You've Got To Be Carefully Taught.

A couple days ago, as I sat in the waiting room of the dentist's office, I rolled my eyes and readjusted my position as two families of children came pouring inside, loud, rambunctious, and altogether way too excited to be at the dentist. There was an Asian woman who, mysteriously, had a blonde/blue-eyed son, about six, and a dark haired daughter who was probably four. Following them was an elderly Mexican man with a great shock of white hair and eyebrows, and a Looney Tunes-eyed boy and his sister, who were four and three respectively. (I know this because they told practically everyone in the room.)

As strange or unexpected as this may seem, the children found each other and began running crazily around the small room, screaming their heads off about nothing in general and jumping off the chairs, shouting "ka-pow!" and "ka-zam!" as they did. Eventually, they realized that Elmo's World was playing on the TV above their heads, so they stopped and turned their attention upward, laughing hysterically at things that were far from amusing.

I found myself thinking back on my childhood, when I would have found that very joke hilarious, and would not have realized the network's sly didacticism sneaking its way through the airwaves. I also would not have known what didacticism was, even if I had been aware of it.

A song started and the little girl grabbed her new female friend and they began to dance in the way that only small children can. Her brother was quick to pull his sister away and say, "Let's all dance! You dance with me and she can dance with him. Boy with girl." He put his arms where society taught him they were supposed to be. His sister pulled away: "No, I want to dance with her. You dance with him," and quickly reunited with her first partner. The blonde boy, clearly the oldest and wisest of the group, turned to the other boy, reached out his hands, and said simply, "Do you want to dance?"

Something in that moment made it very clear how our culture teaches us, as we grow up, that men dance with women and that's the only possible combination. We're not aware of same-sex couples (unless our parents are such) and, conversely, we're not aware that there is anything wrong with two men taking hands and shaking their groove thing. We only know what we are taught, and seeing this rendered the delicate nature of parenting all the more apparent to me, and made the importance of future parents teaching their children that there is nothing to be ashamed of just that - important.

A few weeks ago, Hunter and I were walking into the movie theater from the parking garage and a car sped by behind us as the man in the passenger seat shouted a homophobic epithet at us. We weren't holding hands, we weren't even close to each other. It was the first time that someone had ever said something like that to me, outside of a friendly jest, and it was the first time that I had realized that even when we're not touching in any way, it is still clear that we're a couple. Being gay isn't something that goes away depending on your action. It's something that sticks to you, that flies around the air, and, apparently, causes those who were taught that homosexuality is wrong to be disgusted by your having a conversation with the man you love. I was not offended at all, and it hasn't affected me in any way, insofar as I think about that man in the car and why he can't (or won't) realize that we're just like him...

Only smarter, nicer, and more attractive.