So who am I, and why am I writing this humor column? Well, let me give you a little background.
I am a Stand-up Comic and emcee. I tour nationally with three other comics in a group called The Unlockable Characters. We do stand-up comedy shows at comic book and gaming conventions. We’re “nerd” comics, if you will. I call Nashville home.
In addition to stand-up, I also volunteer with TEP as the Social Coordinator. I’m a mom of two wonderful girls. I’m Jewish but my ethnicity is a cultural cluster-fuck. I grew up in a rock bottom, loserville, nothing town. I’m awkward and my face looks weird from all but one angle. I am a recovering drug addict. I have MS. I suffer from depression. I hate bullies… Oh! And I like girls.
I would say I’m bi because I’ve had relationships with both men and women. I think it comes down to falling in love with people as opposed to genitals. If you’ve got my mind and my heart, what’s between your legs is secondary to me. I’m attracted to intellect, but if that intellect happens to be attached to a really nice pair of boobs, that’d be great! No offense meant to the guys, but I just find a man’s “business” not nearly as nice to look at as a woman’s.
Currently, my only constant companionship and emotional support comes from my male, bisexual “pet human”, whom I will refer to in this column as Mr. Sprinkles. So … ladies…. If you like pina coladas and getting caught in the rain, etc. etc. *awkwardly winking*. I know, I’m not smooth at all. Generally when a woman says “I’m bi curious” I just blurt out “*I VOLUNTEER AS TRIBUTE!*” I’ve been told chicks do NOT, in fact, dig that. Needless to say I’m a work in progress.
Not too long ago, I went through a divorce and started re-struggling with my sexual identity. I had felt this struggle since I was a child. I had battled it, tried to push it down. In my relationships with women, the looming fear of others finding out always colored the connections. I knew at 14 telling my family I questioned my sexuality would go over like a gift wrapped bag of broken glass at a toddler party. There’s nothing worse than being absolutely crazy about someone who makes you *so* happy and yet not being able to tell *any* of your other friends in ninth grade for fear of what might happen.
I didn’t want to live like that after my divorce. I certainly did not want my kids to go through it. Their father’s attitude on alternative sexualities is pretty much, “I don’t have a problem with it, but it’s gross.” Very 1980’s frat boy. I didn’t want my kids to think that being gay was “Okay, but gross or weird.” It’s not. It’s perfectly normal.
I had to sit my kids down and “come out” to them. My youngest child was thrilled with the idea of me dating another woman because all four of us could wear matching dresses, like some kind of lesbian L.L. Bean family. My oldest responded with, “So that’s it? That’s the big talk? Do we have to make it a whole thing? ’Cuz it’s not a big deal.”
They hugged me, said they loved me and wanted me to be happy, proving once again that hate isn’t innate: it’s taught. My kids haven’t learned that behavior and I’m going to make sure they never do. I don’t want to be responsible for adding to the pile of ignorance on the planet.
In this column I will use wit unapologetically to stand for social justice, to call out racism, sexism, and bigotry. I’ll report on the funny goings-on around town, and I’ll even give a little tongue-in-cheek feedback on what I see … occasionally!
I’m performing on next month’s Girl on Girl show at Zanies, December 3, if you’d like to come throw tomatoes at me. You can also check me out on social media if you’re so inclined. I’m @AmySulam on Twitter, @Snark_ology on Instagram, and Amy Sulam on The Facebooks.