My Sister-in-Law Steve

My son Bob is in love, and wants to marry his boyfriend, Steve.  What’s wrong with that, I say?  Why can’t two people who love each other become man and wife?  But then, which of them would be the “man,” and which would become the wife? 

So I asked them, and it turns out that Bob will be the “husband” and Steve will become his blushing bride.  That will make Steve my granddaughter’s aunt and also the sister-in-law of my sister’s daughter Sue.  Heather, who has two mommies and is the wife of my other son, Bill, will also have Steve for a sister-in-law.  At the same time, Steve will be the mother of my grandchildren if by some strange miracle there are any, and the step-mother of my ex-wife’s son if she is willing to grant custody to me.  Looking to the previous generation, when my mother speaks of her grandson’s wife she will be referring to Steve, who will also be the grand-daughter-in-law of my father.  Finally, Steve will be the niece of his mother’s brother Joe.  Fortunately we have a small family.

Confused?  Of course you are.  That is the whole point.  Once we re-define “marriage” all of the other terms we use to describe familial relationships will become equivocal, and eventually obsolete.  And along with them will go all the ancient courtesies and symbols which render a family sacred.  Liberals hate the family because it is a pillar—actually, the most essential pillar—of Western (Christian) Civilization.  And the overwhelming majority of homosexuals are liberal.  A “family” once meant a certain institution that was foundational to society.  Now it means any group of people.  A marriage, if liberals get their way again, will soon mean the very same thing.  (Contemplate, for example, what a “prison marriage” would be.) 

But marriages and families are not arbitrary associations.  They exist in all surviving societies for the same essential reason, and that is because they are necessary for the production of new citizens and the transmission of the culture which, under the pressure of entropy, is never more than one generation away from chaos.  A populace can produce new biologically-human life forms without marriage, as long as it can afford to hire additional prison guards.  And it can pass on pop culture, for what that’s worth, without families of the traditional sort, provided the antibiotics continue to work.  But the creation of civic minded individuals with the traits of character and skills to maintain Western Civilization takes something more.  It takes the long term commitment of what homosexuals call “breeders,” men and women who are willing to sacrifice their own lives for the development of their progeny and the good of society.   It takes marriages and families properly defined.

Remember when there used to be firemen?  That was a perfectly good word for the job before radical feminism came along.  Now the term is “sexist.”  But because “firewoman” was awkward and did not carry the same comforting tone of reassurance, we opted for the self-congratulatory “fire-fighter” instead.  “Waiter” and “waitress” were also deemed sexist, and so in their place we defaulted to “server” in spite of that term’s menial flavor.  (“Servant” was already taken.)  Next time you buy a shirt the man or woman who sells it to you will be a “sales person,” because “salesman” is sexist and “saleswoman” is offensive to the radical feminists who, as you may have noticed, are no longer anywhere to be seen except when abortion needs taxpayer funding.

If we allow marriage to be re-defined, rest assured that all the terms by which we define other family relationships will immediately come under attack.  Steve wants society to define his relationship with Bob as a marriage, but when I suggested that that would make him Bob’s wife and my daughter-in-law, he balked.  “It’s bad enough being called a fairy,” he scolded.  “It would be, like,  totally unfair to allow people to call me a woman or a girl.”  Stevie was comforted by the assurance that the law would never allow that.  And she was right.  To call a man a “woman” on the job, unless of course he wanted to be called a woman, would merely be sexual harassment.  At worst it might result in the loss of your job.  But to do so on the street would be a “hate crime” against a GOLTGI OPOP (Gay or Lesbian Transgendered Individual or Pet of Preference).    Obviously, once marriage is re-defined along these lines a whole host of new statutes will be required to prevent anyone’s being offended on account of his (or should I say “her”) marital status.  Bob suggested he and Steve might both be called “spouses.”  I thanked him for his contribution to linguistic clarity as I headed in to try on my bridesmaid dress.  “I’ve heard of donkey acts in Tijuana,” I mused to myself, “ that will require a whole new relational terminology.”  But I caught myself up short with the realization that such a perspective might deflate the joy of Steve and Bob’s wedding.

So go ahead if you want to!  Re-define marriage!  But don’t come crying to me when you no longer have any idea what to call the woman who keeps house with the daughter of your brother’s ex wife.  I saw this whole thing coming way back when the word “queer” was still a euphemism, when “gay” meant “happy,” and when Liberace was the only homosexual most people knew of who didn’t live in a Greyhound Bus station.  I once shared that careless thought with Curtis down at the perfume bar.  His wife, Fred, was deeply insulted.  But if I am a homophobe as some have claimed me to be, then I was born that way.  So deal with it!  Anyway, I still don’t see why everyone was so offended when I refused to shave my chest for the reception, though being told how much sexier that would make me was certainly a tempting enticement.  But no thanks!   Anyway, I’m afraid I can’t help much with the family identity problem unless you want to call all of your relatives “comrade” like the French did after their revolution.  Come to think of it, why don’t we all start practicing right now!

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