A couple weeks ago, I was part of a 45-person song collaboration. In the video, I present as female and am credited under my girl name. The video came out, and I was real happy with the way the video came out. So I sent a newsletter to my mailing list, about the video. (I'm a musician and a performer and stuff). My uncle, who's a sweet, caring, funny, wonderful person, replied, addressing my name in quotes, with something to the effect of, "You're not a girl. If you want to be a woman, then change your last name back to your dad's name and grow a vagina."
Obviously, I was upset by this. I went into my (volunteer) job later that day and talked to my boss about it. She had some good insight and a suggestion on how to handle the situation. I later replied. I thanked my uncle for writing and told him that I was glad he liked the video, but what he said hurt my feelings a little.
My uncle felt so bad about it. He apologized and told me that he loves me no matter who I choose to be. That felt so good. He even called my mom to talk about how bad he felt about it. I feel like we're even closer because of this.
Right now I'm going through some hardships in my life. I'm broke, unemployed, and I'm losing my house. Despite all of this, so many friends, family, and people I volunteer with have been so loving and supportive of me, that it's brought me to tears. I feel so, so loved. Despite all of the hardships I'm going through, I've never felt more loved -- on Valentine's Day, no less!
I was explaining all of this to my mom on the phone tonight. When I mentioned the dialogue with my uncle, she told me she thought I overreacted to that. Feeling disowned and implied that I was some delusional freak, and calmly stating that my feelings were hurt a little -- and I overreacted. Then she accused me of mimicking somebody else's words. And then she asked in an accusing tone, why I had to share my personal life with people.
You can't argue with crazy, so I hung up the phone.
My mom can be so juvenile! Sometimes it's like she has the emotional development of a twelve year-old. What frightens me, is that I'm just like her. We're so similar! And she's just like my grandmother, who is an eighty year-old child. My grandmother is nothing like my great grandmother.