Spain is much more accepting of homosexuality if we compare it to North America. I have never, I repeat, never, physically come across anybody who had a problem with my lesbianism. And I am open about it, it’s not a secret. Of course you have the teenagers saying “that’s so gay” as a synonym to boring, ninnyhammer or uncool, as well as “accidental” homophobic comments, but us gays don’t usually have to hide much or fear we will be attacked because of our sexuality. It is a good idea to stay away from the older people who go to church though, just in case. This is Catalonia; I’m guessing the situation in Madrid and other places in Spain are different, by what I hear.
The thing is, in a few days a childhood friend of my sisters and me is coming over to visit us as he passes through a city nearby. We grew up in the same town in New Zealand, where everybody knew each other and talked happily. My parents sent us to Sunday school so we would learn a bit about religion, but I soon started questioning the existence of God when I realised I wasn’t forced to believe in one. This friend’s parents, however, were (are) very religious and I fear that I mustn’t say anything queer-related just in case the beliefs have passed onto his generation. Christians aren’t exactly known for their tolerance towards people like me.
Normally this wouldn’t be a problem; I keep my mouth shut and have him leave with the opinion that I am nothing but a funny intelligent beautiful nice girl –though I could improve on my modesty, it seems-. However, next week is Pride Barcelona and I intend to be on my best queer behaviour as it comes. Talking about Pride, I have no idea what I’m supposed to do, since it will be my first time assisting. I don’t even have a flag or a banner, for that matter. I hope they sell them around there somewhere.
I’ll have to test the waters before saying anything. Maybe his brother is also queer; us middle kids seem to be the ones who always bend societies norms (don’t trust me on this, it has not yet been proven that the second borns are the most likely “gay of the family”).
But there is another problem; I am not ashamed of who I am or who I’ve become. But I also love the past me that my friend knew. If he knows what I am now, if he finds out that I am ace, that I like girls and that I am genderqueer, the image of what I was before will be erased from his memory. And I don’t want that. I guess I have some serious issues when it comes down to letting go of the past, mainly because my life when I was seven is so radically different as it is now. I love both and want both, but now I have to choose one. Strangely enough, I have the same hairstyle as back then. Maybe that can help a bit.