To say I grew up in a blended family is an understatement. To paint you a better picture, my first fake I.D. came from my step cousin’s stepdaughter. Given our lack of genealogy, it looked nothing like me, but I guess my grace and charm were believable enough. Nearly everyone in my family has been married and divorced more than once. Now this may sound like dysfunction, but we are the most normal people I know, and as far as I’m concerned, everyone else is crazy. We are a bunch of freaks and geeks and drama queens, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
While blood doesn’t define a family, it does flow thicker than water.
(They say family isn’t always blood, which I will allude to later, so hang tight).
There may be members of your family you choose not to associate with, but there’s a lineage there you cannot escape, nor should you want to. We’ve all got family we’ve never met, have yet to meet or may never meet again. But nonetheless, we share ancestry, heirlooms and bloodlines, all of which must be treasured and kept sacred for future generations.
Alexander. Hamilton. Clement. Miller. Without those four names, I would cease to exist. That’s got to mean something. The black and white pictures, the recipes, the family traditions and the skeletons tucked in the coat closet are the roots of the family tree I am blessed to perch on.
Love. Divorce. Life. Death. Without these four words, my family would cease to exist. The marriages, re-marriages, births and legacies left behind have required our tree to take deeper roots, blossoming in all seasons of life.
Despite the aroma of hole-in-the-wall bars I frequent, it’s not the 60’s anymore. We may have left it to Beaver at one point in time, but now that we are leaving it to the Kardashians and Jenners, our square peg of a defining family continues to evolve, rather than erupt. Steps and halves, blacks and whites, moms and dads, moms and moms, dads and dads, moms that were dads, and dads that were moms are re-ordering the four corners of which a standard was once built.
We have remodeled our American dream to fit within the dream our hearts actual desire. Everyone is looking to update their kitchens and floor plans so why must we remain stagnant in our outdated definition of what life and family features. Because sometimes it ends up differently than we imagined and it’s better that way.
Now, I hope you don’t think I’m encouraging divorce and gender re-configuration for everyone. What I hope what you are encouraged by instead, is the opportunity of adjusting your dream despite what society tells you. Remember when you couldn’t marry outside of your race or religion? Though I was born in the 90’s, I was raised in the South, and I do have a hazy memory of what that expectation entailed. What I have a better understanding of now, is the liberation of choosing your destiny.
More steps means more food and presents at Christmas. More halves means a better chance at a kidney transplant, God forbid that’s ever an issue. And more interracial marriages mean prettier skin tones for the next generations.
Now, back to the “family isn’t always blood” matter. Family, often, are the friends we choose for ourselves. When I moved away from home I didn’t know a soul in my new town. Thanks to my great looks and even greater personality, establishing a network of friends came quickly. Establishing a family came naturally.
The people I have added to my Christmas shopping list are the same people I spend weekly game nights with and call when my 2005 Corolla breaks down.
But more importantly than car repairmen and stiff competition for Catchprase, I’ve gained holidays like “friendsgiving” and unbreakable bonds with humans from all walks of life. Walks I never stepped foot on but have experienced through storytelling on back porches filled with late nights of laughter. “Meet the family” has become “meet your new family” complemented by a filled-in address book and weekend road trips to an array of hometowns.
Monthly family dinners are carried out by a slew of backgrounds and heredity that feel like home. Spring breaks and weekend getaways are recollected through shaken Polaroids that feature the best people I know.
Families are not defined by the convicts, addicts, queers or cheats. Nor are families defined by the cookie cutters, CEO’s, child-bearers or Christian cousins. Families are made on love; maintained by forgiveness, acceptance, a lot of laughs; and march on through stories and survivors. There will always be struggle, but it’s deciding who is worth struggling with that makes the adversities bearable.
Family is by blood, by marriage, and by choice. To best define my family, the whole gang that it is, I’ll say this: We are vulnerable with the best intention. Beautiful creatures whose deepest necessity is love we find through different outlets. We are humans with a past and hopefuls with a future, living in the known present that “it is what it is.” Together, we laugh and we learn. We pray and we protect. We apologize and we appreciate. We dream and we discover. We fight and we forgive. We tease and we trust. We give and we grow. We believe, so that we may belong to this everlasting, ever-evolving clan, filled with unconditional love.
“It’s the people in your life who want you in theirs; the ones who accept you for who you are. The ones who would do anything to see you smile and who love you no mater what.” –– Unknown
