Labels: Which to wear to Christmas?

I came out as queer in 2009. The reason this subject has been on my mind lately has everything to do with the use of labels, my family, and the holidays.

For several years I’ve applied several labels to myself without problem. In 2005 I took on the label of liberal. In 2007 I took on the label of feminist. These labels I wore with pride, and they seemed to fit me comfortably. When I came out as queer, however, the taking of that label felt different to me. It was an appropriate label, but it just didn’t feel the same.

It was when I started coming out to people that I decided against the term bisexual and went with queer instead. However, when getting to know new people, I didn’t always use the term queer. It wasn’t that I felt ashamed of my sexuality, but openly applying the label with new people was a challenge for me, one that I didn’t seem to face when discussing the topic with people I had known before and had then come out to. The more I think about it, the more I’m convinced that it has something to do with the fact that the nature of the labels is different.

When I say that I’m a feminist, people may make assumptions about my attitude and my sexuality, but they also make assumptions about my ideas and my politics. When I say that I’m queer, people only have my sexuality to make assumptions about, and that hits a lot closer to home and is a lot more personal than when people have other things to assume. I’ve made a lot of progress in being comfortable with the label queer, and I’m wearing it a lot more freely than I did at first. But being at home with my family for winter break makes me feel like hiding again.

My sister is the only person in my family that I’ve deliberately come out to. I never did come out to my parents directly. They know because they found out who I’m dating. Since my sister and I have been home from college, I’ve talked to her about a plan I had come up with, one that I wouldn’t actually undertake. I wanted to come out to the rest of my mother’s family on Christmas Eve, before dinner, after the prayer, and after someone, as always, asks, “Any announcements?” I would tell my grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins something catchy like, “I’m here, and I’m queer!”

When I mentioned that idea, my sister cautioned me. She said that maybe queer wasn’t the best word choice. She said that some of my relatives may not understand what queer meant and that they might think that I only liked women. Although I disagreed with the tone of the statement which suggested that having people assume I was strictly attracted to women was somehow worse than liking men, women, and everyone in between, my sister did have a valid point.

There was an incident a few years ago in which some family members started talking about one of my second cousins. He is the only of three brothers who hasn’t gotten married and had children. He still doesn’t even have a girlfriend. My family discussed how, perhaps, he was gay. Several family members seemed unwilling to even consider the idea, appearing rather put off by the thought. At the time, the incident made me uncomfortable. Remembering it now makes me hesitant, especially considering that my mother’s family is rather religious, although not overbearing about their beliefs.

As the holidays approach, all I can think about is how my mother’s family is aware of some of the labels I wear, but not all of them. It doesn’t seem fair. The only reason I choose to wear labels is so that people who know me can have a better understanding of who I am. Labels are identifiers and are not static. Labels should evolve. New ones should pop up and old, inaccurate ones should fade out when a person changes. Can my family truly know who I am if they aren’t aware of a label that is important to me? Is it fair of me to not tell them something that might make them uncomfortable, even if I want to be open? Thinking about this, I need to decide which ones I’ll be wearing to celebrate the holidays this year with my family.

Weight-preoccupation and the holidays

I have been super busy with the end of term in late November, finishing my novel that I wrote in 26 days for National Novel Writing Month, and the holidays, so I apologize for my lack of posting lately.

But while I was on my blog break I was dealing with a problem that I have been thinking about recently from a feminist perspective. It's a problem that many women face in this society that (no matter how many exceptions anyone tries to name) pushes women to extremes when it comes to their physical appearance. The issue I have been facing has been weight-preoccupation.

It isn't an eating disorder like anorexia or bulimia, but it is a real problem. Personally, my weight-preoccupation means that I get so concerned about what I eat and how it effects my outward appearance that I end up feeling bad about myself to the point of my bad feelings consuming my thoughts. When I was in high school these feelings often meant that I would eat a meal, feel bad about it, and exercise until I worked off all the calories I had just consumed (and then some). I used to spend hours riding a bike every day in order to justify eating a full meal. Now it just means feeling guilty and unattractive, which isn't any better.

The holidays are awful for me when it comes to my relationship with food and my feelings of self-worth. I'm home from college which means more food is available to me, and it also means that my family is baking a lot more than usual. Cookies, breads, and lots of other sweets are in abundance around here and every time I put something in my mouth, I am overwhelmed with a feeling of shame. Luckily I have not reverted to my old habit of exessive exercise, but that means I am left feeling unattractive. All because I indulged in a little holiday cheer.

It makes me so mad when I feel like this, but that doesn't help make it go away. I know that I am a beautiful person because of my accomplisments and what I have to offer as a person. But it seems that during the holidays none of that matters because all I can focus on is how unattractive I must be for eating some cookies...because the women on TV and in the magazines scattered around my house, none of them look like they have eaten any cookies.