If you had asked me when I was eight. . .
I didn’t know that some people were attracted to people of the same sex, that some didn’t believe in God, or that there were anything but caucasian people. I suppose I had an inkling for the last one, afterall there was the Cosby Show, but it was so far outside of my accepted world that it was almost as if they were not real. As far as religion, I would have been excessively angry if you dared to question my beliefs. And I was probably still sad that all I had to look forward to in life was growing up to be a farmer’s wife.
If you had asked me when I was fifteen. . .
You would have found me an atheist, saddened that I was caucaian because of a strong sense of guilt, and no consideration of an individual’s sexual orientation, other than maybe an unspoken fear that I might someday be a lesbian.
If you had asked me when I was eighteen. . .
I likely would have asked what exactly two girls did together, been saddened that my daughter was fathered by a caucasian, and have probably said that I was an agnostic. At this point, I wished I was a lesbian so that I had an escape from the advances of men.
If you had asked me when I was twenty-two. . .
I would still have been saddened that I only knew caucasians, still been confused by same-sex sex--but finally had found sex to be (at least somewhat) fun, and would have been well on my way to my later spirituality.
If you had asked me when I was twenty-five. . .
If willing to admit anything, I probably would have said that I was asexual because I was never attracted to anyone, save that one I hated to admit to because he confused me, still would have said I did not believe in God while firmly within the sense of spirituality that I had found, and longed for a more diverse group of friends.
If you had asked me when I was thirty. . .
I might have admitted that I did not believe in organized religion or their God, have finally realized that I might really be attracted to men or women (and had long ago figured out what two people of the same sex would do together), and still longed for that more diverse group of friends.
If you asked me today, at thirty-five. . .
I probably wouldn’t tell you anything (something that I have long been prone to do anyways). But if I felt comfortable enough. . .I would finally acknowledge that I am not attracted to gender, meaning both men and women and neither, that I am jealous of Angelina Jolie’s family, and that I still don’t believe in their God, but that it’s okay because I have my own spirituality, a belief structure that finally makes sense to me.