I’ve been thinking about love lately. Well…romantic love to be specific. There are many kinds of love. Love of friends and family. Love of found family. Love of community. Love of self. But my mind has been thinking most recently about romantic love.
I’ve been single now for around a year and a half. I don’t regret a moment of it. Being single has brought me blessing after blessing. It has allowed me to dissect myself, pull the most intimate parts of myself into the light for examination, and put it all back together. It has allowed me to find passions and hobbies and curiosities. Allowed me to evaluate my role in my own world and the world of others. I don’t regret being single and believe it is an essential part of self growth.
But recently I’ve reached a point in my life where I feel whole in myself and would like to invite someone into my wholeness. Not to fix or complete me, but to add to my experience as a little human on this enormous rock.
So, I’ve started being open to whatever might wander my way, but as I’ve done this, I’ve developed this overwhelming feeling of all consuming guilt. Great.
Now guilt and love often go hand in hand for me. It does for a lot of us I think, but this guilt was different.
As you know, the world (especially the U.S.) is ablaze. We’ve got people of color disappearing left and right, our environment and efforts to protect it are being gutted, our queer communities are losing their footing, our lower income friends and families are deciding between food and their medications, science is out and conspiracy theories are in, and our education system is crumbling before our eyes. It’s not all doom and gloom but it’s pretty… disheartening?
And being in the midst of it all… well it makes something so simple as wanting to go on a date seem rather trivial and a bit selfish. I find myself asking if I have the right to go hold hands on a ferris wheel while three blocks away a pro-Palestine classmate is being violently beaten by her professor? Do I deserve to throw popcorn and M&M’s in the air and try to catch them in my mouth if my queer bestie just watched a storm of homophobes burn her pride flag? Is it ok for me to tour museums and art galleries finding the most absurd paintings and giggling as I say “look it’s you” while my professors are doxxed for supporting their students? Am I allowed the trivial in a moment so vital?
This question has circulated my head and my heart for months and finally I think I have an answer.
I am a queer, non-binary, pagan, neurodivergent individual living in a political and social climate that wakes each and every day with the intent to kill my hope, my dreams, my beliefs, and my being. I am living under an administration that has erased my existence, deemed me a “pervert” and a “heretic,” and labeled me as a “danger” to society.
Yes. Me and my pile of stuffed animals and obsession with Bluey. A danger, a menace, a heretic, a pervert. And all because I find love in all people and all genders. Because I find human beings so beautiful and complex that their gender seems trivial in my eyes. Because I fall in love with the spirit not the body. Because I believe that the spirit is free from an angry God. Because I believe the spirit is one with its surroundings and that those surroundings must be protected. Because I see myself as part of those surroundings. So intimately connected with the earth that the label “female” or “male” cannot summarize my entire being. Because these man-made labels can’t contain my spirit. Because my spirit struggles with this reality. Because I need help navigating my surroundings and coping with the onslaught of noise, information, and tension. Because I need extra time to breathe and process and connect. It is because of all of this that I am a threat. A threat that must be eliminated at all costs. At least in their eyes.
I wake each and every day to fight for my existence. And I’m not the only one. My fight isn’t even the hardest fight out there…I still hold positions of power that allow me respite. Some don’t even have that.
But each and every day is a battle whether that be with myself or the world. And the very goal of the enemy side is to destroy the trivial joys of my life. To rob me and my community at large of light and love and celebration. So to answer my own question…yes. At this moment, I am allowed something so trivial as a date in the park. As an adventure on a ferris wheel. As a popcorn throwing competition. As a museum date where the ugly duck painted on the wall is you and the dog with six heads is me. I am allowed these things because they don’t want me to have them.
Because by existing and creating these moments of peace, of puppy love, of silly giggles, light touch, and gentle teasing, I am refusing to give up the very thing they want me to sacrifice. My innocence, my joy, and my spirit. I am reminding them and myself that I am not a danger, a menace, a heretic, or a pervert. I am a goofy, romantic, joyful human being who wants to give as much love as they receive. I am reminding them of my humanity, forcing them to look at me not as an animal to be beat into submission but as a human being filled with empathy and desire. I am dismantling their illusion, forcing them to reckon with the truth: that I am you and you are me. We are both humans on a spinning rock just trying to find connection, compassion, and community.
So yes. I am allowed the trivial. I am allowed to fall in love.