epershand

I'm feeling extraordinarily lucky today. I was walking to the BART with J this afternoon after a FOGcon concom meeting (FOGcon2! OMG!) and she commented that she really loves having a situation in her life where being hetero and monogamous makes her the odd one out, and it made me think a little bit about the things I take for granted in my life and how incredibly lucky I am to have them. So, a partial list:

I have a birth family who love the parts of me that I choose to show them, and a chosen family that loves all of me. The time and place that I live in means that the parts of me that I can show my birth family include the relationship with the woman who has been the most important thing in my life for the majority of the last decade, even if they think that relationship is monogamous.

The entire time I have been out (which is to say, my entire adult life) I've been able to live in places where being queer is relatively mainstream.

My employer respects and honors my queer identity. My employer is actively doing work to help its queer employees internationally, even (especially) in countries where being queer is still illegal. Not only does my employer participate in gay pride marches around the world, but it takes decisive action in the world on behalf of its queer employees. For example, if I were in the legal status my home State affords me in lieu of marriage, my employer would rectify the taxation injustice done by the Federal government. On a lesser note, my employer is ok with my having pink hair.

In a very large subset of my social circle being queer is an unmarked category. In a smaller but still strikingly large, all things considered, subset of my social circle, being poly is an unmarked category.

And being *fannish* is an unmarked category.

I live in a time, and I live a privileged enough life, that my friendships and loves aren't constrained by geography. I can be in love (and in lust. and in limerence. and in friendship.) with people in multiple states, and even multiple *countries* without that breaking me. Most of my closest relationships are conducted almost entirely over the internet and the telephone, and I don't even *notice* that fact until someone else reminds me.

I have a community where I can discuss my sexuality, and my relationships, without being thought of as a freak. And where I can choose *not* to discuss my sexuality or my relationships without fear of them being invisible.

A lot of things aren't perfect. A lot of things aren't great, or even good. But I am so lucky I don't even know how to deal with it.