Today the read box from irrepressible.info was quoting a paragraph from the Iranian Gay & Lesbian Healthcare Providers Association; this prompted me to discover more about this group, and I read some of their articles.

In one of them the following sentence rung a bell:

My family, like most Iranian families, centered on worrying about people's judgment. I learned from my family that my purpose of life was to earn people's respect by becoming educated and successful. Provoking envy in people meant I was on the right track. — Dr. Payam Ghassemlou

This idea disturbs me, for it describes accurately some of the feelings I have now about the way I was educated — although I have no (known) Iranian origins.

This accurate match does not seem to fit with the idea that the driving line of thought behind my education was socialism, not Islam. So I was told.

Or does it?

There are several ways to describe socialism; the following is relevant:

Socialism as a political system of communal ownership: a political theory or system in which the means of production and distribution are controlled by the people and operated according to equity and fairness rather than market principles — Microsoft Encarta

This raises the question of who decides what is equity and fairness. If I understand correctly, that would be the very same people who decide how to redistribute the wealth. Threfore, assuming that attribution of wealth to a person is decided not based on their innate capabilities but rather by their perception by society as a group, the way to attract (more) wealth to a specific person is to ensure that they are judged positively by society.

There we are. Islamism and socialism as backgrounds for family life have different goals, but some of their effects on the education of the young are the same — namely, preventing the blooming of children when it doesn't lead to "success" as defined by society.

I once thought that all families were doing that. How naive.

At 6 this morning I woke up panting and sweating from a terrifying nightmare.

It all started with a quite long dream with an intricate story. The dream was about me being on a road trip to reconnect with old friends, and I was on my way back with the updated knowledge that my friends' families were not doing well, and that I should start taking care of my own family to avoid the bleak future my friends are facing.

Not a meaningless dream, but not a nightmare either.

The creepy side of the story started when I arrived at a place were my mother, brother and I were to take tea with an old friend of my mother. The place was this friend's house, on the seaside, with a veranda just above sea level.

While the other people were merrily chatting on the sofa, I approached the window to look outside. Then it struck me that the veranda was flooded where I expected to see dry planks. When I realized that the water level was steadily rising and the house was tilting on the side towards the water, I shouted “everyone outside, now!” and jumped out of the window into the water.

As dreams allow, I was then seeing myself and the landscape from a different perspective. The house I was in was at the top of a dyke which was slowly crumbling. My brother was already out swimming but my mother was painfully trying to push herself out of the window while the water was pouring inside.

The current was intense. Water was flowing freely into the valley behind the dyke. My mum started crying that she was not strong enough to swim. My brother and I swam to her side and held her by her arms, trying to accompany the flow towards the valley.

Then my perspective changed to show me how the landscape was slowly and strongly replaced by the flood. I could see people trying to get out of houses from the windows in the roof, imagining the fate of those people in houses already below water level.

Somehow my family and I managed to land on a dry piece of land. We were in a part of an urban area above water level, but I had no idea of the precise location.

At that point I started to decide that I had enough and that it was time to wake up. But before it happened, I could dream my mother complaining how she needed some medication and food and me having no idea of how to get that in a flooded city.

Waking up was painful : I did not sleep enough and the nightmare left me shocked. I fixed myself a glass of water and a piece of bread, and I tried to sleep again while brooding over how relationships between civilians in a flooded country would be affected by such a precarious situation.

The main reason behind my receiving my mother and brother at home for the two Christmas days was to take a point across to myself (first) and to my family (next).

It has to do, of course, with emancipation. I needed to make a statement, make it clear that the place I call “home” is now the place I am living in and not anywhere else. That I am fully able to be in charge and host an elaborate family event. And allowing them to peek around freely at the various queer items laying around my place was part of the story, too.

And all went well, much too well.

They made me feel that I was doing well, but exactly as good as they were expecting me to do. And I knew it. I did my best for the event, knowing in advance that it was expected, would be “appreciated” but would not create any feeling that I was treating them in a special way.

When I think about it, I see either that I was raised with insanely high standards of making other people feel at ease without them even noticing, or that my family was totally insensitive, as if we had no ability to be positively surprised, or acknowledge with genuine gratitude as special token of attention.

Either way, it is quite a disaster for my mood and my ego, and a serious drawback in my social life. I come to be very careful with all guests, whether I like or dislike them, and provide a level of attention and service usually unexpected from them; although it is totally "natural" and un-exceptional for me.

I've been explained once that if I was a woman fifty years ago, I would be considered “ideal wedding material.”

But!

The first issue with this situation, now, is that I have absolutely no idea of how to make someone who is special to me, feel special with me.

The various attitudes displayed by other people, used for seduction purposes and considered as “attentive” or “caring,” strike me as totally obvious and common. I do that all the time, and not for seduction — so then, if I want to do “more,” what's left? Besides, I tend to show very publicly that this behavior is automatic for me; with time, people who become closer to me get used to it and their expectations raise, too.

The other issue with this situation is that I become gradually “out of reach” for the other way around. This behavior of mine tends to make people believe that I also have high expectations, that I need a lot of display of attention and care to become impressed and notice. Although it is not true (I am really easily impressed) it comes through this way quite often because I tend to keep my feelings for myself — another habit carefully learned from the family environment.

Hence comes another resolution for 2007: actually show that I am happy instead of keeping it for myself.