I’ve had murals on the mind, as of late.
I’ve had a lot on my mind, as of late; I’m sure I’ve mentioned it.
This is the crossroads of those two things.
A few days ago, my husband of ten years became my wife of ten years. Or rather, revealed she was my wife of ten years — coming out is about recognition and revelation of what has always been there, however deeply it may have been buried.
One of people’s first questions over the last few days when she’s been telling people she’s trans is for them to ask — either bluntly (as my father-in-law did) or with more subtle, gentle language — if she and I were staying together.
I mean — yes, of course. We love each other, and gender is incidental to me at best (my own gender being fairly ambiguous, and my sexuality being pretty flexible). Any fears or concerns I have — and I do have them, don’t get me wrong — are focused entirely on the cruelty and intolerance that others are capable of, not of my own feelings of attraction or affection towards her. The relationship between she and I, our own interpersonal give-and-take, has not changed. Will not change, at least not directly or dramatically from this, and at least not any more or less than any relationship shifts and changes over the years as both parties themselves grow, and shift, and change.
I cannot imagine not being in this with her for the long-haul. I cannot imagine her not being in my life.
And so, as Pride Month winds down, and my wife begins living her life authentically, I painted our closet doors with our Pride flags.
From left to right: genderqueer and bisexual (mine); trans and lesbian (hers).
The weather has turned from warm to hot; the typical summer thunderstorms have been rolling through all day, teasing a break in the humidity.
We’ve been invited to some social events — all outdoors, all socially distanced, all COVID safety guidelines compliant — and are hoping to get out a little more frequently with smaller groups of friends in the warm weather. I know there must be some mental health benefits to seeing people, and I know (intellectually) there are safe ways to do that, so we should probably make an effort. I miss the sun. I miss seeing people’s faces.
Stay safe, sane, and inside — or outside (masked and socially distant, of course).