Once ‘married with kids’ stopped being the only idea of adulthood I knew (c. 7yrs old) it stopped being the kind of adulthood that would ever happen to me.
Pretty early on, way back before I gave a damn about sexuality I was sure that I’d never be a housewife and not much after that I knew I’d never be like my mum.
[Insert stuff and things – to be considered later(?)]
I was 15 before I ever heard of being bisexual (no I don’t know why it took so long – yes I even read porn mags without twigging..) and so for many years I believed I had to choose. Boobs or cock. Babies or dildos. Shaved head or shaved pussy.
I faked some interest in boys (I like older, macho, hairy Men – not footballers and Leo diCaprio) but could never commit and I just knew that only proper heteros got married and had children. Gay marriage was but a twinkle in an activists eye and besides which who would inflict that kind of lifestyle and bullying on any child. Even if I gave up my inclinations towards women, perhaps I would be too feminist, too career-oriented and selfish to dedicate my time to a child. A quasi-lesbian, semi-feminist? I would be a BAD mother.
Even without a commitment to a bisexual poly life, I had planned my funeral long before a wedding – no disney romance, no white lace and church for me and all in all the message was if you can’t be a good wife you can’t be a good mother – and queer folk ain’t good for marriage…
But married I am. and happy no less.
Lesbians with kids aren’t big news any more, whole functioning adults exist who not only grew up with gay parents but weren’t even in a media storm because of it.
I am 7 again and kids are back on the table and I don’t know how that feels.