More Than I Can Chew

As in "Bitten off..."

I believe that one of the keys to happiness is to make your parents proud. I have not thrown that away lightly. But, as Uncle Derrick says, "You do not choose what you believe." What you believe is the sum of your experiences. As sure as the stove-top burns and the snow melts I could not choose to be the ideal daughter, Christian, whatever. No more so than I could travel back in time four years. Believe me, I've wished for both at times.

Now, I say daughter, Christian, whatever, because that mythic ideal remains hidden from me. I'm still not sure what I was trying to be for all of those years. Everyone kept moving the goal posts.

In 2004 I arrived at college, cheeks aglow, suitcase bursting with knee-length skirts and pantyhose. I sat in chapel and class with my mouth agape like a baby bird, ready for the regurgitation. I wanted Christian friends. Having gone to public school K-12 (this parenting decision was influenced by the checkbook, not the Good Book) I had gone too long bereft of kindred spirits.

But kindred spirits were not to be found. Was I as ingratiating as I thought I was? Did I communicate my love for God? My sincerity? My hunger for the lifelong connections you are supposed to make in college? Apparently not.

It wasn't that long into my freshman year that I was told by a "friend" that, rumor had it, I was a "dirty little girl out to get it from any guy." I'd never had sex, hell, never had so much as an ass-grab. I didn't have dirty condoms stuck to my shoes or semen on my face. I didn't open conversations with, "You look like a strapping fellow; fancy a roll in the hay?" or with pointed questions about things that may or may not be in pockets....

So, what the fuck?

Oh Kelly, everybody knows that if you touch someone's arm during a conversation, you take it in the ass.

Desperate to be accepted, looking for a home, and everyone was keeping score against me. Every word or motion that seemed natural to me was proof that I was spiritually or morally defunct. Behavior that would, at worst, get me called a flirt had gotten me the reputation of a semen-sucking-slut.

And that wasn't the half of it.

But the instances aren't worth enumerating, even if I could remember them all. I spent that night crying in my bunk bed so it's easily recalled. After that day I got tougher skin and was a lot more careful about who I talked to and how.

But I've gotten carried away! This isn't the point. The point is...

I didn't find God at Christian school. Christian communities are just as bad as any other place with too many people in too small a space and no ventilation. I'm a firm believer that there are no bad Christians, just bad people. (And vice versa.)

What I have found is that a homogeneous community is generally an unhealthy one. Diversity spurs growth and understanding. A bunch of home-schooled or Christian-schooled white kids tend to be pretty fucked up and intolerant. They fear what they don't understand, which is practically everything.

When we exclude alternative viewpoints as not only wrong, but corrupt and sinful, there's little world left to learn from.

I can't live with that.

See you tomorrow for the horror, the horror.

-KL