PERSONAL: The Ones Reserved as Family

In the pantheon of human experience, no greater compliment or judgement rests with the naming of one as "family." What makes to one the other poses a quagmire of possibilities, limitations, grudges, and allowances. The bog of familial ties stinks of forgiveness and treason. For this reason alone, no single set of elements may be used to prejudge to whom the blessings or curses of family are bestowed. (Just ask the Hatfields, McCoys, Hitlers, Rockefellers, and Kennedys about that.)

My own family consists of a small, tightly-considered clan of individuals, the majority of whom exist within the confines of Northeast Mississippi. My father's family exists in the foreign patches of south Florida. My mother's kith and kin consist of a myriad of cousins but only three children. Two of these, a brother and sister, live singular lives in their sixties. My mother's offspring are gay, married with an exceptional child, and an exceptional child. I am the gay one.



Family to me should consist of these previous individuals, no matter the measure of their support of me. Yet, the single brother and sister of my mother alienated me from their support, and my father's family suggest only a distant happenstance of kinship. Also, I am to embrace the family of my partner. His, much larger, family is comprised of many and many a multitude of cousins, nieces, nephews, et cetera. I consider some them family members despite the hierarchical differences. But, in this, I also find myself diametrically opposed (maybe jealous) to their positions of oneness.

Lest it be mistaken as less, their's, my partner's family's love, is a deep, perhaps enviable love for one another. Yet, as a relative newcomer to their fold, I view it as often divisive and exclusionary. Certain members of the family - related by blood, who happen to be gay - are accepted. Other, more worldly members of the family, discover themselves the subject of ridicule and prejudice. While, others and I, the additions, are considered usurpers to the familial heritage, we find ourselves inextricably drawn to the "common good" of the whole. Yet essentially, we are the perverse influences which poison the potential of our family's future.

I have little time for umbrage. I am familiar with offense at all levels, and the hostility of my partner's family makes no difference in the long run. Yet, I love many of them dearly and completely- even those who would least love me. I scarcely find this disturbing or contradictory. In the end, I find it the fulfillment of a greater, esoteric challenge: to be the change (love) I hope to see in the world.

But when push comes to shove, family, I believe, consists of who we adopt unto our own bosom. My partner or my own's "blood relations" will only be considered family so long as they embrace each of us. Few, but notable, individuals earned a previous and endearing place in my heart as "family." I can only hope that those who bear the traditional "right" earn the same.