Comments on: Ah me, My Father (A Continuing Series)

By: Antigone

Antigone — Sat, 07 Jun 2008 00:10:37 +0000

Hell, I haven’t even TOLD my mother that I’m bisexual.

By: Lisa Kansas

Lisa Kansas — Fri, 06 Jun 2008 20:51:04 +0000

I think my mom was always disappointed that I wasn’t bisexual.

By: Thene

Thene — Fri, 06 Jun 2008 20:22:46 +0000

Ouch.

I love the ‘not any more’ thing. It doesn’t require that they ever admit that it was happening. Just deny, deny, deny, then finally say ‘Well we USED to be sexists, but not NOW. Women are just WHINING now. Not like those feminists back in the day!’ If they’re really brave, they can squeeze in an extra between the two stages: saying it sorta might be real but there’s nothing that could be done to change it, not possible.

I am one of the weird people that the conservatives cackling about how they are outbreeding the liberals always seem to forget about: both of my parents are conservative.

Ditto-ish. My father is about 90% pure wingnut. My mother was a devout Christian, but was relatively left-wing when it came to things that weren’t religious hot topics. That bothers me because when morons tell me she ‘would’ve been proud of me’, I (in my head) go ‘Um. Gay’. I wonder if she’d've changed her mind about anything if she’d know she had a bisexual child. I can’t know.

By: Lisa KS

Lisa KS — Fri, 06 Jun 2008 17:23:14 +0000

I think you should do whatever moves you at the moment…ain’t that the joy and beauty of blogging?

By: Ginger

Ginger — Fri, 06 Jun 2008 17:10:15 +0000

About your dad…I think the reason that some men don’t want to recognize descrimination and sexism is because they’d then have to acknowledge that they’ve done and said sexist things. Pointing out descrimination is like holding a mirror up to sexists, and they don’t like it.

By: Quin

Quin — Fri, 06 Jun 2008 11:54:06 +0000

If people want me to do more serious pieces, or at least less personally-oriented ones, please say so.

Nah, abstractions get boring pretty fast. True stories are always interesting. Then again, blogging minutiae of your day gets boring pretty fast, too. I’m not sure where the dividing line is. But don’t worry, wherever it is, you don’t seem in danger of crossing it.

By: Antigone

Antigone — Fri, 06 Jun 2008 04:38:44 +0000

That reminds me of something that happened to me. We were short of umpires, so the slightly older boys in the neighborhood empired. Also, because there was not enough protection, the umpire’s stood behind the pitcher, not the catcher. One of the older guys, who didn’t like me in the first place, told the pitcher to bean me, which the pitcher did, and then he called it a strike.

I accidently let go of the bat on the next swing. I didn’t get beaned again.

By: murphy

murphy — Fri, 06 Jun 2008 03:45:36 +0000

I totally get everything you say here. I was the first girl to make my neighborhood’s all-star little league team back in the day. I batted something over .500 for the season. I was pretty tight. And I’ll never forget suiting up to play the older boys’ team before we went off to the state tourney. I got up to bat four times and was hit by four pitches. The pitchers didn’t hit a single other batter that day. They just wouldn’t pitch to me. They were scared of a girl getting a hit off them and they wanted to show me my place. Funny enough, nobody seemed to care that a girl was getting pummeled in that instance, but would use it as a reason I couldn’t graduate to pony league the next year.