the Queer QuiverFull

A few minutes ago I was waxing romantic about the future. I was thinking about all of our friends and their children, and I made a broad claim that there is a revolution within the coming generation. My argument was that there are so many more queer, multi-racial, non-nuclear families and these families are changing our culture in really exciting ways.

Rhonda interrupted my utopian fantasy by saying: "Except that the super-conservative Christians are reproducing at four time the rate. You know, the whole QuiverFull thing..."

Oh, right. How could I forget? That's kind of their whole point -- to ensure the future.

This put a momentary pause on my optimism. My response? There needs to be a Queer QuiverFull movement, ASAP.

Six Weeks in Review

The other part of my general overwhelmed-ness has been that the first six weeks of school also brought a whole bunch of events that I either had to coordinate or travel to participate in. There were the very fun but exhausting work trips that led to weekends in Minneapolis with Emily & Elizabeth,

Emily and Rhonda and Mill City farmer's market

and a fun weekend excursion with Adria and Rhonda to Madison.

on the docks at Monona Terrace

There have been several exciting campus events including a really well-attended poetry reading (yay!) that the Writer's Club and I coordinated. My wonderfully talented colleague, Abayo, read some of his work from his forthcoming book _The Giving of Pears_.

Another exciting happening was that UW-Marinette, the second smallest of all the Wisconsin system, hosted the statewide student LGBTQ summit. So, last weekend, 100+ queers and allies descended on Marinette for a summit. It was a lot of fun (Rhonda and I both took part in the conference, including attendance of the Queer Prom), and offered such an interesting moment of reckoning about our shifting perspective on the world. At one point, an earnest college student from Madison or Steven's Point (or one of those big schools) asked the coordinators if they were expecting protesters since "we're in a pretty remote, rural community here." I was both amused and annoyed by the concern, and realized, in that moment, how much I feel a part of this community (and, how surprised I would be to find protesters outside of the conference). Needless to say all went without a hitch.

The biggest surprise of the weekend was when we found ourselves at dinner with the keynote speaker, trans-activist S. Bear Bergman, only to find out that we have one fine friend in common: the famous Mr. Gabriel Foster. So, there I am, absurdly enough, bonding with a queer tranny named Bear over beer-cheese soup and fried cheese curds in Marinette Wisconsin. We laughed a lot about the small-world of queers, and as dinner progressed (and the Rail House home-brew took hold) I began to have the most delicious sense that all is right with the world.

Procrastinatin'

I have a full day of grading ahead of me, and I deeply engaged in the work of distraction. I have been reading the New York Times, chasing turkeys in our yard, reading wikipedia entries about the McCain family, and contemplating trimming the bushes. I am really talented when it comes to procrastination.

So here are some of the tidbits I want to share:

*Last night we had our seventh anniversary dinner. The tradition is that we take turns making fabulous meals; the menu is always a surprise and the non-cook must stay out of the kitchen until it is time to eat. This year Rhonda was the cook, and last night I was presented with an amazing feast:

Apps:
-orange ginger ale
-bacon wrapped scallops
- amazing homemade baguette (a 2-day process)


Dinner:
- broiled salmon on a wilted spinach-citrus salad

Dessert:
- Peach "cobbler" (on homemade scones w/ fresh whipped cream)

It was delicious and fun. After we were done with dinner (and in order to make room for dessert) we danced around the living room for an hour.


* The turkeys are back! I tip toed around the shed and caught this guy trying to get into the garden.


* There are some great Op-Ed pieces in the New York Times right now. This article is really insightful about the "othering" of Obama. It is also just plain disturbing . I cannot believe that 1/3 of all Americans still think Obama is Muslim. (Not to mention the ridiculous assumption that being muslim is suspect. )

P.S. Rhonda is going to see Obama in Green Bay tomorrow. I am jealous that I will be otherwise occupied with the teaching of writing. harumph.

recently overheard

Me: "Rhonda, if you had a big machine in the kitchen that provided unlimited Culver's frozen custard, do you think you would get fat?"

Rhonda: [Long pause]

Me: "Are you gonna answer me? 'Cause I know you, and sometimes you refuse to answer my hypothetical questions."

Rhonda: "I'm thinking." [Long pause.]

Rhonda: "Would it be free?"

Me: [wild laughter]


And this, my friend, is the quintessential difference between Rhonda and me. I would never even ask that question as I would be too busy drooling about the imminent possibility of a lifetime supply of creamy, rich deliciousness.

And here is how the conversation concluded.

Me: "I think I would eat so much of it for a long time and then eventually get kinda sick of eating it. But then I would get into it again. I think I would get really, really fat."

Rhonda: "Hmmm. Well, I kinda think I would like knowing that I could have it at any time, and I wouldn't need to eat that much of it. A few spoons-full after dinner every day. Mmmmmm!"

Me: [Shooting Rhonda a contemptuous look that cannot be defined in works]

Friends of Dorothy

Several months ago my mother and grandmother kinda accidentally ended up at a gay pride event in Rehoboth Beach. My mom and I both -- and in different ways -- thought the story was very funny. My favorite part was when she described coming across a booth with t-shirts, some of which read "Friends of Dorothy." My mom then turned to her mother, Dorothy, and asked "so, what do you think THAT means?"

In a ridiculous train of thought that only the attention deficient could appreciate, this story came back to me as I thought about the past three weeks of visiting family and friends. After 25 days away, we finally returned to casa lesbinger (still looking for a good home/farm/estate name!) yesterday afternoon.

While away, Rhonda and I got to spend lots of time with our families -- together and apart -- and I finally got to meet and spend time with her niece and nephew. This was no small thing: it has been a number of years since Rhonda came out to her family and, until this Christmas, I had only met her sister and family once. Distance (us in Seattle and them in Virginia), adjustments (they being quite Christian) and timing meant that I had never spent time with the whole family before. It was a really big deal (to me and for Rhonda as well) that I was welcomed and included in their family Christmas celebrations. I finally got to play and talk with those kids whose photos have been gracing our refrigerator for years.

One night when we all went out to dinner together, I had this strange moment of feeling a part of Rhonda's family. There was also realization of the multiple ways in which the "family" sitting around the table was quite amazing. Rhonda's family is white, and her brother-in-law is Chinese-American, and the kids are bi-racial (duh!). As we sat around the table in our queer, multi-racial formation, it struck me that this family assembled here was very different from what Rhonda's parents could have imagined for their future when they were the parents of two young girls. And yet, there we were. together. connected to each other.

This all comes back around for me with the idea of Dorothy -- as in Wizard of Oz -- as a gay icon because she is the de facto queen of a group of rag-tag characters ( who feel out of place because of a lack of courage, heart, and brains). Dorothy is the glue that creates "family" in unlikely circumstances; she is the one who extends the boundaries of norms and acceptance.

I appreciate all of the various formations of my queer (literally and figuratively, of course) families and the ways in which the lives of those around me make me feel at home.

outlaws

Rhonda's parents are in town. They are really good people -- kind and generous and extremely hard working. They are wrapping up day two of insulating and dry-walling our bedroom. The significance is not lost on me that Rhonda's rather conservative, Christian, parents drove 16 hours to spend a week working on their lesbian daughter's big-gay bedroom.

Did I mention that we have never spent any time together before (I had only met them once before).

"family"

So, uhm, about the "dyke bar" in Green Bay... here is my version of the story with some creative liberties taken.

The cute waitress at the sushi place (which was amazing) warned us that "Sass" could be, at times, "scary." We asked for clarification and she said "it's enough to turn you straight." She went on to explain that people could be really unfriendly and clique-ish and that you could practically get beat up for just looking at someone the wrong way. Rhonda and I looked at each other and said why not -- it would at least be interesting in a rough-and-tumble kind of way.

So, we headed towards the industrial area -- which, in Green Bay, is practically redundant-- turning right under the overpass and before the train tracks. The bar was almost unmarked -- there were neon signs in the window including some rainbow Bud signs and one that read "Sass" in very small letters.

We prepare our tough-selves to enter this tough bar. We walk in. There is nobody there. just the bar tender. Marissa, I think. We look around and the very, very bare-essentials interior (an old, run down couch in one corner, two pool tables, several video game) and amble over to the bar. Within a minute two more women (probably younger, looked like they play softball) come in and sit at the opposite end of the bar. We order drinks, and birthday girl gets a free shot. I am completely and totally distracted by the fact that there are multiple TVs on and I can't match up the sound with the image. Needless to say I am not the best bar-companion. At some point, after the tequila and gin and tonics settle into her blood stream, Rhonda begins lamenting the situation: "Why isn't there anyone here? Where are all the dykes? Are there only four dykes in Green Bay? I WANT EYE CANDY!" The latter, of course, is so unlike Rhonda that I begin laughing hysterically and practically fall off of the bar stool. As I look around to reassess the situation, my eyes are drawn to the fact that the woman closest to us is nursing a plastic bottle. My eyes then fall to the bar where I see her tin of chewing tobacco next to her drink. I swivel back to rhonda and report back that dykes in Wisconsin CHEW TOBACCO. Rhonda, as amazed, squints her eyes to peer through the dark and sees the bottle in hand. She squeals like a little girl and says "oh my god, ewwwww. gross."

We soon after left the bar and headed to the grocery store. We stocked up on two weeks worth of food and headed back to our little house. We were home and in bed by midnight; I'm sure that the scene at Sass was just beginning to get interesting.

Six Years

Today we are celebrating our anniversary. Two days early. But it is my year to cook, and I figured that preparing a big meal after teaching until 4pm was not a likely option. And tomorrow night there is an Eagles game, so Rhonda would be unavailable to eat...

So we broke with tradition -- usually a surprise dinner cooked alternately by one of us -- and instead had anniversary brunch. I started with from-scratch cinnamon rolls. Then we took a walk in the woods with buddy. It was a particularly eventful walk as we scared a brood of turkeys who were hanging out in a clearing, and then we watched deer cutting across the path ahead of us. We sat for a while, listening to the trees rustle and taking note of how beautiful it is here.

Then, the real food began. I made (for the first time, mind you) a PA Dutch/Southern staple: chicken and gravy on waffles!! Rhonda was surprised, amused at my selection, and we were both amazed at how delicious it all was. I also made a side of applesauce made from apples picked by the Kallgren children yesterday (thank you!) and we ate outside in the sun. We plopped a table in the middle of the back field/garden area and enjoyed the wonderful strangeness of realizing that in the last of our six years together we changed almost everything. To find ourselves sitting in our garden in Northern Wisconsin is both disorienting and delightful. I know we are both glad to be on this adventure together.

the big question

I have been thinking that it is time to take a minute to talk about the big picture: we are two women, in a relationship with each other, who have chosen to move from Seattle (often regarded as a haven of progressivism) to Northern Wisconsin (not often regarded as such).

People have expressed concern for our safety and well-being. Others have no doubt thought that we were nuts to move from a broadly supportive community into a great unknown. Still others have expressed their enthusiasm and support for taking this step.

So far, we have been met with a lot of warmth and kindness. We have been welcomed to the community in a variety of ways and with great sincerity. We have also confused some people. At one point I had to explain to a service person who wanted to leave a message for Rhonda: "No, really, you can talk to me. Rhonda's refrigerator is my refrigerator."

Today we found out that several people on campus were under the impression that I was moving to the area with my daughter, Rhonda. Thankfully, some of my colleagues took it upon themselves to clear things up. (My thought: I know that my dissertation defense sprouted some new gray hairs. But, do I really look that old?)

Today Rhonda met our neighbors to the south -- an elderly couple named Herbert and Betty. Herbert took a spill in the driveway and Rhonda went over to help. She and Betty ended up chatting for a while. Rhonda did not proclaim herself a homo to Betty's face. Betty might not get it. If she did get it, she might be bothered or scared. But, I imagine she understood that there was a kind person helping her husband when she could not. It is my naive and abiding faith in the power of community and connection that continues to make me believe this big adventure will work.

I have no doubt that we will face some tough experiences here. This is a reality for all people in this country who are not a part of the majority culture. I can't imagine how our experiences would be different if we were people of color, non-citizens, poor, etc.

I also find it tremendously reassuring to know that we have a community of people out there reading this little blog and wishing us well on our journey.