Queer

So, I was having lunch with my daughter (now 18) recently, when she said, "Mom, I've decided to identify myself as queer." Confusion, on my part, followed by "Um, I don't think I know what that means anymore." She explained that it means quite a number of things now: questioning, asexual, other-than-straight, bi-sexual but not promiscuous, and other classifications that elude me now because my memory is weak. My response: relief. What can be more truthful or accurate than to define oneself as in-touch-but-not-ready-for-a-pigeonhole? I'm there myself.

At 57, I can say I've experienced a great deal of interpersonal something-or-others. I am interested in nearly everyone I meet, but haven't been sexually attracted to anyone in several years, following a hideously abusive relationship with a murdering fuckhead who took me in and fascinated me for quite some time when I was vulnerable and in love. I love many people, but am not in love with anyone. I don't especially care about this condition. I am happy with my life as it is--happier than I can remember being since childhood. At some point, happiness equates with autonomy, rather than hook-ups.

I look at my daughter's precious, unlined face and know she has a long road to travel before she will find resolution and peace with the person she is. I can't step in and change anything for her: she has to live the life given to her. But I support her right or choice or decision to call herself queer. Queer is okay with me.