Essayist and columnist Sam Guzman responds to President Obama’s decision to no longer defend section 3 of the Defense of Marriage Act with the claim that marriage is and always has been a divine establishment and the government is interfering in a strictly religious institution, trying to replace the role of God. I disagree with this view and find his claims about what marriage is and about those who are not opposed to this decision to be presumptuous and inaccurate.

The claim that marriage has always been strictly a religious institution is one that I find to be inaccurate because historically it has been a matter of economics and bloodlines. If anything, marriage seems to be more of a legal than a religious matter. It is the ceremony that is religious, not the marriage itself.

 

This matters because it’s an issue of discrimination against certain types of people. Throughout the history of America there has always been inequality between people in some form and I believe that this is another obstacle that needs to be overcome. It is of concern to the gay community, the religious community, and anyone who is interested in equal rights.

Fashion Disaster

All I’ve ever felt when looking through a fashion magazine is that the walls and ceiling must be caving in. It was a feeling I had been denying for a long time in favor of self-improvement. When I was just growing into my teen years reading these magazines was like a rite of passage into womanhood. All of the girls I knew in church were reading them and one of them was even in one. So I rushed out to the grocery store as soon as I could to buy a copy and there was her tiny postage stamp-sized picture in an ad for hair products. This girl was the height of the feminine ideal in my eyes and everyone else’s in the little world that I knew, so I figured this is what I would need to break out of my then very inhibited and unfeminine nature and finally turn into that swan all girls are supposed to become. One just wasn’t enough though. Soon I found myself hunting for more of these monthly advice-wielding picture books. Then subscriptions followed. The bright, smiling covers were like candy inviting you with enormous multi-colored text and exclamation points into a land where everything is solved for a growing woman, from what color eye shadow you should be wearing to how to train that boyfriend you imagined you would be having soon. Before I knew it, I had amassed hundreds of them. 

The Joy of Pessimism

There’s something about optimism that’s unnerving. From the time we are born and introduced to stories and characters, the good guy is the optimist. Like the ever-smiling, always laughing Mickey Mouse, optimism is portrayed as the quality of a leader. Sing a little song, or do a happy little dance, put a smile on that face and everything will be fine. Maybe that works for kids, but it doesn’t carry very far after you’ve realized that the "person" who was telling you how easy it is to change your whole view on life was just a drawing and nothing is really that simple. 

On Crowds

It’s a universal truth that everyone hates crowds. You always hear someone saying they are going to head out early to "beat the crowd" or your parents tell you "not to follow the crowd." Crowds can be scary and you can easily get lost in them. Crowds are where individuals blur together and become part of an indistinguishable mass of grotesque movement and sound where only the height of ugliness or beauty can become noticeable. A crowd can subtract from the qualities that make a person unique and render them faceless.

Funny Bone Theory

Stand-up comedian is not a career I am in any danger of falling into. Although there is something very appealing about it to me. It isn’t the fame, the traveling, or the money. In fact, the majority of comedians hardly make any money. The reason is that ever since I was a kid I have been fascinated by what makes people laugh, what creates that emotion that can spread from one person to another and make them feel better instantly -- how it works, what is funny and what isn’t, and how different people interpret humor.

Bless You?

Whenever someone sneezes I simply cannot summon the will to say “bless you.” It is not because I am not sorry they have to experience the inconvenience of being forced to expel a tickle from their nasal cavity by uncontrollably spewing their mucus and saliva all over their own hand or into the general area -- I am very sorry for that.  I have sneezed quite a few times myself and it’s a dreadful, messy affair; but I have never been able to understand or accept the arbitrary task of having to “bless” someone for it.

Catch

I haven’t had any really close friends since I was eight. It was the first time I moved away and started a new school. I was actually looking forward to going somewhere new. When I went in and met my new teacher I was enthusiastic; in my naïve 8-year-old’s world view I didn’t have a worry or a care that anything would go wrong.  On my very first day a girl was helping me take footballs out of a net at recess. Suddenly I heard her say something like "Catch!" When I looked up there was a football flying right into my face. I saw stars. It was almost like that episode of The Brady Bunch where Marcia gets hit in the face with a football. Except, after the pain had subsided and I came back to my senses, there were no apologies. She was pointing and laughing as if she had just told the world’s funniest joke. I had no idea what to do or what to think. I just stood there, stunned. I can still feel the sting at the back of my nose and my eyes starting to water when I think about it. I entertained the thought that maybe she didn’t mean to do it, but she was standing less than two feet away from me. So I sucked it up and, oddly, perhaps stupidly, I smiled back at her as if it were my fault that I didn’t catch it. I never mentioned it to anyone. That would have only made it worse.

I soon became vaguely aware that I was not up to "normal" standards at this new school. I was getting kind of chubby and I didn’t care that the clothes I wore weren’t new, that my plastic Beauty and the Beast lunchbox was out of style, or that everything I liked was "stupid." The other kids seemed to care though. So that counted me out of Acceptanceville. It didn’t help that I also started wearing glasses by my third year there. So I decided to keep my head down and stay quietly unnoticed, which led to painful shyness. I wasn’t teased or taunted often, but I knew the threat of it loomed just above me if I somehow managed to stick my neck out. Other kids who were braver than me did, but I saw what happened to them and I was not interested in arguing, fighting, or defending myself. I took everything that was thrown at me with a smile or indifference.

School wasn’t an unrelentingly bad experience; I made good grades and never got into trouble. But I hated recess, when everyone was let loose and the group distinctions became clear. Sometimes there would be a group to play with or I would get invited to a friendly game of Red Rover because they needed more players. For the most part it was a gamble, and I usually just wound up waiting for it to be over. Of course I didn’t realize it at the time, but I began to withdraw from interaction with people almost completely, or as much as I possibly could. I didn’t understand them, and I didn’t want to. By the time I reached the seventh grade I asked to be homeschooled and my wish was granted. It was my dream to become a hermit. Content to be by myself, I wrote off the general population as shallow, stupid, and insincere. It’s not a decision I regret. I really did enjoy doing things by myself without all the work of trying to "interact" with someone who was going to pick me apart for not being just like them. 

When I started college after moving once again I didn’t have any expectations, but I kept my head down anyway and it worked in keeping everyone at arm’s length. Although I noticed that everyone was a lot nicer and looked for things we had in common instead of what we didn’t. Soon I started to regain some confidence and not feel so "outcast"; and, ironically, I got the part of the popular cheerleader, Cherry, in the school’s production of The Outsiders. I’m not nearly as shy as I used to be but it’s still difficult to get out of my generally negative mindset about people. I have made very few friends because of this, and, except for my boyfriend and brother, none of them are close. It honestly doesn’t bother me though. I don’t really know where I’m going with this other than to say I’m a recovering misanthrope who may have been overly sensitive growing up. I don’t think I will ever be a real “people person” who has lots of friends and social engagements but I don’t aspire to be one. I’m content being who I am right now, whether it’s "normal" or not.