My Mother Neglected: Growing USd And Latently Queer
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The Things My Mother Neglected: Growing Up Sad and Latently Queer“What does your mother do for a living?” A friend’s mother, a professor, or curious acquaintance asks me. “She’s dead.” When asked, the question came from a place of friendly intentions. How were they supposed to know that such a simple question would produce such a morbid answer? I have answered hundreds of variations of this same question and after repeating the same answer every time, I have become rather desensitized. “Oh, I am so sorry.” Now we are both uncomfortable. The pity and sorrow coming across in the word “sorry” brings me annoyance. I do not need anyone to feel sorry for me, especially when it comes to my mother’s death. “It’s okay, it happens.” I know my mother is dead and have long ago stopped questioning the reality of my mother-less life. I have accepted this fact and have moved on.
I have found my life to be a part of a classic genre: the dead mom story. Mothers die. They are no less mortal than a fly. Eventually everyone and everything dies; it’s how the world works. However, I suppose no one expects their mother to die while they are…show more content… When I realized three years ago that I enjoyed the romantic company of females, it brought me joy. I am more than aware that labels possess fluidity; if I were to write a memoir a few months ago, I would have probably defined myself solely by the term “bulimic”. While I hope I soon lose my identification of sad, the fact that I will still be a lesbian when I wake up tomorrow eases me. When I walk to class and see a cute girl, my chest will still flutter and my face will redden. Though the exact details of my idealistic life-mate may change, I will still hope it will be someone I will refer to as “wife”. Aside from the initial realization of my homosexuality, there are no specific experiences or canons that have led me to this identity. I am a lesbian.