I used to have a car. The Evilmobile was a great car- a Ford Taurus station wagon. (Okay, it was great in my mind, if not in reality.) It died the summer after my senior year, so I have been car-deprived all through college. This is fine; I don’t really need one here, although they are convenient.
Yesterday my parents gave me an early inclination of my 21st birthday present- they’re going to give me my mother’s car.
This was unexpected. Happy dancing Andy.
So I start talking to my dad about some of the details, and I hear my mom in the background saying, “Honey, don’t forget to tell her…”
My dad then tells me that there are conditions. I sit down; I know this is going to go downhill quickly.
“You have to keep your grades up. And… um… your mother and I have talked, and we’ve decided that you can’t have the car unless you keep your… paraphenalia… off of it.”
They mean rainbow stickers, of course.
And it wasn’t “we think it’s a bad idea.” It was “you can’t have the car unless you do this, and if you do it we’ll take it back.”
God damn it, I am so disappointed. Not that I can’t queer up my car- I don’t care about that, I wasn’t planning on doing that- but that their attitude towards my lesbianism continues to be so hot and cold. Sometimes they want to march forth and change the world… and sometimes, far more often than I’d like, they’re okay with me being gay… but why do I have to be so gay? Why am I not more feminine/quiet/subdued/blah blah blah.
Mom, dad, you can’t just like some bits of me. I’m your kid, with or without a skirt and makeup.
I feel like I have four options.
-
Tell them to take the car and cram it.
problem: I would like a car; I can’t afford one on my own. -
Take the car and keep it sticker-free, which I would have done in the first place.
problem: my doing this should not be the condition behind the gift, and I don’t think it’s an option anymore. -
Make it as gay as possible.
problem: well, they’ll see it eventually. And then there’s the danger of vandalism. -
Get static cling stickers.
problem: it’s a cop out.
I wouldn’t have minded if they’d just said that they thought it was a bad idea to put a sticker on. But damn it, they didn’t have to do this. “Happy birthday, why can’t you be straight” isn’t the way.