In any case...he's back!
I am a professor.
Really? Can you make a radio out of coconuts and bamboo? I didn't think so...
Among the many farces of academia, hiring season is exceptional.
Okay, sure, somehow you were hired to teach at the college level, but don't you agree that's really more tragedy than farce?
Everyone in the department pretends that we are completely collegial and endearing, while job candidates arrive and audition for us. We go out to lunch with the aspirants and small talk ensues.And that's when the Olive Garden turns into the Garden of Gethsemane! Except instead of Judas kissing Jesus, your department head hogs the breadsticks!
This time around, many of my colleagues courted the candidates by musing about their childhoods over dinner. Colleague X talked about how he was the first one to attend college because his father only finished up to tenth grade. Colleague Y recounted arguments about classic books with her parents who were both English teachers. Colleague Z reminisced about the days when her father, a preacher, prepared for his weekly sermons.
And then there’s me sitting there. I’d love to say: “I was raised by a lesbian who took me to a motor home on the weekends so she and her lover could hike and build wooden decks together.So it was like growing up with slightly more butch versions of Bob Vila and Norm Abrams?
When I worked in my mother’s clinic doing typing and filing, I transcribed the files of her mentally ill patients, some of whom were gay or transgender, so I knew everything about sex a kid could possibly imagine by the time I was fourteen.Yeah, I don't want to get into a pissing match about who had the more picaresque upbringing, Prof, since compared to a lot of people I got off light; but given that my mother was mentally ill and began threatening to murder me in my sleep when I was five years old (Insomnia 4 Life, yo), I'd totally be willing to trade my night terrors for your light typing and filing.
By the time I was sixteen, I was getting in lots of trouble.Well I would hope so, given all that free sex ed you were getting. Hell, if I'd had your advantages as a teenager I'd have been working my way through the Kama Sutra and the Collected Works of Henry Miller like somebody following one of those IKEA chifforobe-assembling diagrams.
By the way, because this was my life and I refuse to lie about the problems it caused me, I have been dubbed an anti-gay bigot by all the major gay advocacy organizations and the other people at this table have banned me from the department listserv and newsletter.Yeah, cry me a river and pass the Five Cheese Dipping Sauce.
“But please, go ahead, tell me how you grew up.”Nervously, with a chair wedged against my bedroom door at night. But I thank my lucky stars that at least I was never subjected to non-consensual clerical work!
For all the talk about fighting privilege, “speaking out” and “breaking silences” are actually not what the left wants children of gay couples to do.They want them to do The Macarena. No one's quite sure why.
Everything about my life is dangerous to discussCross the wrong people, and the forces of Big Lesbian might just push you off the top of a high dental dam.
because if I tell the truth about where I came from, I can be accused of homophobia (which has happened) and fired (which has come near to happening).Not near enough, apparently.
I wish they -- the pro-gay liberals -- would make up their minds.You're right. Let's quite hemming and hawing and just order the Pasta e Fagioli, we gotta be back at work by one-thirty.
Either be radical and anti-establishmentarian, and accept uncomfortable voices into the conversation -- or else shut up and let me talk about Homer’s Iliad. Which I’ve read in Greek.I don't know which Greek you were in, but he was pretty patient to let you stay in there for the length of an entire book. (Was it Spiros? He's pretty chill...)
Children of gays, or COGs, are ready for a turning point.Specifically, The Turning Point, the 1977 film about bickering middle aged ballet divas, although admittedly that's probably more popular with the COGs' parents.
The gay community raised us, sometimes with love, and often with a bit of inconsiderate self-interest.So, like every parent, everywhere?
Too many of us were asked to keep secret how hard the whole experience was. Many times siblings turned against each other based on which brother or sister “broke ranks” and decided to speak the truth while others played along to keep Mom and Mom or Dad and Dad happy.In other words, you're saying that sometimes the children of gay parents experience sibling rivalry, and compete for parental approval? That is shocking, in that I never knew the Smothers Brothers were raised by lesbians.
Actually, I guess should read, "Moms always liked you best!"
After decades of decrying the pain of “the closet,” the gay community remains largely unwilling to uncover the true feelings of the children raised in their midst.I assume they simply wanted to spare us, since we've all heard children kick and scream and whine and fuss and write columns for American Thinker.
Don’t think we are only disappointed with liberals. We find ourselves wondering what happened to conservatives opposed to same-sex marriage. The anti-gay-marriage activists gave us much less attention than they gave to the cake-bakers, florists, and innkeepers who were Christian and who didn’t want to service gay weddings.I don't know if you can catch syphilis from an attention whore, but I think I'll go put on a condom just to be safe...
Aside from canned platitudes extorted from kids still under gay adults’ custody, the terms of the same-sex parenting debate were always dehumanizing statistics. “Who had better outcomes?” “Who has a lower percentage of autism?” “Who has greater attachment security anxiety?”"Who has the highest incidence of Adult Onset Self-Pity Parties?" "Who has the crappiest argument?" "Who's the biggest drama queen?"
Until now. The dissident COGs who refuse to follow either side’s party line are growing in number. We will not be left out of this marriage showdown about to go before the Supreme Court."We've already filed an amicus tantrum."
This time around Anthony Kennedy will not be able to assume he knows what we are thinking, and the Human Rights Campaign will not be able to tell us what we are supposed to want. We won’t let people use us anymore. Keep your eyes out for our briefs against gay marriage. Even if we can’t change history, at least we want to be part of it. Our time has come. We deserve it.And I think I speak for all of us when I say: here's hoping you get exactly what you deserve.