The difference between a flower and a weed is a judgement. ~Unknown
Fascinating how the smallest piece of a morning ritual can actually start a blog post. I found that quote on the tag of my herbal tea bag this morning. I now drink several varieties in an attempt to convince my mind I don’t need my former cola of choice, since, thanks to my unique biochemistry and brain composition, three cans of that cola is equivalent to a regular person consuming about five cups of coffee a day. Not really a fact I enjoy, but I digress. I’ve also been fighting the topic of non-binary that’s been stuck in my head since I put fingertips to keyboard last week, and so no post has occurred. Not the best plan, I know, but c’est la vie.
And my goodness, I need to clean my desk.
Right now, let’s think about that quote. The difference between a flower
and a weed.
Both plants full of vibrant color. Both come into bloom and feed creatures like bees. Both dazzle children with their brilliance.
Yet one we nurture, care for, maintain, and try to keep the kids from plucking the buds off the bush. The other, we encourage them to pick or run over with a lawn mower, because well, it’s a weed. Odd that before we became obsessed with grass, gardeners would weed out grass to make room for the dandelions. They’d do this because nearly every part of a dandelion can be used for food at various stages of growth, down to the tube-like root.
I find it’s often the same with the people in our lives. We like our judgments, whether we made them yesterday or last decade, and we tend to stick to them, even when challenged by the coming along of something different. Even tougher to root out are the judgments we put on ourselves when we realize we are that “something different.”
In fact, take a look at this thistle.
I grew up with a bush of these in my grandfather’s flower garden. I don’t know if they were intentionally planted or not, but I know he kept them there, and every year, they bloomed fuchsia and purple, and beautiful. And they were different than every other flower in the garden, because those purple blossoms looked like a ball of spikes. I loved that. In Bumpa’s garden, the thistle was that something different.
This week, I realized that in this world, I am that something different as well.
Stop With the Labels!
Okay, hear me out. I already came out to the world as a transman with Out of the Closet and Into the Meme War, and now I’ve come to another realization. I do fit in that slim box that the “community” I’m defaulted into terms non-binary. I didn’t start this post intending to talk about this, but here we are, because it ties into judgement. See, I made one of those decades old judgments about myself. I could manage one or the other. I could manage to be just a woman. Then I thought I could manage to be just a man. Yet in the weeks since the move, and since my husband starting his new job, I’ve had many hours alone to reflect on my situation.
Part of the reason I didn’t want to claim the term? Well, just Google the phrase “define non-binary gender” and the first hit is a fantastically negative article by a site I won’t link to. Feel free to look it up if you’re curious, but get enough people angry, and then someone like me, who’s spent at least a decade learning not to be an angry person will avoid you and your site. So, no link.
On the other hand, I realized this. A question exists that no one has ever asked me, but I know the answer if I ever were to be asked.
Are you a boy or a girl?
Truthfully? My answer is both.
I know. That doesn’t even make sense to most trans-folk. It’s simple, within my belief system. I’ve got a physical body, a mind, and a spirit. My body is female, and my spirit is a woman. Mentally, I’m a man. So, I can honestly say, I’m both.
So I suppose in a way, this is another coming out, both to myself, and to you. Once I get this week’s Phoenix Unscripted up, I’ll add that to this post as well, since it’ll probably cover the same topic.
In the end, no matter what labels we use to make sense of the experiences we have here in mortal life, we’re all human beings, capable of incredible feats of love, compassion, and caring. Let’s reach out to those in our lives who may need the love we have to offer, and see what we can do to help.
That’s the first step in moving from Tolerance to Unity.
What are your thoughts? Ever realized something about yourself that you knew was unpopular in the grand scheme of current society? If you’re comfortable, share your story in the comments. After all, I love learning from the stories of others.