Thoughts of a Rural Lesbian
I just feel that a small town holds you into being what they think you should. And even if you are, say a lesbian, anyway despite the gossip and the negative glances. You still may not dress how you REALLY want or have your hair as radical as you may like. A life of mediocrity, I guess you would call it. Where your dreams are in your head, your passion is secretly kept to your bed, and well, your appearance is status quo with no real direction.
Breaking Out of this MOLD, no matter how unfulfilling it may be, is for most simply an impossible and unbearable feat.
It simply is harder than it sounds, for me to Really carry ME beyond my room and out into their version of me. I can go among them, I can take the constant disapproval, with this I can stay positive, however, I find it almost impossible to radically be me on all levels I know myself to be, when just walking into a room, still in this day and age, makes the rooms mindless – idle chatter come to a halt.
And why, I ask, what is such a big deal that the local drunk – the town slut – the adulterine businessmen, the bank teller, and all the townies with secret lives must quit eating their breakfast in a crowded café and look at me and my partner with a quietness and a stillness that really is unmatched. Once, a waitress took such incredible note of the obvious reaction that she, herself apologized.
I am kind of tired of hiding parts of me, though I am OUT, without a doubt. Not even a mouse, does not know I am a lesbian in my small town. However, is that enough? If I cannot be me, the writer in me cannot burst forth, my healing abilities are closeted, and I wear my hair in a way they will understand. Even though that is impossible
All because being a lesbian, well that’s about all they can take for now, as a community and being a lesbian is a very small part of who I am.
I want to be a Good Strong Lesbian, and empower lesbians everywhere. I want to walk through their version of me and walk my path, unafraid of their eyes and their blather. I want you to be proud of you, and if I stand tall than, somehow it is winning one or taking one for the team, per say.
If I can take the chatter, the stares, the negativity shot from the eyes of sinners, and the constant inner disapproval that I can feel – even if I ignore – than maybe I am making the world a better place for all lesbians.
Lately, I wonder if me simply walking a half baked version of my truth to gain approval of some sort from those who are not even looking, is enough for me to call a life?
What if I did not live here, what if their eyes could not see me and I got them all out of my head? What if their disapproval was not even noticed and I laughed everyday, somewhere else without caring what they thought of me? Could I really do that? Could I really get them all out of my head, off of my bed, and out of my sight?
Though I know that no matter where I am, someone will have some kind of problem with what I may say or do, how I walk or dress, or who I seem to be. And someone will sling the negativity mud ball.
However, there is NOTHING quite like the ties that are wrapped around you in a small town where everybody thinks that they had some part in raising you and expect you to be a product of society that they can relate to, however impossible that may be, and somehow be proud of, even if they never tell you.
The ties are so tightly wound, that even when you move away, the town, the glances, the disapproval tries to live on in your head.
One wonders what would happen if I truly did give up their version of me and truly did walk into the person I think of as me when I look into the mirror in my mind.
My guess is in that place of mind, that place where they don’t have a clue what I do with my days or my nights, that I would than be my perfect weight, my heart would not be heavy on a daily basis for reasons I cannot quite make out, I would not be nervous at who I might see and what asinine thing they may say.
I don’t want to seem weak, I am not weak. And I do enjoy seeing the faces I have known for years. I mostly enjoy spreading cheer, and light and letting people know how great they are and who they can be. I like seeing some of the people I have known my whole life, however, it does not out weigh the binds I place on myself to live in a daily “sameness” forever awaiting an event that never happens.
Though I convinced myself it was the mountains I loved, the drama of humans has kept me off the trails and away from the high country lakes that I love so. And in this I ask is living in the mountains, enough to truly experience them in the way I see myself interacting in my minds eye?
I feel I live a life separate from myself. I have different blog accounts for my different levels of acceptance and almost to 2008 now and still being really OUT, seems impossible.
What if I let myself physical live in the mystical magical place in my mind and find that cabin that soothes my soul, spend my mornings with my lover in non-assuming embrace, and went for a kayak ride before the morning coffee looking into her eyes know that WE DID IT, we walked right through the fire they lit, and we walked right out of the mold they laid for us, and we truly became an us without anybodies version of who we should be left to keep us from truly experiencing joy and bliss.
And than in the afternoon, while walking under the large aromatic trees we would feel laughter, we would walk without burden and we would let go – truly let go – of what anyone ever needed us to be to make their life more comfortable. You and I, my lover, would laugh all day, a deep hardy laughing knowing that we Truly did Break the Mold.
