This is about the holidays. This is about saying the truth.

There seems to be no cognitive difficulty in projecting a particular fear on to other people. The ubiquitous helplessness present within the process of fear is easily identifiable and quantifiable. If someone has a fear of bees, you can generally refer to the memory of a family member or friend who has a similar or identical fear. When one feels anxiety at being near the pollination dance of a colorful stinging insect, one can take solidarity from the time when Uncle George urinated himself in fear when an errant bumblebee flew into the car he was driving.

This comparison and projection of experience provides a kind of standard that we can attach normativity to. Right, wrong, better, worse, they become molded on to experience as a reference point. One may think, “Yes, I am nervous at being near this honey-bee. But at least my bladder is resisting catastrophic failure, I’m not about to swerve into oncoming traffic because of a confused insect, and I haven’t left a persistent odor in an enclosed space.” Comfort and community through the sympathy of fear is a time-tested method of human development and socialization.

But what happens when one becomes afraid of something generally considered to be good? What happens when one has a fear of integrity, a fear of honesty, a fear of beauty? I argue, at least for non-sociopathic individuals, that this kind of fear comes out of the disagreement between value standards. One can learn to fear one own’s integrity or honesty or beauty when it means obvious disagreement. One can fear the good when being good means losing what little social status is left. The choice is usually presented as an ultimatum: be true to yourself or leave truth behind for the acceptance of others.

This generally manifests in families, though it is not exclusive to them. Any social group that is capable of bestowing legitimate status has this phenomenon. The ultimatum, as I have observed and experienced it, is part of the small print within the implicit agreement of obligated social relations. Yes, you get the benefits of X category or Y category, but you have to meet the required political standards (above and beyond the basic human standards of civility). Don’t meet the standards? Then you don’t get the benefits of togetherness, compassion, and shared awkwardness.

Conceptions of unconditional love (such as the ones thrown about willy-nilly this time of year) run counter-intuitive to this. How can one adhere to standards of practice if one is pledged to a practice of love without conditions? How can one claim to love beyond conditions if one believes that all of one’s family should be together in faith or in politic? In short, how can a family truly fulfill the general pluralistic message of “goodwill towards man” without serious reflection and disagreement?

The answer, of course, is that it can’t.

Case in point: up until recently, I have spent the last seven years hiding from my biological family (with a few exceptions). I didn’t just isolate myself from them. I attempted to keep my whole method of existence a secret. This is due to a multitude of factors, but primarily it came down to a matter of lifestyle and faith. How do you reconcile with a family who seems to believe that personal and moral worth is measured by a paycheck? How do you reconcile with a family who refuses to acknowledge the difference between “the Bible says” and “the Bible reads”? How do you reconcile with a group of religious conservative Christians when you are a questionably theistic progressive without surrendering one’s own belief structure?

The answer, it seemed, was that you couldn’t.

But holiday magic, schmaltz, and institutionalized social pressures have a way of coercing a person. Buried beneath all this text, is a personal statement. Unlike the strained paragraphs that get put in business literature, this one deals in direct statements of purpose. The hope here is to clear any fog that remains and start a dialogue. (Because really, if you’re reading this, you probably know me pretty well. If you don’t…well, after this you will.)

It’s time to say the truth, damn the torpedoes, missiles, and Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.

1. I am bi-sexual. This means I am sexually attracted to both women and men. This is not a choice. This does not change my moral character. This does not mean I am automatically attracted to you or your children. This is not a phase. I will debate you on this.
2. I am polyamorous. This means that my wife and I maintain an ethical open relationship. This means that we are free to date and have responsible sexual relations with other people, if we so choose. We may not choose to, since there are many people who are jerks and damn it, we’re too busy for bullshit. Yes, she is fine with it. Yes, I am fine with it. It is just like your relationship, complete with boring and exciting parts, only with more people. Your consent to this is not required, but your tolerance is.
3. Though I don’t know why you need to know my exact relationship status, I am, as of Christmas Eve 2011, seeing three people. My wife, my second partner who lives with us, and a third who is an old friend. All three know about each other and get along reasonably. This arrangement may change in the future, since I value personal autonomy and do not wish to unreasonably limit anyone’s life path.
4. I am majoring in Philosophy and Sociology. Yes, I am aware that you think I won’t make any money. Yes, I am aware that you think both disciplines are just people making up stuff or bullshitting. Your ignorance of my disciplines is not my problem. I intend to become an educator, though there are other career options open. Besides the ones that involve saying “Would you like fries with that?” Quick note: that joke was never funny.
5. I am a syncretic theistic thinker. I have never felt anything but awkwardness and negativity in a church. But I admire the ritual, art, and narrative beauty of religion. My wife and I are dorks about religion and enjoy collaborating on ritual construction through research, dialogue, and philosophical analysis. Since faith must be a thing of indeterminacy, I have taken the position that the ultimate truth of reality seems less important than the celebration of the story involved. Simply put, I don’t give a shit about what you practice. I want to give my years a story beyond human experience because I like the beauty of imaginative emotion. I can debate about this too, if you want.
6. I have strong political views that can’t be completely summarized here. I suppose I belong to the Left. I am a person who adheres to values of social justice. The melanin or mammary glands never mattered: if you are human, then you have certain inalienable rights which must be preserved. Achieving full economic productivity means encouraging every individual with respect. Liberty should not be treated as a finite resource. Insisting on tolerance is not the same as insisting on prejudice. Dissent is what makes us great.
7. I am poor. I am a student who makes mistakes and who relies upon others for assistance. Do I think society could handle this “burden” better? Certainly. Do I believe in monetary responsibility? Of course. That doesn’t mean mistakes don’t get made or sacrifices aren’t made. I appreciate the gifts that I am given and I am grateful for the support. The investment that is made into my well-being enables me to provide for others in ways that I can’t summarize. Your consent is not required, only your basic human respect.
8. I don’t party well. I can’t stand beer pong. I don’t like sports that much. I play video games and critique them afterwards. I like a good glass of wine. I feel guilty that I went back to eating meat. I hate Twilight and all things that needlessly propagate the acceptance of surrendering one’s own autonomy.
9. If English is your native language and you do not have a cognitive disorder, I refuse to use smaller words to communicate my ideas. Improve yourself and look up words you don’t know in the dictionary. That’s how you get better.
10. My time is a privilege. Don’t waste it. You have better things to do. Go do them. Stop bothering me.

There we have it. The ten or so truths that make up my basic belief structure.

If the pluralism of the holidays is to be fulfilled, we should exchange our beliefs, seek to understand them, tolerate them and question where necessary. When we disagree properly, we discover common ground, misconceptions that can be corrected, and perhaps a whole new world-view. It is not enough that we join together. If we want goodwill towards our families, our friends, our loved ones, then we must learn how to disagree with respect, kindness, and honesty.

Do you disagree?