Judgment
So this week, I'm thinking about judgment.
Turns out, my husband's family is very, very upset with us for not having a wedding. Even worse, they don't know that we got married six months before he told them we got married. Further, apparently, because he spent more time with Jim and Paula and the rest of my family last Christmas than he did with his own family, I'm a horrible person.
Turns out, the whole result of this is a judgment on me. I am apparently a bad influence, someone who is taking their son and grandson away from them (even though the military did that years ago.)
So, along with the harassment I've received from sharing my story of sexual assault online, it's been an exhausting few weeks for me.
But here's the ultimate thing: why does anyone care what I do with my own damn life?
I am grateful every day that we didn't have a wedding. For some people, that's a beautiful and touching moment, shared with friends and family, and often with some sort of god as well. I didn't want that. Brandon and I didn't want the stress, or the cost, my god, or having to deal with conflicting familial traditions. We didn't want to plan it from Colorado and have it in North Carolina, or have it in Colorado and have everyone we know fly to us. We just wanted it to be the two of us (and the judge), quietly and simply professing our love for each other on a Thursday afternoon in early January. We went to dinner afterward, got a bottle of bubbly, and bought rings two months later.
So, I'm thinking about judgment, and about how drastically unnecessary it is outside of a legal proceeding. I've been asked several times if there are more than two genders. But I've often found that while the immediate answer in my head is yes, the more accurate answer is that I just don't fucking care how you define yourself. Just like with non-heteronormative marriages, I don't fucking care what you do. As long as there are two consenting adults in a relationship that feel the same way about things, then why is it anyone else's business?
I feel this way about my own wedding right now. I loved my own wedding. I loved being in jeans. I loved begging off work early that day just to make it down to the courthouse by 5pm. I loved meeting Brandon in the parking lot while he was in uniform. I certainly loved not having to pay the $75 fee because he's active duty.
But this judgment I'm receiving is making me angry. It's making me wish that I'd done something different, just so that I don't have to deal with it now. And that's ridiculous. I should be able to talk about my sexual assault, especially if I don't name anybody. I should be able to have my wedding how I want to have my wedding, especially if no one is invited. I should be able to define myself as a queer person but still, be allowed to marry a man (something that's also come up in my life; I must not be a real lesbian since occasionally I like men).
I am sick and tired of judgment outside of the legal system. Further, I'm sick and tired of judgment inside the legal system. I whine and complain about the judgment I get from the defenders of my attacker, from the family of my husband, and from people I once thought of as friends.
But, we have bigger problems. As a country, as a society, we have more problems than this. The fact that young POC men are more likely to be tried as adults than POC women, or than white children at all, is insane to me. The fact that Bill Cosby can be sent to prison in his 80s, but Brett Kavanaugh is confirmed to the Supreme Court, is just fucking insane to me. The fact that it wasn't until the 1980s in this country that the definition of rape expanded to husbands attacking their wives is just fucking crazy.
I'm angry, Malachi. I'm just angry. I'm angry about being judged for not having a wedding. I'm angry about everything else in our lives that takes him away from his family now being my fault. I'm angry that I I feel like I've lost touch with my queerness in a heterosexual relationship. I'm angry that life has always been scary for black men, but the world only pays attention now that it's a teeeeensy bit scary for white men (that have actually fucking done something). I'm angry that we turn around small Mexican children at the border, and force small children from other countries to defend themselves in immigration court (the youngest at TWO YEARS OLD). I'm angry that Roe v. Wade might be overturned.
I'm angry at all these judgments that people make every damn day, even when things don't affect them, even when they don't know the people they're judging. It's not that hard to love your neighbor. It's not that hard to refrain from judgment. It's not that hard to just keep your damn mouth closed if you think something you say might hurt someone else. It's just not.
With love and anger,
From Colorado,
Claire.
Turns out, my husband's family is very, very upset with us for not having a wedding. Even worse, they don't know that we got married six months before he told them we got married. Further, apparently, because he spent more time with Jim and Paula and the rest of my family last Christmas than he did with his own family, I'm a horrible person.
Turns out, the whole result of this is a judgment on me. I am apparently a bad influence, someone who is taking their son and grandson away from them (even though the military did that years ago.)
So, along with the harassment I've received from sharing my story of sexual assault online, it's been an exhausting few weeks for me.
But here's the ultimate thing: why does anyone care what I do with my own damn life?
I am grateful every day that we didn't have a wedding. For some people, that's a beautiful and touching moment, shared with friends and family, and often with some sort of god as well. I didn't want that. Brandon and I didn't want the stress, or the cost, my god, or having to deal with conflicting familial traditions. We didn't want to plan it from Colorado and have it in North Carolina, or have it in Colorado and have everyone we know fly to us. We just wanted it to be the two of us (and the judge), quietly and simply professing our love for each other on a Thursday afternoon in early January. We went to dinner afterward, got a bottle of bubbly, and bought rings two months later.
So, I'm thinking about judgment, and about how drastically unnecessary it is outside of a legal proceeding. I've been asked several times if there are more than two genders. But I've often found that while the immediate answer in my head is yes, the more accurate answer is that I just don't fucking care how you define yourself. Just like with non-heteronormative marriages, I don't fucking care what you do. As long as there are two consenting adults in a relationship that feel the same way about things, then why is it anyone else's business?
I feel this way about my own wedding right now. I loved my own wedding. I loved being in jeans. I loved begging off work early that day just to make it down to the courthouse by 5pm. I loved meeting Brandon in the parking lot while he was in uniform. I certainly loved not having to pay the $75 fee because he's active duty.
But this judgment I'm receiving is making me angry. It's making me wish that I'd done something different, just so that I don't have to deal with it now. And that's ridiculous. I should be able to talk about my sexual assault, especially if I don't name anybody. I should be able to have my wedding how I want to have my wedding, especially if no one is invited. I should be able to define myself as a queer person but still, be allowed to marry a man (something that's also come up in my life; I must not be a real lesbian since occasionally I like men).
I am sick and tired of judgment outside of the legal system. Further, I'm sick and tired of judgment inside the legal system. I whine and complain about the judgment I get from the defenders of my attacker, from the family of my husband, and from people I once thought of as friends.
But, we have bigger problems. As a country, as a society, we have more problems than this. The fact that young POC men are more likely to be tried as adults than POC women, or than white children at all, is insane to me. The fact that Bill Cosby can be sent to prison in his 80s, but Brett Kavanaugh is confirmed to the Supreme Court, is just fucking insane to me. The fact that it wasn't until the 1980s in this country that the definition of rape expanded to husbands attacking their wives is just fucking crazy.
I'm angry, Malachi. I'm just angry. I'm angry about being judged for not having a wedding. I'm angry about everything else in our lives that takes him away from his family now being my fault. I'm angry that I I feel like I've lost touch with my queerness in a heterosexual relationship. I'm angry that life has always been scary for black men, but the world only pays attention now that it's a teeeeensy bit scary for white men (that have actually fucking done something). I'm angry that we turn around small Mexican children at the border, and force small children from other countries to defend themselves in immigration court (the youngest at TWO YEARS OLD). I'm angry that Roe v. Wade might be overturned.
I'm angry at all these judgments that people make every damn day, even when things don't affect them, even when they don't know the people they're judging. It's not that hard to love your neighbor. It's not that hard to refrain from judgment. It's not that hard to just keep your damn mouth closed if you think something you say might hurt someone else. It's just not.
With love and anger,
From Colorado,
Claire.
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