A few weekends ago, I went to the Air Show. For those of you who don’t know, it’s a huge production Davis Monthan Air Force Base puts on every so often where you get to go through the hassle of getting on and off the base and then look at some of the aircrafts America uses to defend the country and kill people.
I’m sure you’re gathering my sentiment by now. A party? Not so much. Now, don’t get me wrong, I feel blessed that I can fall asleep every evening without worry- now, that is national security for you in a nutshell. I believe the military is built upon good intentions, but has found corruption along the way.
Anyways, I get to the base and I happened to be walking around with my current boyfriend. That just felt awkward. Last time I was on the base, I was with my girlfriend. It wouldn’t be a big deal, except for the fact that being a lesbian, you are analyzed under a microscope constantly. I couldn’t imagine living there. And at first, I was embarrassed even wondering what people were thinking about my fluid sexuality.
Now, I realize I should have just cherished the moments I had with her, rather than getting caught up in the moment. Going back to the base with my current boyfriend- now that was embarrassing. I almost wanted to get up on a pedestal and announce that I am not straight, I’m not gay, and I’m sure as not bisexual damn it. I am whatever I am when I am it. Thank you, Andrea Gibson.
For some reason, I didn’t feel like I was expressing myself anymore. As if I had conformed to their utopia. Again, please don’t take offense to my military generalizations. I hadn’t conformed; I was being me in the moment.
Have you ever felt like that? Like you wanted to be the zebra in the crowd of horses screaming, “I am the infantile center of the goddamn universe!” Maybe I want that for attention. Or maybe I feel the need to express myself. But what I think it really is, is a form of rebellion. I
kinda want to shove it in their faces, that I am a wonderful individual and there should be a utopia where I am accepted holding the hand of a woman or man. And don’t ask me to define myself. I don’t fit into your box, nor will I ever. I want to take a stand and fight for the right to par-teh! I want a R[EVOL]TION. (do notice love in there.
Tony Ray Baker
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Tony Ray
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