Wanda Sykes, one of my favorite comedians, came out yesterday as a result of Prop. 8. I salute her and can only imagine the courage it took as a Black entertainer to identify herself as gay. I’ve been counting on Queen Latifah, but I guess she feels she has too much to lose, and that’s the problem.
It’s easy for me as a heterosexual white woman to feel frustrated with Queen Latifah, Anderson Cooper, and John Travolta for refusing to come out of the closet. The gay community could use their help in teaching the ignorant that gay is normal and okay.
To help inspire anyone who’s afraid to come out, let me say this:
I have fibromyalgia!
In January of this year, I wrote about fibromyalgia here and made fun of it as a fake disorder. I still get comments about it, both mocking and defensive. It’s still a divisive subject, and it’s easy to see why.
When I got the fibromyalgia diagnosis a few months ago, I was furious. I told the rhumatologist, “But I don’t want that! I don’t even believe in it!” She was sympathetic. I called my friends, who all laughed hysterically, just as I’d expected. I laughed too. It fucking serves me right for making fun of it. The doctor urged me to start walking instead of sitting on my ass all day. I forced my self to walk my dog, and ended up in the hospital. [see Pain Journals] There, I was in too much pain to think about fibromyalgia. Later, I was reminded of it when I woke up each morning with sore muscles and feeling like I’d been the loser in a titanic boxing match.
I still think it’s funny, though! I wrote a song about fibromyalgia while I was in the hospital, delirious on morphine. If I knew how to add audio to this, I’d sing it right now, that’s how good it is. I even want the pink Fibromyalgia Awareness Bracelet (hint: think Christmas!)
My poor husband begs me every day to “do something” for my fibromyalgia. He even brought home two awful books last night about how to “manage” it. The books make me more disgusted than ever with Fibro, as we call it in the Fibro business. The “illness” is traced to everything you can think of: childhood abuse, overly-sensitive nervous system, fucked up neuro-transmitters, chronic stress. The symptoms, again, include insomnia, restless sleep, depression, fatigue, fucked up digestive system, fuzzy memory, head ache, bla bla bla.
Basically, the Fibro portrait is that of a screwed-up woman with emotional problems. Who wants to identify with that?? It’s stupid and embarrassing, like hemmmoroids or psoriasis only worse because it’s not even supposed to exist.
So, here is my coming out party. Yay for me! I am bravely admitting that every one of my muscles is sore and I wake up going Ow! Ow! like an old man with lumbago. I’m not planning to do anything about it unless it starts impinging on my lifestyle of doing nothing.
Now, does anyone want to come out if you’ve been too embarrassed or afraid to? Or would you like to make fun of my Fibro? Let the games begin.
