"Who will love me as I am?" I suspect that everyone has asked themselves that question at some time. Few of us can ever be certain of what others think about us. We all hope to find at least one person of whose love we can be certain.
Some people begin this quest with the deck stacked against them. It's hard enough to find that certain someone if everyone is poised to cheer you when you succeed. If you know people are going to throw rocks at you, it kind of puts a damper on things.
This is pride month, as it is called by GLBT folks. That's groovy. I've marched in a few pride parades, chanting slogans such as, "We're here, we're queer, get used to it!" More recently, though, the slogans, if any, have changed to something like, "It's not our fault, we're just like you, let us join your club." And I don't march any more.
I hear there are now television shows with gay ('G') and lesbian ('L') people in them (I don't watch television). I hear the lesbian and gay people in those shows look just like 'normal' folks.
As always, there are no bisexual ('B') people. When there are transgender ('T') people, they are stereotypes or caricatures who usually end up dead. That's more true to life than I want to think about.
Intersexed ('I') folks don't exist on television or in polite conversation, though I bet you know several (who aren't telling).
There are more ways of being different than there are letters in the alphabet. But we don't talk about our differences. We stand around the water cooler and work on convincing everyone, and ourselves, that we're all the same.
If you've made it as far as the water cooler, I suppose that makes sense, in the selfish near-sighted short term. You're one of the lucky people, who can pass for normal. (Or are you one of the damned, living in hell?)
The essence of the human condition is that we can never know for certain what anyone else is thinking. All we can know is our shared experience, the story we write together that we call culture and society.
If you don't like that story, speak up. If you have yet to be in it, speak up. Silence is death.
What if we're all weird inside? What if our shared experience is a sham? If everyone lies, how can we know?
"Who will love you as you are?" First, they have to know who and what you are.
(This essay was inspired by the song from the 1997 musical, Side Show, "Who Will Love Me as I Am?")
Those are my thoughts, here in East Lansing, June 2004.