Today was frustrating beyond belief for me. I’m very different from the people in my family, especially my dad. We agree not to talk about many things, but sometimes he just can’t help himself. The day began with the romantic comedy argument again, and in order to avoid getting upset, I just said that we should agree to disagree and that there’s something for everyone. The morning progressed without incident.
When we got to the country club at my grandparent’s place, my dad was unloading his golf clubs and I heard him say to my brother, “I mean, it’s like sex with Kobe Bryant. You can kick and scream all you want, but eventually it’s gonna happen.” Oooh, rape jokes! Funny! I didn’t say anything, because what am I going to say? “Hey dad, I was raped and don’t find making jokes about it very funny?” Not so much.
The car ride home found my dad in rare form. We had lesbian jokes (“You can always tell when they’re lesbians. You know how?” Mom told him not even to finish because she knew I was probably stewing in the back seat. But again, what do I say? “Hey dad, I’m gay and don’t appreciate dyke jokes?” Not so much). We had fat chick jokes. And we had my dad gasping and recoiling in horror at “the ugliest human being [he'd] ever seen in [his] life.”
The entire day was joke after joke about anyone (any woman) that was not desirable by patriarchal standards. And I’ve tried speaking up and saying that I’m offended or explaining why the jokes aren’t funny, but I’m deemed humorless, uptight, or overly sensitive. It’s not their fault for making tasteless, offensive, insensitive jokes. It’s my fault for being the angry feminist.
Sometimes I wonder where the hell I came from and how I ended up so different from my family.
I'm Britni, a snarky bitch and generally awesome person. I write about sex, love, and bullshit. If sex-positivity, discussions about BDSM and kink, queer issues, and topics that are completely inappropriate by society's standards make you uncomfortable, then this blog is not for you.
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8 Comments
Reading this reminds me of my father at times. I recall driving with him, my then 6 yr old son in the backseat, when a college-aged adult strolled into the cross-walk in front of us. Fine, he had right of way. But the way he strolled, taking his own sweet time, holding up traffic irritated me. So I made some comment to my dad about inconsiderate kids [yeah, I'm getting old, bitching about 'kids today'!].
His reply? "Yeah, just like the fuckin' niggers back home". I could have killed him. Never mind the overt racism, but to say such a thing in front of my young, impressionable son?
My son spends one week every summer with my dad, which they both love. After we got back to my house, I told my dad that if he ever uttered a remark like that again in front of either of my kids, he'd never get a week with them again.
You know what? He stopped. I haven't caught him uttering a racist remark once since.
Maybe confronting your dad isn't such a bad idea.
Two words: Move out.
Holidays will still be uncomfortable, but at least you won't have to deal with this shit on the daily. AND, maybe when you're not living under his roof, confronting your dad won't seem so impossible!
Ugh. Sounds like my family.
Kivrin, unfortunately, moving out is not an option right now. I'm a grad student with an unpaid internship. It's not financially possible at the moment, and probably won't be for a few years.
And for the most part, my parents (especially my mom) are great. And my dad is, too, we just have very different views of the world, which is why we don't speak about much of substance very often.
Yeah, my dad and brother-in-law and to a degree my sister are all pretty free with the nigger and spic comments. Dinner is a fine time for nigger talk as far as they're concerned. I can nip it in the bud by saying "Can you all save the racial slurs until after I'm gone?" They're not happy about it, but at least they have the decency to respect the request from the weirdo from California. Haven't told them I'm trans yet. One guess why.
Dana, probably for the same reason that I haven't told my family I'm queer. I hope that one day I'll feel like I can.
those kinds of comments come from a place of ignorance and fear. my sister-in-law's family are all brain washed bill o'reilly fans who had no problem throwing around the word "towel head" until they met my husband – an ethnic albanian (non-practicing) muslim. they have finally met the person they fear and he's not so bad. in fact, they kind of like him!
that said, i would really encourage you to share your experiences with your dad. he may think twice about making a rape joke or a lesbian joke knowing what his daughter has been through.
I usually just tell Republican jokes back until my relatives ears bleed, but thats me.