Hello. It is I: the frenchiest fry.
I am here though, which is something I have been unable to say for a mite. Life, it happens. Now we seem to be in a holy-daze what with the turkeys taking over our dining tables pretty soon. You know what that means!
Thanksgiving is often used as a forum by the elder members of a family to take part in qualms with the younger, more impressionable age. Often this turns into half-assed political tirades and the semi-annual lamentation on how the Millennial generation is “ruining ‘Murica”. These are things that happen. For me, Thanksgiving will likely devolve into *another* argument about how the Gender Spectrum™ does not exist (joy joy and jubilation). Granted, at this rate, I would argue for more of a Gender Continuum™, but they wouldn’t care, “it don’t exist”.
There’s something important we gotta remember during such arguments. Sometimes, we will find our whole beings absorbed by the argument that we fail to remember just who we are and what the hell we are even arguing about. We become so focused on being “the right” person that we forget the point of the matter. We forget just who we are because we argue about the validity of just one of our innumerable aspects.
We are more than the whole of the sum of our parts.
Yea, you hear that a lot, don’t you? That’s because it’s true, silly!
Sometimes, family members are gonna say something negative about one of your aspects that you may not be open about (like being a closeted “insert identity here”). Sometimes, families will find solidarity through an acquired allyship; people need allies. Good allies and not the shitty ones; they can go away somewhere else for all I care. Family can be one’s most vital ally or one’s worst nemesis. It won’t always work out that way (as those who may accidentally come out in a fit of rage might find out) but for those that it ends up working for, I’m glad for you. Only time shall tell.
So enjoy that turkey and try not being so salty. Be more gestalt-y.
The Enraged Enby.