flds and teh gey
By diana on Nov 19, 2011 | In capricious bloviations
We're on a sleeper train from Izmir to Ankara. It's 1am. We have decided to go to the dining car. Michelle sits quietly while I peruse one of the Turkey travel guides we've purchased, then she says, “Being gay is like being FLDS.”*
* Fundamentalist Latter Day Saints.
ME: Wot.
No. Actually, I said, “...only you.” Then, “OK. How is it like being FLDS?”
MICH: Well, I've been reading about Caroline Jessup. I've read her second book. Remember? I was telling you about her?
ME: ...Remind me.
MICH: She is the only woman to have successfully escaped the FLDS with her children. Her daughter was about to be married to one of the Elders—or someone older and respected—at 13, so she decided it was time she left.
ME: Oh yeah. So...how is being gay like being FLDS?
MICH: Well, the FLDS doesn't trust anyone who isn't one of them. When Caroline escaped and was living in a trailer park with her children...the daughter kept dressing as FLDS. She still wanted to be married to the Elder, and Caroline had to fight her and get one of her sons to subdue her so they could even escape. The daughter was one of the cute, popular girls who was proud of the fact that she was going to marry the Elder. If you think about it, she was an 11-year-old in an adult world. She knew she'd be raped and have children, but that was just part of the deal. And it wasn't like she knew what “raped” even meant, anyway. All she knew was that she was one of the beautiful, the chosen, and she would marry the Elder, so she fought her mother the whole way when her mother decided to take her away from that life. She's the only one who went back.
ME: The daughter who was engaged to the Elder?
MICH: Right. And you know, Caroline didn't even have that much control over her own children before she left. The oldest sister-wife beat them. The oldest sister-wife has that kind of power. You know, when that compound was raided in Texas, many of those kids didn't even know who their mothers were? They knew their father—they were living in a home with one man and several women—but they didn't know who their mothers were. The oldest sister-wife....
ME: I find it mildly disturbing that you use that term with such ease.
MICH: ...The oldest wife...
ME: It's all right. It's just...you know so much about this culture that you take for granted that they have “sister-wives.” That's a bit strange.
MICH (long pause, then, eyelids lowered): ...the oldest sister-wife...has ultimate control.
ME: Kinda like the Joy Luck Club?
MICH: Right. Anyway, when Caroline escaped, she moved into a trailer park with her kids where that daughter did what she could to not fit in, like, she kept dressing like she was FLDS. Caroline had a friend who practically begged her to confide in her, but Caroline didn't tell her anything for years because...when you're on the inside of a plural marriage, you don't tell people who aren't in the club. You just don't. She trusted the woman enough to let her help with the kids—pick them up from school, say—but she just couldn't bring herself to tell her the whole story. It wasn't until the woman had moved to a retirement home that she came clean: “I'm a fourth wife in an FLDS polygamous marriage and these are his kids....” Seriously, she'd just rather let people think that she was a trailer park slut with eight children than to tell the truth.
ME: OK. Stop. Back up. So...how is being gay like being FLDS?
MICH: Well, you get so used to keeping your life secret. You don't think about it after a while. You lie because it's nobody's business, then after a while, you just lie to maintain the lie. Even when the people you're lying to know it's a lie, you stick to the story until they leave you alone. But your life at home...no one knows what it's like. They have no idea what happens in your home, how you live.
ME: Are you suggesting I perhaps shouldn't introduce you as my partner?
MICH: No. But.... It's like you invite people into your bedroom when you introduce me like that.
ME: Possibly, but that isn't my problem. I mean, when a man introduces his wife to me as his wife, I don't get a flash of them in their bedroom. That isn't what it's about. It's about him introducing the person he has chosen to spend his life with, and him being proud of that choice. Why do we assume people come into our bedroom when we introduce ourselves similarly? To me, if I introduce you as my friend—now that I no longer have my career on the line—I am demonstrating some level of shame.
MICH: But it isn't the same. There are some things you just don't say. I've read on Craig's List where people were asking for a third person to enter their marriage....
ME: Are you sure they weren't just asking for a fling?
MICH: Trust me. They make it pretty clear that they're looking for someone to move in permanently.
ME: Ah.
MICH: ...which is a perfectly viable lifestyle, but it isn't something you say to people.
ME: I understand, but the coin has a flip side. We're talking about cultural norms here, and those norms are determined by what people believe is normal. We change expectations only when we treat our situation as just as normal, and let other people see how normal we are. Does it bother you that I introduce you as my partner?
MICH: No. I was just thinking about how much we have in common with the FLDS.
d
15 comments
Diana,
Michelle has a point, although a lot of other people have aspects they don’t talk about because they don’t want to deal with the response, whether it’s curiosity, disdain, revulsion, or violence. Some days we just don’t want to talk about it. And some days we can’t. I’m glad you’re not in that position any more.
But other times we do want to talk about it, as you pointed out. To be accepted as not different. That takes some cooperation from the people around us to not react like we’re different. I like your approach using the term partner; it’s honest but it doesn’t invite comment from polite company.
I wish I could say that presenting yourselves as partners won’t cause some people to speculate about your private lives, but it will happen. If it’s any consolation, that happens to hetero couples too. Every time you hear someone talk about what a lucky guy Jack is to be married to Jill, they’re not talking about her ability to balance a checkbook.
Dave
Well, I’ve tried twice to send a private message, asking about the spelling on the second word of the FLDS. Did you do that on purpose, or just for fun?
Otherwise, your writing is, as usual, informative and interesting. Keep it up!
Thanks for the catch, Aunt Bann. :) It was, in fact, a goof. I do that with shudder/shutter, too, from time to time.
d
Interesting point, Dave.
“Jack’s a lucky man” comments aren’t necessarily sexual, though. I know I make comments to this effect about men and women and their partners, and what I mean when I say it is that the partner seems mature and intelligent and interesting and funny, etc. IOWs, a good choice for a partner. I’m not referring to someone’s ability to balance a checkbook, of course, but I’m not interested in them sexually, either.
Even if the comment implies an interest in sexuality–as it no doubt must in some circumstances–there is still a marked difference: when people say Jack’s a lucky man, they more than likely aren’t visualizing Jack with Jill so much as just Jill (and possibly themselves).
Maybe people aren’t sexualizing my relationship, either, but I think it happens–a lot. I have a couple of reasons for believing this is the case. First, it is a common assumption that homosexuality is about sexuality. It is, but not JUST, any more than heterosexuality is JUST about sexuality. But our culture (to paint with a very broad brush) will see heterosexuality as just part of a powerful emotional bond but dismiss homosexuality as a mere sexual interest.
The second reason is this: some people are distinctly uncomfortable when I introduce Mich as my partner, and I can’t think of a good explanation of that discomfort, other than the ick factor. Maybe they just don’t know what the proper response is (as though “It’s nice to meet you” isn’t appropriate or something). Dunno.
d
Diana,
I’m extrapolating wildly here, but I wonder if people are uncomfortable when you present Mich as your partner because either 1) they realize they’re meeting someone they’ve been taught to think of as different, exposing their own latent bigotry to themselves, or 2) for a moment they picture themselves in your or Mich’s position, and it’s a bit of a shock. (Possibly “ick,” but not necessarily.)
Widows and widowers encounter the latter sometimes. We generally don’t mention our status to someone we’ve just met for that reason. A lot of people are uncomfortable thinking about what they’d do if they lost their partner, but they can’t help doing just that when they meet someone else who has. So most of us don’t talk about it unless there’s a need or we’ve gotten to know the person better.
The former I’ve had happen to me personally. When we lived in Columbus we had a black family for neighbors for a time. Wonderful people, very friendly, and every time I talked to them I could hear my mom’s voice in the back of my head talking about “them people.” For a while I was actually afraid I’d say something insulting without realizing it. I got over it when the lady of the family laughingly told my wife that we all look the same to them.
You’re right about the “lucky” remarks. (Don’t you ever get tired of being right? (grin)) It’s not always about sexual desirability. But to me it seems to imply that the other partner isn’t so lucky, that they could do better. Otherwise the couple would be described as a good match.
Dave
Well, Hinermad, I am one person who thinks that Diana and Mich are DEFINITELY NOT JUST a “good match” for each other. I think they are a WONDERFUL match for each other!!!
Ms. Bann: I guess that means they’re both lucky then!
Diana,
Coincidence? This cartoon just went up today:
http://www.smbc-comics.com/index.php?db=comics&id=2441#comic
I wonder if the cartoonist reads your blog.
Dave
I dunno about others, but when I hear the word “partner", my brain doesn’t trip to “domestic", it trips to “business". I wonder if some of the awkward pauses are people wondering why you’re introducing them to your business partner, flashing to “should I ask them what business?", and then - maybe - realizing you meant “domestic” - and then trying to mentally readjust the frame.
Or maybe I’m just proving my own backwardness. Has “partner” become a widespread, casual term for domestic arrangements, such that others think of that before business?
Cute cartoon, Dave. :)
Bree, perhaps that is sometimes the source of the discomfort, but not always. In some cases, the person in question is aware of my domestic arrangement in advance, but the discomfort is still palpable.
“Partner” is a term we picked up several years ago when we went to Wales for a friend’s wedding. Apparently, the term is ubiquitous in the UK; even Phil’s father–a picture-perfect grandpa type if ever I saw one–introduced Phil’s mother to us as his “partner.” Phil’s and Leigh’s relatives (Welsh and Irish respectively) also used the term more than not. It seems to be catching on in the States, but slower.
I particularly like it because it implies a balance of power, an agreement to share responsibilities, without the cultural baggage that comes with “spouse” or “wife” or “husband.” It denotes a mature relationship, and a committed one, in a respectful way. At least, this is what it denotes to me.
d
I think you are right, Diana. And I think that it is high time that ANY marriage/partnership/etc. comes with EQUALITY in ALL things! I’ve been married twice, and in both marriages, there has not been equality—-I, as the female, am expected to do all household jobs, and also help out in the outdoor jobs, too! That, to me, is NOT right! But I love your Uncle Charles enough to stay with him, even with that unequal “balance"! (Next time, I think I’ll just stay single!) lol
Next time? Let’s hope there isn’t one. :)
If it helps any, Aunt Bann, a balance of power doesn’t mean a balance of chores, in my experience. Chore division depends entirely upon the dynamic of the relationship. In our case, most of the outside chores are mine. Laundry and dishes and if she can convince me, cleaning the litterboxes tend to be mine, as well. But Mich does the stuff I don’t like and sometimes don’t even notice. She cleans the bathrooms and floors (ew) and stays on top of the budget and waters plants and cleans the fireplace and…all sorts of stuff I don’t notice needs done. Of course, she does almost all of it while I’m in Izmir–in some cases, to be completely fair, more than I’d do if I were there.*
* Our lawn, if I may be so bold as to call it such, needn’t be mowed at all, or regularly, and I sometimes choose (lazily) to let it just grow. She mows it more frequently than I do.
Anyway…my point is that household task division isn’t a heterosexual/homosexual or even a generational thing (although that influences it), but a relationship thing.
But it would be SO COOL if we could just point to a rule book and say, “Marriage Manual Volume 5, chapter 6 says YOU have to clean the dog yak off the carpet.” Unless the rule book were being used against us, of course.
d
But it would be SO COOL if we could just point to a rule book and say, “Marriage Manual Volume 5, chapter 6 says YOU have to clean the dog yak off the carpet.”
Isn’t that how the FLDS does it? I’ve heard mixed reviews on how well that works. (grin)
The people in a relationship need to write their own manual. It’s the “um, we never thought of that” situations that make constant revision necessary. You get a LOT of those when you have kids.
Dave
I’ll just have to take your word on that one, Dave. ;)
d
Diana, thinking about the Ladder/Latter thing, I have a solution, if you can remember it. Ladder is something you step up on; Latter is something that is the last of whatever. As for the FLDS, it means the last choice for getting into heaven, as I understand it. (And no, I don’t intend to join them, just so you will know!)
« rambling for the sake of rambling | selçuk and almost ephesus » |