Motley Moose – Archive

This diary was inspired by the national gadfly’s brilliant article I Was A Teen-age Sexist Chicken. It started as a comment and then with the  kind urging of Michelle Marshall it started looking like a diary. Michelle then really dug in, helped me with some editing, and provided the awesome pics. Thank you both for the inspiration and perspiration. I also want to thank Ani and my mother and my agent…uh…sorry, just went over the deep end there for a moment;~D

I think I was born a ‘radical lesbian separatist feminist from hell’.  And yet I am still a chicken when it comes to women and feminism.  These are issues for which I do not have a map and am fairly certain that is true for most of us.  I only have my personal experiences to draw upon. As do all of you.

Growing Up

My earliest memories of gender and sex were different than everyone else around me (or so I assumed). Until puberty, I thought that God had mistakenly made me a girl. I identified with boys and had crushes on girls and women. I discovered quickly this was not acceptable behavior or thinking in the late 1960’s and early 70’s, and I learned to curb and hide any sexuality. After [redacted’s] mother caught us kissing in the fourth grade, I learned to be very careful.

As for the issue of gender, all I can say is that I was a complete tomboy, and I learned to be a feminist at a very young age. As long as I had to be a girl, I absolutely thought I could do anything a boy could. However, life and people worked hard to show me that I was wrong. In the summer, at our cabin, everyone knew me and accepted me for who I was. However, we moved a lot, and in the winter some teachers and other kids worked hard to teach me how freaking weird I was.

While I had a couple of secret girlfriends after that, I learned that no matter how much girls would touch me, hold my hand or arm, or lean on me in public; I could not touch back.

After growing up overseas, my family moved to northwestern North Dakota, where my parents found work in a small town school system. We were in the middle of a flat, desolate, and sparsely populated part of North Dakota, fifty miles north of Minot. Upham was more of a cultural shock for me than was Tehran. After two long years there, my mom decided to get her Masters degree at the University of North Dakota in Grand Forks. She did it for herself, but did it for me as well in an attempt to bring me to a better place to live.

It worked. I came alive.

Coming Out

At the age of 18, I went to one of the first meetings of the UND Gay and Lesbian student group. While I was still a high school senior, I petitioned the superintendent to allow me to take classes at the University. No one had ever done this before, and I had to threaten to drop out of school to get him to let me off campus. A high school diploma was not required at UND. I only needed three classes to graduate and wanted to do something useful, rather than spend it at Central High.

University was awesome. I was not the best student unless it interested me. But it opened up a whole new world for me. At 15 or so I tried once, unsuccessfully, to talk to my Mom about being a lesbian. I chickened out. I never told anyone I was a gay until I moved to Grand Forks. Once I began classes, I started to get involved with student activities. My first big involvement was the newly formed gay and lesbian student group. One night in early fall, I mustered up every bit of my courage, and went to a meeting. Soon after, I came out to my parents, and became deeply involved in the group.

Those first couple of years I majored in Dances 101, student speaking tours 102, conferences 103, and concerts 104 and 105.  I also helped start the Association for Women Students and was a intern and caretaker for the Women’s Center. We had an amazing array of speakers, musicians, and conferences over those years.  I met Bella Abzug, Kate Millet and Angela Davis, just to name a few.  I helped produce concerts that included Chris Williamson, Deirdre McCalla, Lucie Blue Tremblay, Teresa Trull with Barbara Higbie, and many more.  I got a minor in Women Studies.  I considered myself a radical lesbian separatist feminist from hell (my own creation).

I was also a student senator for a couple of years and fought like holy hell to get funding for multi-cultural organizations.  We helped create a unique funding branch for cultural student groups as the Student Activities Committee were the most horrifying group of Reaganites I have ever met. Ok, the Student Senate was pretty bad as well.  We were fortunate to have a strong supporter in the Director of the Student Union and a lot of faculty and staff worked hard to create the Women Studies minor. UND has a strong Native American Center and Studies, Women’s Center, Black Student Center, Peace and Justice initiatives and many other activities for diversity.  It was fun times.

Feminism and Sexism from the Front Lines

I learned at some point that men are really not the (entire) problem and that feminism could be as rigid and dogmatic as any church or doctrine.  This disturbed me.  When we returned to the U.S., I realized we had fled one fundamentalist revolution only to return to another (think moral majority and Ronald Reagan), so I recognized the symptoms.  

I do not like political correctness. I would rather that people think about what they are doing and saying, and not be so frightened to speak up. Whenever I want to know about something that is sensitive, I ask the person what they think about the issue.  Everyone is an expert of their own issues.

On the other hand, I believe that sexism may very well be the blueprint for all other discrimination. When someone in your life is considered inferior — your mother, sister, daughter or partner — it is my opinion that sets the paradigm for relationships with those who are different from us.  I believe that sexism, racism, and homophobia hurt everyone, even those who might appear to benefit from the oppression.

Embracing My Own Version of Feminism

I think I finally learned to appreciate being a girl/woman in my late teens. I remember the Gay and Lesbian movement of the late 70’s very well. I realized that I was a lesbian and
tried to come to terms with that identity. In doing so, I started reading every lesbian book I could find. Then I started reading feminist books, and found a real affinity for the feminist movement of the late 70’s and into the 80’s.

I no longer want to be a man.  I really do not want to be a man.  I like being a woman, and yet I am not sure what that means.  My Native American friends call gays and lesbians “Two Spirit” people.  I like that, as I feel I walk in both worlds.

Am I a feminist?  Yes, but I no longer identify as solely a lesbian feminist, and I am certainly not a separatist any longer.  I have really good friendships with men.  My best friend is a gay man who is the same age as me.  I have two wonderful friends who I worked with when I was at the county.  They were both (initially) conservative, retired Master Sgts who liked to hunt and fish and do other traditional guy things.  I get along with most men I meet.  I get along with most women I meet as well.  I guess all I require in a friend is a good brain, the capacity for compassion, and the ability to change.  Oh and a sense of humor is essential.

You may wonder why I think I am a chicken.  Frankly, I am a bit frightened by women and am sometimes uncertain about my feminist cred.  I will say again that I learned to be very careful with women.  Women still occasionally get touchy with me and cling to me.  Straight women will sometimes flirt with me.  It usually makes me uncomfortable, and I do not really understand why.  Perhaps I am still afraid of [redacted’s] mother.

I am not sure what feminism is anymore. I think that human beings are restricted by false roles and beliefs. Men should be strong and [fill in your favorite stereotypes]. Women should be compassionate and [fill in your favorite stereotypes]. In the real world, every human being is unique. All of our stories are different and yet the same. I don’t believe in required gender roles. Be who you are! I have learned not to give a shit what people think about me not fitting in. I believe I have had one of the most interesting lives I know of, and yet, perhaps I am just still afraid of the Director of the Women’s Center.