Taboo: Chapter Three

As I sit here on my couch on Christmas Eve, I find myself confused.

While I’m expected to be celebrating the birth of Jesus, the only thing running through my mind is a long list of unanswered questions.

My questions are not original. I’m not the first person to ever have thoughts that challenge mainstream Christianity. My struggles with God are common with yours, but your struggles aren’t the ones that occupy my brain. This is a customized battle. One that God and I have learned to know well. The script and dance steps are well rehearsed. The same questions and doubts are always brought into the ring, but at the end of the day I return to my post and forfeit. Relinquishing my need for answers due to frustration, tiredness and wariness. I have, however, discovered through this process that having too many questions hinders your ability to hear the answers.

I believe there is a difference between religion and spirituality.

I’m not in search of religion. Religion is easily obtainable. I have a religion. I go to church. I’ve maneuvered myself through all the appropriate ministries and have felt temporary fulfillment through them. Spirituality is something that grows way deeper than just memorizing John 3:16 and repeating it enough times until it makes sense. To me, it’s a more complex level of consciousness and connectedness to oneself and to God. I have been fascinated by spirituality for years, but it seems my analytical behavior prevents me from experiencing it fully.

My life is surrounded by people of all levels of belief. From die-hard Christianity to atheism. When I was about 10 my father decided that our family would stop going to church and thus turn against his strong southern Baptist upbringing. Growing up he would never explain to me his reasons because he believed that I needed to decide my own path and not be restricted to his. Although his intentions were good, giving me “free will” left me dangling, unsure and without direction. As an adult I’ve asked about his outlook on God, but he is still silent. He still will not explain what happened all those years ago. Since I’m no longer a child, I assume his reasons for not being forth coming has changed. I often wonder if he fears my judgment while the truth is no more than me wanting to get to know my father. Wanting to know how his questions compare to mine. Wanting to know if we have the same fears or if he has somehow figured it all out. Because of the tiny bit of information I have managed to squeeze out, I have categorized him as an agnostic.

I believe my father’s decision catapulted my spiritual search.

One would view this as positive. It’s caused me to be open minded, nonjudgmental, and tolerant of different belief systems. Although I tend to stand on shaky ground about many spiritual issues, there are two things I do believe: that God exists and that we will transition into a different life experience after we die.

I think a lot of times we tend to mentally put God in a small box and project humanistic thoughts and characteristics on him. I’m guilty of doing this during my personal battles with him. At times I feel I’m fighting with a handicap. That maybe I’m not supposed to know certain answers, but yet I still ask the same questions over and over again. Not unlike my father, God remains silent. Why did God give me an analytical personality if he has no intentions on humoring me with answers? Why did he give me the ability to love a man’s mind, body and soul but yet hasn’t provided someone to receive it?

People blame God for tragedies as well using him as a coping mechanism.

Some people say they survived cancer though the Word of God while others say they survived on their own strength and positive outlook. I want to know why. If someone claims to overcome cancer “by the grace of God” then doesn’t that imply that those who passed were not in his graces?

Tammy Faye Bakker is in the final stages of cancer. She is now in hospice and weighs 68lbs. During a phone interview on Larry King Live the other night, she said that she has faith that God will heal her. That God will rid her body of this cancer and she will then be able to use her testimony to show others the power of God. Even though Tammy Faye is a person who is easily made fun of, I believe she is sincere. That she believes what she believes. Although a bit quirky, I don’t view her as a con. But I’m not a fan of hers. I can’t get past the eyelashes and the too-bubbly personality. Nevertheless, if it is true that God expects us to have faith in him and spread his Word, then Tammy Faye has done way more than most of us. If she’s expecting herself to be healed… will she? If she dies, what is our answer? That she didn’t have enough faith? That faith doesn’t matter? That it was just her time to go? That there is no God? That God chose to decline the perfect opportunity to perform a miracle in front of millions of witnesses? If she does live, will you give the credit to science or to God?

On Christmas Day my family will sit around the dinner table, hold hands and say a prayer of thanks to God. Of course it will end in the customary “…to the nourishment of our bodies.” I have many things to be thankful for this Christmas. I have wonderful friends who I hold close to my heart and a family that is incredibly supportive.

But as I sit there at the table with my eyes closed, I’ll most likely be asking the question “Who are you exactly?”

Taboo: Chapter Two

I have an announcement. This is quite difficult for me, so please be patient. Ok, here we go….

I’m straight.

Whew! I feel better now. Nothing better than cleansing the soul by announcing a secret. I’ve never really come right out and said it before. I mean, I know I’m straight. I’ve always felt straight. I’ve never actually told my family that I am straight. I hope they will understand and love me anyway. Maybe I’ll just write them a letter of confession and then leave town for a while. Or maybe I should just confront the issue and invite them over for dinner to reveal the true me. My true self. My true colors. My straightness. Stand there emotionally naked and hope that they will accept me and my straight lifestyle.

Why does it sound silly when someone announces that they’re straight, but it has to be shocking and news worthy when someone says they’re gay?

The world gasped when they saw the front cover of People Magazine.

Lance Bass from ‘N Sync has come out. He’s out of the closet. He’s wide open. He’s now publicly announcing that he's batting for the other team. You know what?

I don’t care.

I don’t care that he’s gay. I don’t care that Mr. Bass would rather date Brad Pitt instead of Angelina Jolie. I really don’t. But what I do care about is that it’s such a big deal. It shouldn’t be.

I don’t want this blog entry to turn into some politically driven advocate for… well… anyone. It is not my agenda to attempt to convince someone that their beliefs are wrong and mine are right. You have every right to believe whatever you want. It’s called freedom. However, this is my blog you’re reading… so have a seat.

I look forward to the day when people are just people. Gay, straight, white, black, whatever. I’m tired of it being an issue. I’m tired of people having to hide their “gayness” due to the fear of judgment. I’m tired of them feeling like they have to maintain a lie to their family, their friends, the public and themselves.

Lance Bass being gay has no impact on my life. It’s a non-issue. I’m ready for the world to move forward onto some new social issues. This one is old and worn out. We really should get past it. I’m tired of it being the headline in big bold lettering on every magazine cover. I think we should make up a new social issue just so we would have something new to be shocked about.

Lance Bass says, “I’m gay.” Great. Can we move on now?

You won’t find a rainbow bumper sticker on my car. I have no plans to march in any parade. Being gay is not my issue. It shouldn’t even BE an issue. Part of me feels that stickers, parades, and headlines are what’s keeping it an issue. Feeding it. I don’t have any problems with someone who is gay. My problem is how society reacts to it with shock and surprise.

The only time I would care if a guy is gay is if I am interested in him. I mean, I don’t care that he’s gay. It’s just that I would consider this a vital piece of information if I want to date him.

Me: Hey, baby. You’re kinda cute. Wanna go to my place?
Him: I’m gay.
Me: That’s awesome. Appreciate the heads up. Wanna go shoe shopping?
Him: Yes!

See how easy that was? No social pressure. No People Magazine. No coming out party. No news ticker crawling across the bottom of your tv screen.

I find it sad that people can’t just be who they are. You and I may not agree with the same style of music, but you know what? I don’t care. It’s not even issue-worthy. I might tease or humiliate you about your distaste for that twangy-country-crap, but I’m not going to hold it against you.

What if you’re black? You know what? I don’t care. Hispanic? Don’t care. Schizophrenic? I don’t care (yet intrigued).

I’m not really sure where this whole blog has headed. But you know what? I don’t care.

Taboo: Chapter One

I'm about to embark on some sensitive territory here.

There are certain topics that people don't discuss. For whatever reason. They are private issues that make people uncomfortable. The topics are taboo. Announcing your point of view sometimes can either ridicule you or make you a hero. It depends on the audience around you.

Why is it that we can’t talk about them? Is it because we carry so much shame? Was the shame ignited by our own hands or are we carrying around the shame of others?

Do we not talk about these issues because of our fear of stepping on toes? Because it’s politically incorrect? Can’t offend people? I personally feel that today’s society is too sensitive. I find it funny that everyone gets in an up-roar when something off-color is said, while the stuff we watch on TV makes those statements look like a nursery rhyme.

Sex, religion, abortion, homosexuality, politics

… fill in your own blank. There are many more to choose from.

There’s this 26 year old guy from Michigan who’s causing a stink in the court system about reproductive choices for men. He’s fighting for an equal level of protection under the “freedom of choice” law. He wants men to be given as much a choice as women if there’s an unexpected bun in the oven. He says that women have complete control… they can abort, keep the kid, or put it up for adoption while men are left having to put duct tape across their mouth and accept the choice. Apparently his ex-girlfriend ended up preggers and he wasn’t ready to fulfill any fatherly duties.

Ok, so here’s my view point:

I agree with him.

I’ve actually wondered about this for many years. I’ve often wondered about all those men who actually WANTED their kid, but then having to surrender to the baby’s momma’s choice for abortion. And then there’s the flip side… the women who choose to have their baby with men who have no desire to be fathers.

Now don’t get me wrong, if two people are married, I think you are both responsible. That's just the contract of marriage. I know of too many women who have gotten knocked up on purpose just to trap their boyfriend into a life long miserable commitment. I also know too many people who have gotten pregnant waaaay on accident and it always has been the woman who makes all the decisions.

I’m an “equal rights” kind of gal.
I’m a “freedom of choice” kind of gal.

I have never had an abortion. I’ve never been faced with that type of gut wrenching choice. But to be honest, I personally couldn’t do it. I couldn’t abort my baby – embryo - fetus – whatever you want to call it. However, I’m not going to judge another woman’s choice to do so. I’ve had friends who have had abortions. Shoot, I drove someone to an abortion clinic myself many moons ago. We were both very young, she was scared, and it was the only option she felt she had.

But so much attention is on the woman. What about good ole dad? The child is part his, too. That kid may have his eyes and nose and DNA, but Daddy has no say so in whether this child lives or dies. And what if he doesn’t want to be a father? Doesn’t matter. He’s forever stuck with the label of dead-beat-dad when the truth is he was just trying to get laid. If the woman doesn’t want to be a mother, she has two options. He? None.

Ok, I’m going off on a tangent, I know. That’s what happens when I start writing without a plan. Ok, fine. I never have a plan.

If I were to ever find myself in that situation, I would hope and pray that it would be with a man who will love me and our child. If he chooses to leave, I would be pissed and heartbroken. I guess the solution is to always play it "safe" – both guys and dolls.

I would love to go into the other taboo topics, but I feel that I’ve said enough in this little blog entry. Who knows, maybe I’ll tackle one of the others later.