Oh, Thank the Goddess!

Okay, I’m just going to say it, with all due respect for those who feel differently than me: I’ve never been a fan of the word http://ramblingfisherman.com/2011/10/stamp-river-good-weather-is-finally-here-and-on-the-forecast/ lesbian.

There’s just something about it that doesn’t work for me. It sounds wrong, the stretched-out leeezzzz feels (and sounds), well, kind of lecherous, and the -bian part makes me feel as though I’m a resident of some kind of alien colony on a patchouli-scented planet populated by plaid-shirted, mullet-sporting, womyn. And while I know and love many patchouli-scented, plaid-shirted, mullet-sporting, womyn, I know many more who don’t fit into any easily demarcated category or stereotype.

And then there’s the definition itself, this focus on — as I imagine Deborah would put it — the private bits of the person you happen to be shtupping. To me, the term and the focus feel too narrow: this is whom you sleep with, therefore this is who you are, end of story.

But what happens if you fall off the wagon and, say, sleep with someone else whose private bits differ from your own? What happens if you haven’t slept with anyone for ages and/or maybe don’t plan to? What happens if you’re in the process of transforming from a woman who sleeps with women into, perhaps, a man who sleeps with women, or something in between? What if you’re a teenager (or an adult) just trying to figure all that out? And so on.

PHOTO CREDIT: Costumekingdom

So when the site LesbianFamily.org relaunched, as much as I was (and am) thrilled to be part of this collective group of fantastic writers and parents and people, I also groaned inwardly at the name: so much of the project fit so well with my worldview of a diverse array of families — two moms, two dads, single parents, combinations of moms/dads/donors families, bi parents, extended communities of parents and aunties and uncles — and yet the name didn’t do all this justice. What is a “Lesbian Family,” after all? I kept picturing two big patchouli-scented, plaid-shirted, mullet-sporting, womyn and two miniature patchouli-scented, plaid-shirted, mullet-sporting, womyn.

Enter VillageQ. I’m taking the Q as queer, although I imagine it could stand for whatever anyone wants it to — and that’s the point, really, isn’t it? For me, queer speaks to a fluidity and parenting and families that is so well served by the site. Queer to me means the ability to embody and embrace our lives, our families, and our desires and all their complex and complicated and messy glory, without having to kowtow to rigid definitions of what makes a family and who gets to be in mine or yours, regardless of not only private parts but gender, class, biology, cultural/religious/ethnic background, and more.

And while I would be the first to admit that I’m not yet fully encouraging my own two children to buck all authority, queer is how I want my kids to orient themselves to the world. I want them to be able to, eventually, understand that most things aren’t so simple, that you can’t easily categorized and define most people, more most relationships, most families, most situations. I want them to learn to get comfortable with perceived contradictions, to understand that often the most interesting spots are the spaces in between perceived polar opposites, to welcome uncertainty and find the beauty and the joy within it.

 And I want them to do that, with me, with the support and participation of an extended community of family and friends and allies and co-conspirators. VillageQ is one such extended community — and I’m so happy to be a part of it and all its complex and complicated and messy glory.