Most of them can even acknowledge that doing so pains them, and knows that it will pain us. However, most of them have not an inkling what it *actually* feels like to have their love invalidated in such a way. They have no idea how much it hurts to be told by the people they love that they won't attend THE seminal event of their lives :(
People keep saying to me "well, you have to understand how they feel", and frankly, I DO understand how they feel. I was faced with a similar, tough situation when a good friend of mine from college (a girl who attended the Bible study I led, no less) decided to marry a Muslim man. My deliberation was quick, but difficult. I decided my love for her was worth putting my squeamishness aside for an evening, so that I could remain a part of her life. After all, how do you expect someone to trust you to be a part of their life, if you refuse to be a part of their love? It is precisely the sort of decision I figured Jesus would make in the same situation. I think Christians have an infinitesimally small understanding of exactly how scandalous it was for a rabbi to be eating with the likes of tax collectors and harlots! Communion and sharing with someone - even a sinning someone - is not necessarily condoning everything they do. But it is affirming their value and worth as human beings with human hearts and human ways.
My parents are coming to our ceremony. I am in no way deluded into thinking that this somehow means they agree with our sexuality being God-ordained. I understand their attendance to be the sign that they want to continue to be a part of our lives. God forbid if they did not come, and something were to happen to J. Do you think I would actually ever feel as though I could trust them anymore? With my hurt, my loss, my heart, my feelings? No, I couldn't. They made their decision. Not being a part of our love means not being a part of my life. That's how I feel about the matter, simply put.
And so, I want the days of ignorance back. I want to go back to the days when everyone pretended to love me perfectly well when they thought we were just fucking, and getting this out of our systems. I want to get beyond the wedding, so that people can revert to the simple life.
Can you tell that this past week has been hard for me? :)
I guess I'm just feeling the weight of being rejected so thoroughly by J's family. Of course, things could be a lot worse. As it is, they smile in my face, and secretly pray that I go away, while ignoring me whenever they can . . . I guess it's easier that way. Maybe I'd do the same in their position. But they *could* just be rude, evil, vindictive, and spiteful to me to my face. And that would probably feel worse than this. But this feels pretty shitty all the same . . .