The other day, I talked some about polyamory. I honestly forget sometimes that things like that might surprise some people, or make them uncomfortable. I know that a couple of my readers were uncomfortable with that post, and based on my blog stats, I'm guessing I lost some readers (though that could be a coincidence). I was like, "Oh, yeah, right."
I am lucky to have a diverse group of friends, including, through homeschooling and elsewhere, committed Christians of various stripes. It should be no surprise that there are things we don't share easily with each other. I do forget sometimes that when I write on my blog, I am writing both to some faceless audience of people I haven't met, and also to specific friends and loved ones, and that some posts may be very welcome to some friends, and uncomfortable for others.
I've actually been thinking about this kind of a lot since I posted about polyamory. Right now, my own sexuality and sexual history are things I'm interested in, and if I'm interested in something, I usually write about it, to someone, in some venue. Right now, this blog is my venue most of the time.
I write about a lot of things on my blog. Even before my renewed interest in reflection on sexuality and polyamory, I wondered if my blog was too scattered. I write about adoption; parenting; anxiety; race and class; books; Quakerism and faith; my life; people I love. Perhaps I should have several blogs--one about adoption, one about books, one about Quakerism, one for profiles of my beloveds, one about parenting...
The problem is that I don't have enough to say about any one of those things to sustain a blog. Long-time readers may recall that this blog started as a place to think about transracial adoption. Eventually, though, I found that I had said most of what I have to say on that topic, and the blog was quiet for awhile until I started using it as The Blog of All Things. I seem to be a Blog of All Things kind of person, because I don't have one thing I'm interested in. I'm deeply interested in transracial adoption for awhile; then I'm reading up on economics and globalization; then I'm reading a whole bunch of classic sci-fi, or re-watching Firefly. Lately I've been studying up on homebirth and midwifery, because I realized I didn't have an informed opinion on those things, and I was curious. Sometimes I'm interested in several things at once: right now, I'm very interested in reading and talking about gifted kids; kittens; amigurumi; common birds of Michigan; young adult fiction; marriage; flirting; service; homeschooling; gender-nonconforming kids; and religion. Off the top of my head. And that might mean a blog post on one of those things one day, and on another the next day. Or one post that touches on a couple of those things.
They're not neatly compartmentalized for me. Parenting, gender-nonconformance, anxiety, religion, and kittens, for instance, have some obvious connections in my life right now. I can't see it working for me to have a blog that was supposed to be only about one of those things.
Something I thought about yesterday, during my middle-of-the-night drive home from Ann Arbor, was whether, if I want to write about polyamory and sexuality, I should have a special space for that. A separate blog, or a section of this blog that people could choose to go to, or not. But part of what I'm thinking about is my desire to be wholly known, by which I mean to be in places and with people where I can bring my whole self. One of the things I love about FLGBTQC is that it comes so close to that for me--I've said many times, and here I am saying it again, FLGBTQC is the place in my life where people can best honor and hold both my relationship with Raider and my queer identity. I like that. I want and need more places like that in my life.
As Ragen Chastain says, I am the boss of my underpants. I am also the boss of my blog. And I need and want this to be a place where I can write honestly about what matters to me.
It's not my wish to make anyone uncomfortable; it is, indeed, my regret if I do. But at the same time, it's OK with me if people are uncomfortable. It's OK if some people only read my posts on books, or my posts on parenting. It's OK if some people decide not to read my blog at all. Even people I love. Even people who are my friends and want to stay my friends. It's OK, if you're uncomfortable, to say so. I welcome both "I" statements and Good-Faith Questions on any topic. Tell me what you think and feel; that's fine with me. Ask me more; that's fine with me. Choose to spend your time elsewhere; I'm sorry to see you go, but that's fine with me, too, and when I see you at park day or in the grocery store or at a friend's house, I'll still be glad to see you and I hope you'll be glad to see me.
I am a moral person. I am a deeply ethical person. I am religious in a non-trivial way. I think and ponder and reflect and think some more about everything. The decisions I make about my life are shaped by these things. I don't think I've ever made a decision lightly. So, you know, at least, that if I make a decision that seems dangerous, reckless, immoral, wrong-headed, deeply mistaken, risky, or even just head-scratchingly incomprehensible to you, well, it's probably the best-thought-out, most-thoroughly-processed bone-headed move in history. Perhaps that is a consolation.
I might write some more about sexuality and polyamory sometime soon; I have a couple of things percolating in the Grab-Bag. But I won't write explicity about sex here. Just so you know.
In other news, my notebook went missing yesterday just after I wrote about it. It went missing in circumstances that make me hope it will yet turn up--I remember putting it, and my shopping list, into my bag, but when the Tiny Tornado and I got to the store, I opened my bag and they weren't there. Somewhere in the house, we think. Or maybe the car.
I hope it turns up. This is not just a notebook; it's the notebook my friend Janis gave me a pen quiver for. I love perfect, unexpected gifts (like the time my friend Weaver mailed me a fancy tape-flag dispenser! Clearly office supplies are a theme) and I treasure my pen quiver.
In the meantime, Raider gave me a little notebook he picked up at a conference in May, small enough to carry in my bag. And I have a beautiful journal my friend Uncle Toots bought for me at Walden Pond, really too nice for the kind of disposable note-taking I do. And I remind myself that my brain is always generating more thoughts and ideas than I know what to do with, so anything that stays lost is probably not that important; meanwhile, worthwhile things (and some that aren't) find their way to the surface again. I'm already on the second page of notes in the lovely journal.
And so on.
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7 comments:
No, please don't have a separate blog/separate blogs. For selfish reasons, I like having all of this in one space. But also, this is your space, and shouldn't there be space that is yours for your whole self, not compartmentalized? Not just in FLGBTQC?
And those are some of the very same reasons I treasure the FLGBTQC community myself: I can be whole there, and am known, and am loved.
So, you know, at least, that if I make a decision that seems dangerous, reckless, immoral, wrong-headed, deeply mistaken, risky, or even just head-scratchingly incomprehensible to you, well, it's probably the best-thought-out, most-thoroughly-processed bone-headed move in history. Perhaps that is a consolation.
Best sentence ever. This is pretty true of me too. I like that you rattle my comfort zone from time to time. It's good for me. I don't always come away thinking differently (though sometimes I do,) but I always come away with deeper understanding. Glad to call you a friend, Friend.
I don't usually comment on your blogs, but there is word that came to me while I was reading today's entry. Yum.
-Amy
I love having all the different topics in one blog. It makes you seem like a real person, since you're not someone I know in real life. I just like your writing.
I've spent some time over the last year or so reflecting on the way that most of us are jumbles of unexpected combinations of interests, skills, and experiences. Certainly that's true of the most interesting people I know. A lot of us compartmentalize - we don't talk about our faith at work, or about our sci-fi obsessions with our running buddies, etc. Seeing the jumble of different pieces that make up the person you are helps me remember that I'm not the only one who fits into many different communities at once.
Love this, love the comments, love you. I especially love the bit about how you think and ponder and reflect about everything. As a lesbian Christian, I often meet people who think I'm wrong. I don't fit into their life boxes, even though I'm standing in front of them. Does it not occur to them that I haven't made these decisions lightly, that I have prayed and thought and researched and concluded that I am living my life the way God intended it, for me? It doesn't have to work for you. But shame on you for not trusting that I am as faithful as you. Sometimes you stretch my boundaries. But I trust you, and I love that you help me shift paradigms and see things differently.
Yes, please, keep everything together! I want to read about everything you think about enough to want to write about it. (And now I should go to bed. That was an awful sentence. :) ) Love you!
You are complicated. And so is your blog. I like that. Plus you are so wonderfully witty, which I appreciate on so many levels. Carla
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