Who was very progressive . . . or so I thought. We sat in my kitchen chatting it up about Glee and all things wonderful. She'd seen clips of the show, I explained a bit about it, but that my kids could not actually watch the show, only the music numbers. And how my oldest daughter had totally picked up on the gay factor in the rendition of "Teenage Dream" by the Warblers. She'd wanted to know why those two boys were singing to each other. I'd passed it off by saying, "They're not. What makes you say that? It's just the camera showing one guy, then the other, and the one guy is never actually singing." Gah.
So the talk turned to homosexuality and had I talked to my daughter about it yet? Well, no. We don't have any friends who are gay, and she's just beginning to understand that girls like boys and boys like girls so I'm certainly not going to throw boys liking boys in there.
So then my Grandmother said how she was married before she knew what gay/homosexuality was. Then she realized that she'd grown up next to a couple that was. She talked about her cousins daughter who is gay and how she sees her girlfriend at the holidays, and how beautiful she is. Then Grandma said how they must be born this way, because who would chose a life so difficult? A life that so many people still disapprove of? A life where you are still hurt because of it? She went on and on about how awful it must be, and wouldn't it be nice if there were more places like San Francisco where they could all live safely and comfortably? Again, she said how they must be born this way. Grandma is 82. I was thinking, "Wow. She is really progressive. I'm not sure I feel this way."
Then the topic changed. She asked if my daughter had any friends that were black. I said " . . . yes." She asked, "Does she have any friends from . . . mixed marriages?" I began to grow puzzled. I replied, "Well, yes, I suppose she does. I mean, yes, now that I'm thinking of it . . . but why?" And she launched into a story about her friend, Phyllis, who's next door neighbor had a baby with a black man. And sometimes Phyllis sees that baby outside. And that baby is so dark. And sometimes that baby's daddy is over. And he is so dark.
So . . . let's review. Gay . . . OK. Black/African American . . . not.
After I picked my mouth up off the counter I leaned over and said, "I'm pretty sure the black guy and his baby? Born.that.way."
Just sayin'
Jane
