My sexual orientation is just another aspect of my life. I happen to be bisexual, but I’ve never had any kind of romantic or sexual relationship with anyone (unless you count 1st grade and flirting online). I’m involved in the gay pride group at my college, but that’s because I want to help dispell stereotypes, network with other GLBT folks (and the straight supporters in the group too), show my support, etc. Who I like isn’t a big part of who I am. I’m not fully “out of the closet,” because I believe it’s nobody’s business and I only tell people if they ask or they’re making homophobic comments and I want them to realize that they’re offending me. Sexual orientation is more important to some people than others, but to me it’s just as much a part of my life as my favorite movie or where I live.
As for homophobes and people who think homosexuality is wrong, I usually just ignore them. I don’t care if someone thinks it’s wrong as long as they don’t try to impose their beliefs on others or criticize GLBT people because of who they love. One of my best friends is a very conservative Christian, and while she makes it clear that she believes homosexuality is a sin (because the Bible says so), she doesn’t criticize me or anyone else because of sexual orientation. She’s into the “love the sinner, hate the sin” thing, and even though her beliefs are different from mine, she doesn’t think less of me because of how I am. She respects my right to love, and that’s what’s important to me. Sure, we debate controversial topics all the time, but we have so much fun together, I couldn’t bear to lose her as a friend.
I don’t think that it’s too ridiculous to dislike one aspect of somebody yet still like the person as a whole. None of my friends is perfect – I dislike the fact that one of them is a bit arrogant, the fact that another one is financially irresponsible, the fact that another one drinks too much, the fact that yet another one is agoraphobic and unwilling to do anything about his condition, etc. All of them are still good friends, though, since I’m able to overlook (what I consider to be) their foibles and I wind up liking them as a whole, and in turn they’re able to overlook (what they consider to be) my foibles and wind up liking me as a whole.
I live with a lesbian and a bisexual woman. Most of the people that I choose to spend time with are gay or bisexual. In my circle of friends, I’m the one who is referred to as “the straight girl”. I’m generally very aware that I’m the only person in the room not ogling over Christina Aguilera’s latest Rolling Stones cover. And so, I’d say it’s more central to my being in these situations than say, when I’m at a family gathering, surrounded by people who make my generally subversive (Thats right. In my circle, I’m the subversive one) sexual orientation seem quite run of the mill.
The same way that being 5’10" doesnt define you as a person unless everyone around you is 3’2".
Long story short, I’d say that it truly is our differences that defines us as a person and not any particular attribute (orientation/height/political leaning/etc).
It would have to be our differences that define a person. Why is this surprising? Oh, because for some reason there is so much pressure to fit in.
I’ll never understand. It’s ok to be different, so long as you’re not, you know, different. Like it is ok to use the word irony, so long as what you describe isn’t ironic. Only, that one is’nt quite as stupid.
“Yeah, that erl, he’s not… well, you know… like us.”
“What, he likes heavy chicks?”
“No, no, not that.”
“Young chicks?”
“Little stranger than that.”
“Old women?”
“One of those words is wrong in that last answer, and the other is irrelevent.”
“Well, of course, the ‘women’ must be irrelevent. I mean, that goes without saying.”
Whether or not one’s sexual orientation is “at the core of one’s being” (and I think Mr Visible’s post above adequately addresses what I’d need to say on that subject), the fact remains that being part of a minority, especially one discriminated against, is something that does indeed matter to the minority person in a way that those in the majority are hard pressed to understand.
Being black is a more important part of a black person’s existence than being white is for me, for the simple reason that he or she may at any time encounter some degree of discrimination (especially the silken “I’m not against blacks, but I’ve met a lot of them I can’t trust” or “why should they get any special privileges?” sort of prejudice). I would expect the same applies to someone who has had to live with the knowledge that if he or she admitted his or her sexuality, they were subject to anything from rejection to violence at the hands of others.
“All the lessons of psychiatry, psychology, social work, indeed culture, have taught us over the last hundred years that it is the acceptance of differences, not the search for similarities which enables people to relate to each other in their personal or family lives.”
The experience of being a minority has an effect on the narratives we construct about ourselves.
I did a (very) little qualitative study some time ago comparing responses to questions about self and identity with two participants, demographically similar except for sexual identity. The woman who identified as lesbian could answer all my questions (e.g., something like “How does your family view your sexual orientation?”) coherently, while the woman who identified as heterosexual generally had to start her answers with, “I don’t really know. I’ve never thought about that.”
I came out at 12. I can’t really separate my sense of being lesbian from my sense of being, since I was never really a self-aware person who thought she was straight. It’s fascinating to have a bisexual wife, who is able to compare and contrast her experiences with men and women and how these affect her sense of self and how others perceive and respond to her. It makes me a little envious, because I’ve just never had the experiences that would let me see myself in different ways around sexual identity, so in some ways I can’t answer the OP.
Interesting question. I would absolutely say that my sexual orientation is at the core of my person. It is a huge part of what I am. (heterosexual male) I think that the way I act and internally think are to a large degree “wired.”
Having said that, how I relate to another person’s sexual orientation is completely a non issue. I react to the person’s personality. I like nice people. I dislike jerks of all types.
Having said all of the above, I have to confess that when I am relating to some people, I do have their gender somewhere in my awareness…in particular women…there is something lurking just below the surface that keeps me aware. I don’t think I act differently in important ways because of this, but I may.
It is similar to being aware of a person’s skin color. Just there, not defining anything.