Letters from the Lesbeyond
by Jennifer Schumaker

“I Can’t ‘Bear’ the Small Stuff this Valentine’s Day”

(“Letters from the Lesbeyond” is a column I wrote (for 2-1/2 years) for Update, Southern California’s oldest GLBT newspaper. This is one of the articles which chronicle my lesbian suburban pioneer adventure and reflections in the northern area of San Diego County, California. An earlier version of this article appeared in Update Issue #1157, February 26, 2004. Update closed it's doors in April 2006.)

Blushing Brides. Blushing Grooms. Blushing Valentine’s Bears from Hallmark, and blushing public officials whose never-ending debates over something as basic as equality are embarrassing. Well, they should be.

There is nothing but celebration in my heart at the recent marriages in San Francisco. Although we all know that there is hard work ahead, it is pure relief to have witnessed Mayor Gavin Newsom skip the rhetoric and do the right thing.

We all know that justice for LGBT people and our families is on the move, regardless of the red-faced struggles we have yet to endure. So we shall have our rights. We shall marry if we choose and pass our property on as we will. And we shall have rights concerning the life, death, health, and familial status of ourselves and our loved ones.

But let us not forget the small stuff. “As if,” my nine year old daughter would say. It is time to make ‘em blush when we are excluded from the smallest to the greatest participations in society.

I spoke recently in front of my suburban Unitarian Universalist congregation about some of the indignities endured by people who are LGBT. Having experienced my outness and outspokenness, some expected to hear about civil rights. But that was not my point that day. It was the “small” stuff:

--You and your partner are invited to a wedding with “dinner and dance to follow.” But will you two dance?

--You meet your girlfriend’s family for the first time and no nosy aunt bustles up to ask any of those questions like “So how did you two meet?”

--The conversation stops dead when everyone at the family holiday table is discussing their pets and you mention that your dog wedges between you in bed. You dared to bring up the bedroom arrangements without blushing.

--You want to buy cuddly love bears for your Valentine, but alas, they only come girl/boy. And this leads me to my latest pride pioneering episode here in the Lesbeyond.

I stopped at the Hallmark store at North County Faire Mall (suburban San Diego County) on Valentine’s Day morning. I have to admit that my gal would prefer a set of steel pipe clamps over some fluffy bears, but still I had to go. I grabbed a few of this year’s Valentine’s special creation, the Blushing Bears, to test the girl/girl, boy/boy action. But before I could even get to experimenting, I observed that not only are they sold only as hetero-bears, they are tethered to the opposite sex. How symbolic.

I held my breath and pressed a couple of the girl bears’ lips together. Nothing. Nada. Diddly-squat. No demure pinking of the cheeks like in those sentimental TV commercials. Ditto the poor little boy bears. I stepped up to the very busy counter and asked the teenaged male clerk if they had any bears that blushed when same sexed bears kissed. He said, “No, they are meant to attract each other.” No irony there.

I pressed on in my cheery, pushy way. “So if you are gay or lesbian, can you get bears that work with the appropriate gender?” “Uh, no, sorry…” he stammered and then repeated, “They are just meant to attract each other.” His face should have been turning colors by now, but still there was no recognition of irony.

I just couldn’t resist asking him, “Can you call another store? Do you think Hallmark sent some same-sex blushing bears to the store in (gay neighborhood) Hillcrest?” The poor kid took me seriously and somberly replied, “No…they’re all made the same.” There’s that irony again.

I said that we gay and lesbian people had a lot of big disappointments to deal with, and then there are these other little things that happened every single day. He apologized and I left. I don’t know whether he or the other clerk or the several patrons who were listening in got it. But at least I know they heard me as clearly as I heard the woman on the way to the escalator whip out her cell phone and start with, “You won’t believe what I just heard…”

Having done what I set out to do, I made for the mall exit when another set of cozy Valentine’s Bears beckoned to me from Kay Jewelers. At first glance they appeared rather unisex. But upon close inspection I discerned the longer eyelashes of the female bear. (Please –I too know many a gay male in drag with lashes more lush than mine. But this was the mall. In Escondido. Humor me.)

I stepped up to talk with Jerome who was “at my service.” Could they separate the bears for a gay or lesbian couple? His response was, “They only come this way.” (I’m going to stop mentioning the irony now.)

I prodded, friendly-like: “If someone gay or lesbian wanted the bears to reflect the appropriate gender, could you accommodate us?” Again, he replied, “Uh, no, they just come this way.”

“So, we can get married in San Francisco, but we can’t buy Valentine’s bears?” He perked up and offered, “You could buy two sets.” He had no answer when I replied, “Well, that doesn’t seem fair, now does it?”

On the way to the car, I wondered why Jerome didn’t just say, “Hey, we’ll throw in the extra set for free. And here, I’ve got some scissors to cut apart those girl/boy bears and make ‘em work for you.” I hope he did talk about it with the other clerk who was staring our way. I hope he talked about it with management.

Though my suburban shopping came up wanting, don’t worry. I was already set with a fabulous laser level and earrings to match for my sweetheart. Now if I can just propose on the Today Show, get us married wherever we want, and openly toast one another at a bachelorette party at a restaurant in East San Diego County --or rural Texas-- we’ll be all set.

My point is not that we want everything. It’s that we don’t want to be denied anything. Not the big stuff and not the small stuff. It’s time to ask for it all. Everywhere. All the time. With no more shackles of shame. When we are turned away unsatisfied, let us move on to seek the next opportunity, leaving those who will –someday-- get it, just blushing away behind us.