The postings on this site are my own and don't necessarily represent IBM's positions, strategies or opinions.
At Any Age
Pat and I watched "Ladies in Lavender" last night. I knew nothing about the film, and as I watched the initial scenes of Judi Dench and Maggie Smith strolling down the beach and then returning to the home they shared, I was hopeful that it was a lesbian story I'd never heard of. Bonus, I thought. Turns out -- spoiler alert! -- they fall for a young stranger who comes into their lives, and who is male. (Pat and I fell for the young stranger who comes into *his* life, Natascha McElhone)...but I digress.
Judi Dench's character moved me most, how she flushed and pined for the young man -- actually, that reminds me of how she flushed and pined for Cate Blanchett two years later, in "Notes on a Scandal."
I loved both movies and they're worlds apart -- two spinster-sisters in the '30s in Cornwall vs. a lesbian in denial in London in this century, and both reminded me that desire is irrational -- is arational a word? -- and in the case of "Ladies in Lavender," love is a life-force bigger than any. As I sat there, watching -- another spoiler alert! -- Judi Dench's reaction to the young man's unexpected and sudden departure, I thought, I'm not in love with our cats, like she was with the boy, but that's how I would feel if either of them disappeared at this point. Love is powerful. Any type of love.
Showing posts with label mysterious love. Show all posts
Showing posts with label mysterious love. Show all posts
Saturday, June 13, 2009
Sunday, September 21, 2008
Three People Who Demonstrated...
The postings on this site are my own and don't necessarily represent IBM's positions, strategies or opinions.
...that Bodies Really are Secondary
This posting was going to be about how I needed to be more consciously inclusive of bisexual people because I had my consciousness raised at the recent Out & Equal Workplace Summit and had been wanting to write about the workshop, where it happened, but that posting-theme has been hijacked by even more pressing thoughts -- thoughts that were cousins, I guess, of some bisexuals' struggles to be understood, but not twins:
Bodies as Objects to Transcend
The brilliant Riva Lehrer's latest exhibit and accompanying book were the most amazing demo of her art yet! Riva's writing knocked me out as much as her visual art. In "Totems and Familiars," which went with the exhibit, she wrote:
Just a couple of hours prior to seeing Riva's artful words and images, I had posted the following at the new Transworkplace network:
The First Person
So I, myself, was the first person to whom I was referring, who has managed to some degree to demonstrate that bodies are secondary, i.e., a lesbian woman loves me and finds me attractive, which is a sign of success, since I'm also lesbian, and I'm relatively successful in my career as well, no matter my gender-ambiguity.
The Second Person
Riva's narrative reminded me that she was the second person. For a short time, when I lived in Chicago, more than 17 years ago, Riva and I had had a romantic relationship. It had ended naturally and fairly swiftly because maybe both of us had romance-ADD back then.
When Riva and I met in New York this past spring, I was feeling a bit guilty that Pat was not with me; I hadn't predicted that I would feel that way. I thought that our quick time together was ancient history and I didn't bargain for any desire to make new history with Riva.
That was my short-sightedness, as it turned out. I did not tell Riva how I was feeling at the time because I did not wish to betray Pat, and it was a lovely dinner with marvelous conversation, but the evening would have turned ugly, if I had tried to realize any of my amorous thoughts, since not only was I not sure that Riva felt the same way, and not only did she already have a partner herself, but also, the deal I had with Pat was that we were monogamous -- and had been so for 16 years so far, and planned to be till either one's death...and probably past then, even.
What being with Riva reminded me, though, was that people's brains are primary, and their bodies, secondary, as Riva's body is affected by scoliosis, and is not average...and then, as I wrote above, neither is my body average. What is average?
The Third Person
In a Talmud class that I took at my synagogue a number of years ago, one of my classmates was a transwoman. She was the smartest, most interesting and most endearing person in the whole course, including the teacher. One night, I gave her a ride home after class. She was so, so appealing as we drove and then parked to talk a bit more in front of the brownstone, where she lived. I found myself wishing I didn't have to say goodbye to her. Again, I felt guilty, as I was already partnered with Pat, and I did say goodbye and nothing un-kosher ever happened between us. I don't know if she felt the same way and of course, I never checked. She's now blissfully married to another woman in our congregation.
While driving home, I remember that I felt really wistful because it hit me that my classmate still had her male genitals and it was during the time that I was trying to get pregnant by IUI, using an anonymous donor's sperm. Ugh, I could probably get pregnant more easily if only she and I were free for her to impregnate me, I remember feeling.
Really, doesn't this make the case for bisexuality? Or for the wider-than-conventionally-realized human capacity for love and desire? Maybe I don't need to write that posting on bisexuality afterall. Why not just acknowledge that all of us have the capacity to be attracted to anyone who's attractive for whatever reason he or she is attractive -- and in my case, the reason has always been any person's dazzling brain even more than any person's dazzling body.
...that Bodies Really are Secondary
This posting was going to be about how I needed to be more consciously inclusive of bisexual people because I had my consciousness raised at the recent Out & Equal Workplace Summit and had been wanting to write about the workshop, where it happened, but that posting-theme has been hijacked by even more pressing thoughts -- thoughts that were cousins, I guess, of some bisexuals' struggles to be understood, but not twins:
Bodies as Objects to Transcend
The brilliant Riva Lehrer's latest exhibit and accompanying book were the most amazing demo of her art yet! Riva's writing knocked me out as much as her visual art. In "Totems and Familiars," which went with the exhibit, she wrote:
...if one inhabits a socially challenged body, it virtually guarantees a struggle between the seeming of appearance and the truth of the self. The visibly 'different' person must develop inner resources in order to survive.
Just a couple of hours prior to seeing Riva's artful words and images, I had posted the following at the new Transworkplace network:
From my experience, the top factors in my success or lack of in the workplace have been my:
- Skills
- Reputation
- Appearance
- Enthusiasm
- Sense of humor.
These factors seem obvious, and I want to give an example re: appearance: I'll never be the cute, small, curvaceous type of woman that makes some conventional men most comfortable to work with. Instead, I'm tall, with a gender-ambiguous voice, features and energy, and a number of transwomen have assumed I'm post-op (I'm not, but rather, have always been just over the border of female) and so I try to have a winning personality that people want to be around, since I know that most people are afraid of ambiguity. That strategy has served me well so far....
The First Person
So I, myself, was the first person to whom I was referring, who has managed to some degree to demonstrate that bodies are secondary, i.e., a lesbian woman loves me and finds me attractive, which is a sign of success, since I'm also lesbian, and I'm relatively successful in my career as well, no matter my gender-ambiguity.
The Second Person
Riva's narrative reminded me that she was the second person. For a short time, when I lived in Chicago, more than 17 years ago, Riva and I had had a romantic relationship. It had ended naturally and fairly swiftly because maybe both of us had romance-ADD back then.
When Riva and I met in New York this past spring, I was feeling a bit guilty that Pat was not with me; I hadn't predicted that I would feel that way. I thought that our quick time together was ancient history and I didn't bargain for any desire to make new history with Riva.
That was my short-sightedness, as it turned out. I did not tell Riva how I was feeling at the time because I did not wish to betray Pat, and it was a lovely dinner with marvelous conversation, but the evening would have turned ugly, if I had tried to realize any of my amorous thoughts, since not only was I not sure that Riva felt the same way, and not only did she already have a partner herself, but also, the deal I had with Pat was that we were monogamous -- and had been so for 16 years so far, and planned to be till either one's death...and probably past then, even.
What being with Riva reminded me, though, was that people's brains are primary, and their bodies, secondary, as Riva's body is affected by scoliosis, and is not average...and then, as I wrote above, neither is my body average. What is average?
The Third Person
In a Talmud class that I took at my synagogue a number of years ago, one of my classmates was a transwoman. She was the smartest, most interesting and most endearing person in the whole course, including the teacher. One night, I gave her a ride home after class. She was so, so appealing as we drove and then parked to talk a bit more in front of the brownstone, where she lived. I found myself wishing I didn't have to say goodbye to her. Again, I felt guilty, as I was already partnered with Pat, and I did say goodbye and nothing un-kosher ever happened between us. I don't know if she felt the same way and of course, I never checked. She's now blissfully married to another woman in our congregation.
While driving home, I remember that I felt really wistful because it hit me that my classmate still had her male genitals and it was during the time that I was trying to get pregnant by IUI, using an anonymous donor's sperm. Ugh, I could probably get pregnant more easily if only she and I were free for her to impregnate me, I remember feeling.
Really, doesn't this make the case for bisexuality? Or for the wider-than-conventionally-realized human capacity for love and desire? Maybe I don't need to write that posting on bisexuality afterall. Why not just acknowledge that all of us have the capacity to be attracted to anyone who's attractive for whatever reason he or she is attractive -- and in my case, the reason has always been any person's dazzling brain even more than any person's dazzling body.
Saturday, January 26, 2008
Lift Every Face...
The postings on this site are my own and don't necessarily represent IBM's positions, strategies or opinions.
Twelve Women on Tu B'shvat
Last Tuesday with my mother and 10 other women at the seder table in a private home in Pound Ridge, the host said, "It's great to see some new faces here."
"Who had a face-lift?" asked my mom, smiling.
I laughed hard, but no one else did.
That night was the one-month anniversary of Pat's and my return from India and I felt both more at home and more reverse-culture shock than at any other time since our arrival back in the States. Pat opted to hear Jack Cafferty interviewed by Sue Simmons at the 92nd Street Y, and so it was just my mom and me with 10 of our Hadassah chapter co-members.
The At-home Part
It was like being seven years old again. The chapter started in 1972 and sometimes I accompanied my mom at meetings, parking on the floor in a corner of the host's living room and playing with the contents of my red, plastic, Lego attache case. I don't recall the content of the meetings -- just how beautiful and/or glamorous several of the women were, including a number, who were there on Tuesday.
One of them had zero recollection of me, I could tell, when I exclaimed upon her arrival, "Mrs. Cohen [not her real name]!"
The other greeted me with, "You look great, really! And I wanted to ask after your partner...Pat. How is she doing?" (She has never met Pat, and hasn't seen me since my childhood, but I know she meant to be inclusive.)
When Pat and I decided to follow my mom's example, becoming life-members of Hadassah, we joined my mother's chapter, figuring we'd never go to any of the meetings, and so what did it matter that it was the Northern Westchester chapter (even though we lived in New Jersey)? We never aspired to go to meetings because we felt we'd be the only lesbian couple, participating, and that it would feel awkward for us, if not the other members.
The Tu B'shvat seder event, though, was a way to see my mom after work and before the semester started.
The Reverse-culture-shock Part
Just a month earlier, Pat and I were an absolute island unto ourselves of metro-New York, Jewish, suburban women, and that night by contrast was an embarrassment of riches. And the only privileged homes I had visited in the past six months were those of Indians, and looked nothing like this house in Pound Ridge, which looked and smelled completely like the homes I had gotten to visit, growing up, but which was overly-familiar compared to Bangalore, and so I felt a bit thrown off by, and mistrustful of, the ease of it.
Before we could get to the universally-appealing part of the evening -- the eating and singing -- there was fund-raising business that the host needed to attend to:
"Our quota has been increased by a lot this year and there are a number of great, upcoming events...dinner and a show for $100, and you don't have to go into New York and pay parking!" And then another opportunity for $36:
The brochure read: "The Westchester Region of Hadassah [the whole region and not my mom's chapter per se] invites you to join our Quest for Sex-cess, featuring Dr. Silkaly 'Lovey' Wolchok, expert sex therapist. Find out everything you always wanted to know about sex...ual health and well-being but were afraid to ask! It'll be a fun-tastic evening! Hope you'll be there..."
My mother said quietly, "Thank God," as the host read the description aloud to the group, and again, only I laughed. More culture shock: There was no way that I could imagine a typical women's organization in India, putting together such an event.
At home later, I handed the brochure to Pat and said, "Let's go!"
We smiled at each other and then I said, "If they considered that some of their members were lesbians, would they have offered such a program? Could you imagine? Never....We should go!"
Invisible or Mysterious Love Beat Bad or No Love
At the table while we were eating almonds, one of the traditional foods of the holiday, I mentioned to the resident Hadassah staffperson how I really wished that Hadassah would send just one magazine to our home each month, addressed to both of us, rather than two, addressed separately.
She said that she had already called the New York office and that they said they couldn't fix the computer-generated lists, and besides, it wasn't that expensive to send two.
Another member, who was listening said, "My daughter [who lives with the member] and I get two, too, and they just can't seem to fix it, but it's all right."
"How would you feel if your husband and you received separate mailings from an organization that both of you belonged to?"
"We do. We belong to a computer society and it just comes to us twice."
OK. Maybe my shoulder-chip didn't need to be quite so big. I let it go...and then I also remembered the initial moments of the seder, while everyone was still talking around the table.
People were bragging about dishes they liked to cook and I offered to the woman across from me, "My partner's the cook in our family."
A woman to my left said, "My nephew and his partner of 25 years are going to have a ceremony."
"That's great; my partner and I have been together for 15 years," I said, hoping she wouldn't ask if we had had "a ceremony," too.
Instead, she responded, "I don't really know what it will entail...." perhaps hoping that I could provide a sneak preview for her. I had no idea what it would entail either. She meant well, but ought to have kept that statement as a thought just inside her own head.
Finally, we got down to business: reading and singing from a photocopied, scripted liturgy, which helped us celebrate the holiday of the new year for trees; in Israel, springtime is beginning soon.
A number of us also spoke of the significance of trees in our lives, including one member, who told us how she included branches from a crab-apple tree for her daughter's chuppah (marriage canopy); neighbors had given them the tree when she was born, since she was a girl, and the tree's blossoms would be pink. "Too bad the marriage didn't last...." she said dolefully.
As my mom and I were leaving, Mrs. Cohen (not her real name) hugged me warmly, as though she had remembered me during the evening and now felt affection for me. I asked if she was a grandmother yet.
"No, my girls don't have anyone."
I reassured her: "Don't you read 'The New York Times' wedding announcements every week? I do and for the past decade or longer, I've noticed that the ages are about 10 years older on average than they used to be."
While driving home, I thought of my gratitude for Pat, so that my mother didn't need to say, "She doesn't have anyone."
Twelve Women on Tu B'shvat
Last Tuesday with my mother and 10 other women at the seder table in a private home in Pound Ridge, the host said, "It's great to see some new faces here."
"Who had a face-lift?" asked my mom, smiling.
I laughed hard, but no one else did.
That night was the one-month anniversary of Pat's and my return from India and I felt both more at home and more reverse-culture shock than at any other time since our arrival back in the States. Pat opted to hear Jack Cafferty interviewed by Sue Simmons at the 92nd Street Y, and so it was just my mom and me with 10 of our Hadassah chapter co-members.
The At-home Part
It was like being seven years old again. The chapter started in 1972 and sometimes I accompanied my mom at meetings, parking on the floor in a corner of the host's living room and playing with the contents of my red, plastic, Lego attache case. I don't recall the content of the meetings -- just how beautiful and/or glamorous several of the women were, including a number, who were there on Tuesday.
One of them had zero recollection of me, I could tell, when I exclaimed upon her arrival, "Mrs. Cohen [not her real name]!"
The other greeted me with, "You look great, really! And I wanted to ask after your partner...Pat. How is she doing?" (She has never met Pat, and hasn't seen me since my childhood, but I know she meant to be inclusive.)
When Pat and I decided to follow my mom's example, becoming life-members of Hadassah, we joined my mother's chapter, figuring we'd never go to any of the meetings, and so what did it matter that it was the Northern Westchester chapter (even though we lived in New Jersey)? We never aspired to go to meetings because we felt we'd be the only lesbian couple, participating, and that it would feel awkward for us, if not the other members.
The Tu B'shvat seder event, though, was a way to see my mom after work and before the semester started.
The Reverse-culture-shock Part
Just a month earlier, Pat and I were an absolute island unto ourselves of metro-New York, Jewish, suburban women, and that night by contrast was an embarrassment of riches. And the only privileged homes I had visited in the past six months were those of Indians, and looked nothing like this house in Pound Ridge, which looked and smelled completely like the homes I had gotten to visit, growing up, but which was overly-familiar compared to Bangalore, and so I felt a bit thrown off by, and mistrustful of, the ease of it.
Before we could get to the universally-appealing part of the evening -- the eating and singing -- there was fund-raising business that the host needed to attend to:
"Our quota has been increased by a lot this year and there are a number of great, upcoming events...dinner and a show for $100, and you don't have to go into New York and pay parking!" And then another opportunity for $36:
The brochure read: "The Westchester Region of Hadassah [the whole region and not my mom's chapter per se] invites you to join our Quest for Sex-cess, featuring Dr. Silkaly 'Lovey' Wolchok, expert sex therapist. Find out everything you always wanted to know about sex...ual health and well-being but were afraid to ask! It'll be a fun-tastic evening! Hope you'll be there..."
My mother said quietly, "Thank God," as the host read the description aloud to the group, and again, only I laughed. More culture shock: There was no way that I could imagine a typical women's organization in India, putting together such an event.
At home later, I handed the brochure to Pat and said, "Let's go!"
We smiled at each other and then I said, "If they considered that some of their members were lesbians, would they have offered such a program? Could you imagine? Never....We should go!"
Invisible or Mysterious Love Beat Bad or No Love
At the table while we were eating almonds, one of the traditional foods of the holiday, I mentioned to the resident Hadassah staffperson how I really wished that Hadassah would send just one magazine to our home each month, addressed to both of us, rather than two, addressed separately.
She said that she had already called the New York office and that they said they couldn't fix the computer-generated lists, and besides, it wasn't that expensive to send two.
Another member, who was listening said, "My daughter [who lives with the member] and I get two, too, and they just can't seem to fix it, but it's all right."
"How would you feel if your husband and you received separate mailings from an organization that both of you belonged to?"
"We do. We belong to a computer society and it just comes to us twice."
OK. Maybe my shoulder-chip didn't need to be quite so big. I let it go...and then I also remembered the initial moments of the seder, while everyone was still talking around the table.
People were bragging about dishes they liked to cook and I offered to the woman across from me, "My partner's the cook in our family."
A woman to my left said, "My nephew and his partner of 25 years are going to have a ceremony."
"That's great; my partner and I have been together for 15 years," I said, hoping she wouldn't ask if we had had "a ceremony," too.
Instead, she responded, "I don't really know what it will entail...." perhaps hoping that I could provide a sneak preview for her. I had no idea what it would entail either. She meant well, but ought to have kept that statement as a thought just inside her own head.
Finally, we got down to business: reading and singing from a photocopied, scripted liturgy, which helped us celebrate the holiday of the new year for trees; in Israel, springtime is beginning soon.
A number of us also spoke of the significance of trees in our lives, including one member, who told us how she included branches from a crab-apple tree for her daughter's chuppah (marriage canopy); neighbors had given them the tree when she was born, since she was a girl, and the tree's blossoms would be pink. "Too bad the marriage didn't last...." she said dolefully.
As my mom and I were leaving, Mrs. Cohen (not her real name) hugged me warmly, as though she had remembered me during the evening and now felt affection for me. I asked if she was a grandmother yet.
"No, my girls don't have anyone."
I reassured her: "Don't you read 'The New York Times' wedding announcements every week? I do and for the past decade or longer, I've noticed that the ages are about 10 years older on average than they used to be."
While driving home, I thought of my gratitude for Pat, so that my mother didn't need to say, "She doesn't have anyone."
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