I have met the enemy and it’s us
I am thankful that I live in a city where I can walk down the street holding a woman’s hand and have no one confront me with prejudice. In Grand Isle, a town of 1500, we were met with similar tolerance. My mother said on the phone yesterday as I was hanging up – “love to you both” – she adores T. All of my friends from near and far greet my news with joy that I have found love and when they meet T, they are even more joyous that they now have her too in their lives.
And yet the first resistance I meet comes not from an outsider, a stranger, but from my own brother who sits in prison and writes to tell me of the immorality, the un-naturalness, the sheer wrong of my being with a woman. He knows I spoke to my niece about T and he also writes his daughter to warn her that she is young and impressionable and should be wary of what I say – she tells him she finds his comments highly offensive. Here is my brother, who I have loved dearly my whole life, despite the fact that he has fucked up not once, but twice, in a major way – and for that reason has spent the better part of his daughter’s life locked away – and yet, I have not begrudged him his weakness nor his motives for what he does – but still, this is the first bit of sand that has been kicked in my face for my choice and it does not go unnoticed that it has come from him, of all people.
My niece received a similar phone call today and called me to say she hoped his missives didn’t bother me, because it doesn’t bother her, and she is surprised that out of everyone she has encountered, intolerance came from her own rather than outside.
How sad for them, we both muse, and go on with our wonderful lives.