Part I
April turned out to be a
far more eventful month than I’d expected and even now I am still confused as
to who’s the fool …
One
unsuspecting afternoon while visiting a friend, her step father came home earlier than expected and
since we had not spoken up until that point, struck up a conversation. He asked
what I was doing with myself and all the usual questions to which I responded
in the usual way … school in September/Holland or England/gender, human rights,
advocacy. The conversation ended up being a lot longer than I’d anticipated and
John Doe a lot more eager to learn and know. We spoke of politics, various
administrations, the constitution, norms, homosexual rights, the whole gender
myriad and all its complexities. After a while I went outside for a smoke, my
usual hemp cocktail and threw the end away just as he walked outside. He was
going for a walk and I told him I used to take the same route in training with
my football team. This seemed to him quite amusing.
Later
on in the evening he returned and I was still there, helping his daughter do a
school project or rather doing her school project for her. Doe then proceeded
to call a family meeting, complete with mother and little sister. A more
accurate description than a family meeting is probably an interrogation and even
closer would be an opportunity for intimidation and accusation. He started off
by letting me know that he didn’t appreciate the way that I “lounged off” on
his sofa and he would appreciate it if I sat in an upright position. He then
said that if I came to help Jane Doe with her homework that we should sit on
the table and not the sofa. Then he said he knows FOR A FACT (an all of this is
in brief summary) that I was smoking marijuana on his compound and I should
desist from doing so. This was then followed by the motivating bomb of … “I am
under the impression that you are a lesbian and as such I would appreciate if
you did not spend time in my house with Jane D. unsupervised.” In an attempt to
respond to all of this I was told that I did not have an opportunity to do so because he didn’t ask any questions. That’s right asshole. You didn’t.
Despite
my valiant attempt to keep it all together and salvage whatever dignity I had
left I broke … into tears no less. I thought to myself WOW this is what a bad coming
out experience must feel like, except this dick was not my father and I was not a scared 16 year old. Through the tears I felt empowered
and grateful for having gone through the experience myself. Just a few days
prior I was telling someone how different it is to sympathize with someone or
an experience you have not had yourself versus the real deal. His response was
of course, “You don’t have to feel bad.” I laughed while shaking my head, as even
with understanding, I was still sorry I’d given him the satisfaction.
As
the night wore on I started to reflect on the day’s events and how Jane warned
me not to talk too much but I was confident that John D. was indeed responsive and
not as closed minded as she’d thought. Had I dug my own hole … set myself up to
be made a fool? It also occurred to me in that moment how calculated John D.
had been in our earlier conversation, egging me on, asking questions, all a part
of collecting ammunition to use on me later. I decided then that I was not a
fool and that the only thing I had been manipulated into was being myself.
In
the end John D. was the only fool. The fool that discusses where and how guests
are required to sit in his house and accuse them of using illegal substances, being
their step-daughter’s lover and that homosexuals require supervision.
