Come out, come out, wherever you are
When I was still a teenager, I came up with a brilliant (if I do say so myself) idea for a Broadway musical: The story of the first gay President and the First Significant Other. Acts I would cover the campaign and election and conclude with the Inaugural Ball, during which the First S.O., costumed as Glinda, would sing a song that began with Glinda’s invitation to the Munchkins, “Come out, come out, whatever you are.” That would be such a show-stopper. *sighs*
Unfortunately, I never quite figured out what would happen in the second act. (“American lives have no second act.”) But today is National Coming Out Day; it’s also the day when the Ekklesia Antinoou comes out to the ancestors and remembers all of its spiritual ancestors, the sancti and sanctae.
PSVL had this to say a few years ago about coming out to ancestors:
…Our ancestors have a vested interest in their lines of descendants continuing; thus, they’re interested in and are often our first lines of defense and first sources of assistance when it comes to health, wealth, and other matters of well-being, so that their descendants flourish and are healthy and are all the more likely to carry on honoring them and remembering them for their blessings and contributions toward their descendants’ success. They have a vested interest not only in making sure their descendants do well, but also in encouraging their descendants to have offspring of their own. (And, in case anyone feels that is in some sense pejorative, own that viewpoint and opinion for yourself: it is what it is, and it’s no better or worse than the desire that many deities have to be honored, or the desire that most humans have to be loved and appreciated. It’s no better or worse than any other potential motive or driving ideation that any sentient beings, corporeal or otherwise, might have.)
Those of us who are queer in some fashion or other are often less likely to have descendants than our non-queer siblings and other relatives. We are, thus, biological and genealogical dead-ends.
As a stepparent with no children of my body, I am to some extent one of those dead ends; however, I have an older sister, who has a daughter, who has a son, so my genetic line does not simply stop with me. And I am fortunate that no one close to me ever pressured me to bear a child.
So, what do I have to come out about today? I am a cis female, queer, bisexual, clinically depressed, divorced, polytheist, devotee of Antinous, media fan, fanfic writer, unabashed fan of Chris Evans, fat person, cockatiel owner, friend of birds, Angry Birds fiend, chocoholic, lover of red wine and dark beer. And this is my blog.