Sometimes I worry that the league of mischievous homosexuals will revoke my membership. It is no secret that my relationship history is disproportionately composed of men. I have probably outraged a few dyed-in-the-wool womyn-loving-womyn librarians by claiming “Lesbrarian” as a name, when “Bisexual Librarian” would have been more accurate, or, more accurate yet, “Librarian Who is Bisexual Mainly in Theory Rather Than Practice.” I have sacrificed accuracy for a gosh-aren’t-I-clever pun.
Never one to settle for half-measures, I have decided now to flush accuracy completely down the drain. In another month the “librarian” part will no longer apply. I’m keeping the name, though. It was mine first.
My last day with my library will be October 10th. After that I will be a former librarian, or a has-been librarian (if you want to be mean about it) or a librarian between jobs (if you want to be optimistic about it).
I will be taking a job with a call center. I will be earning slightly too much income to qualify for food stamps. Right at the moment I’m feeling terrified, thanks for asking.
But it will be a change. It is not precisely the change I had in mind, but at this point I am willing to try anything, and there are some very good things that will come out of this, which might just possibly outweigh the drastic income drop and the perhaps fatal damage I’ll have done to my career.
I will be near my family. I will be in western North Carolina, near to Asheville, and every time I look out my window I will see heartbreaking natural beauty. More abstractly, I will be doing something for myself. It’s not an ideal course of action, but it is my course of action. Better to take the plunge than to continue as I have been.
So, okay, wonderful. I’ve made my dramatic gesture. I am at the climactic scene in my personal bildungsroman where through brute force of will I cast off my adversities and plunge, naked and raw and bleeding, into my newborn adulthood, snarling in inarticulate defiance at anyone who dare gainsay me. I am woman, hear me roar, et cetera.
So, um, North Carolina General Assembly? What the fuck are you thinking? Look, I am trying to make a life-affirming, personally-empowering statement here. I’ve got this lovely narrative constructed in which I will blossom forth from my cocoon, simultaneously realizing my potential as a unique and meaningful individual while rediscovering the mythos of home and hearth. I am trying to get my D. H. Lawrence on. So— and forgive my crudity here, but I am a little bit worked up– what is this shit?
The NC House has just passed this amendment:
“AN ACT TO AMEND THE CONSTITUTION TO PROVIDE THAT MARRIAGE BETWEEN ONE MAN AND ONE WOMAN IS THE ONLY DOMESTIC LEGAL UNION THAT SHALL BE VALID OR RECOGNIZED IN THIS STATE”
You can read insightful commentary here, but the key point is that this amendment, if passed, will deny the rights and privileges of civil unions– not just of gays, but of long-term hetero couples.
Hey, look. I care more about climate change and animal rights than I care about human rights. It’s a symptom of my misanthropy. Within the pantheon of human rights, I care more about class than I care about gender, sex, race, or sexual orientation. The right of people to marry is less important than the right of people to eat. Stopping child prostitution matters more to me than stopping this amendment.
But, General Assembly of the state I will soon again call home, why should this amendment matter to you? Don’t you have bigger fish to fry? I realize this amendment is motivated by bigotry and small minded-politics (or small-minded religion masquerading as politics), and I know I have no hope of enlightening you on those points, but can’t you spend your energy on more pressing issues? Go create jobs or something. I personally am looking for one in your state. A librarian job would be nice if you could swing it.