One of my sisters believes I chose to be queer.

Did you remind her
you had no more choice about chasing guys
than she did?

Yes.
But her favorite televangelist
says I must be mistaken,
or just lying,
because who wouldn’t choose to be hated
by all the hetero homophobes
like televangelists,
and evangelical radio heads,
right?

That makes no sense.
She can’t really believe
you would choose to belong
to any repressed and humiliated minority,
especially during early onset of puberty,
when every girl and boy in any culture
is terrified of becoming different,
or special,
or weeded out of the clickety-clak pack.

Well, as she sees it,
she is in a LoseLose double-bind.
Either I chose to be queer, and am thereby demented,
or God graces all forms of WinWin sexual expression,
which would be contrary to her homophobic enculturation,
so it is easier to believe I am nuts
to choose perversely
than to consider herself nuts
not to choose more graciously,
especially with regard to God’s creative capacity for love,
rather than simplistic judgments
which look and smell and sound like patriarchal sexism
more than radical compassion of God’s healthy pleasure
of regenerative love among all gendered children,
red and yellow,
black and white,
gay and straight
and shades of grey transgendered,
each is precious in our polyamorous
Gaian Hypothesis sight.

What about your other sister?

Oh, she agrees.

With what, or whom?

She agrees we’re all nuts.
Nuts
not to choose healthy love
over pathological hate
and fear
and anger
and greed,
craving to keep all the hot men
for one’s own privileged clan.