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“I live in Spartanburg South Carolina which I'm sure you've never heard of. It's a cultural wasteland. Don't ever come here. I promise you won't miss out on anything. Unless its getting to see the new Marriott that just got foreclosed on. Oh, and the new chicken wings restaurant. (We're about 15 years behind the times in the restaurant department.) People are just now feeling comfortable asking for a latte (although the southern drawl and occasional hereditary nuisance requires a momentary pause for concentration between syllables; hence, laaaah--tay.) I ask for a macchiato and women may cover their children's' ears.
And at least one of you, it appears, is just plain drunk…
“… *blink* … *blink blink* … [inhale as if to speak] … *blink* … [exhale] … o_O … Hold on a second. I have to go find something to hit … [BANG!] … WHAT THE F***ING HELL WAS THAT!?!”
But the best parts of your letters are the stories you share. There are funny ones…
“When I was a very young kid, probably 8 or so, my mother gave me a very stern warning at the galleria. She pulled me to the side and said 'You are absolutely not to use the general mall bathroom because that's where all the lesbians go to find women'. My first response was 'Mom, what's a lebanesian?' The eventuality of this guidance was also that lesbians were creepy men that stalked chicks in the toilet. At around 14 (after I figured things out), I scoped out the mall bathroom--no dice.”
“I recently was on the way to cover an event in California (I'm a… writer), and sat next to a couple of men involved with the ex-gay movement… I don't look gay, I guess--they said I looked 'wholesome' to them--which means my Dinah Shore Weekend pictures never made it onto postcards after all, as I feared… They were baffled that I was gay. I got asked if I had been abused. Had I just not met the right man? How did my parents treat me? When I played sports, were there lesbians on the team that converted me? (Which means they don't know about my 'I've come for your daughter'
t-shirt)…
I was amazed at how much gay literature they read … I wanted to give them 'honorary lesbian' stickers, I swear. Their knowledge of gay sex, S&M, bath houses, threesomes and some hard core, kinky stuff threw me. I was blushing…They didn't suspect me because I had some mascara on, I guess. … I was flying on Southwest, where you choose your seats, so the funny thing is, these guys CHOSE to sit next to me, because they thought I was someone 'safe'. They don't know I almost went all 'Red Eye' on them…”
and sad ones…
“I am a gay woman with a ministry license, and have pastored two Christian churches. I have served as a music minister in a non-denominational Christian church … and was asked to leave once the pastor found out that I was a lesbian. Their excuse for dismissing me? ‘You're very charismatic. We're afraid that other women will want to emulate your lifestyle.'”
“I used to go to church and was told by my youth leader that being gay was wrong and that god would change me. I subsequently spent a year hating myself and beating myself up because I was not acceptable in God's eyes, or anyone else's (well that's what I thought anyway). During this time I started self-harming and relapsed with an eating disorder. Finally I came to the conclusion that if it was this hard to change, that if I was nearly killing myself trying to change, maybe I'm meant to be the way I am.”
See what I mean?
Thank you. Thank you for inviting me into your lives and making my life better for it.
Kim Ficera is the author of Sex, Lies and Stereotypes: An Unconventional Life Uncensored. Her bi-weekly column Don't Quote Me is dedicated to all the folks in and out of Hollywood who talk without thinking or who don't know when to stop talking. Email her at kim@kimficera.com.
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