How the western suburbs were won... Family is a funny ol' thing... especially extended family that you don't see very often. Most of my family is based in England, very close to where they were born and bred, but a section of my family escaped to Australia and has been there for a good many years. They make the odd trip back "home", but I have never really seen them since they left when I was about 8. Then I take the trip to the other side of the world and I am suddenly inundated with invitations to come and see them, take in a bit of their life and some free accommodation. I have to admit that I was pretty happy not (yes, not) to take them up on this offer as it is always weird catching up with people you should know, but don't. Then I found out my cousin was getting married, how the hell do you get out of that? The answer: you don't. It is suddenly your duty to represent the British massive at an event as momentous as this. In fact, I had to represent everyone as the only person able to make it was my nana. It was probably my nana that made me accept my responsibility into this situation; who can say no to an elderly relative and the chance to see them considering they are only a couple hours flight away. And so began my adventure to the new land of Australia. I had confessed my "lifestyle" choice to my aussie relatives before leaving the uk - just in case something like this came up: and it was easier for them to know this and hopefully that would put them off inviting me over - sadly it failed. They, for some reason, felt compelled to invite me... perhaps it was because no one else in my family knew of my gayness and so it would look odd if I did not attend. So after some phone calls letting them know the extent of things, i.e. I would be coming and so would my partner, we agreed to go. As it was discussed further I can't be sure of which was more shocking to them; that I had a partner or that she was black. So we packed up our belongings in nz and caught a plane over to oz, planning to stay a few days over the wedding period and then head down to Sydney for work (gotta keep those pennies rolling). The flight was early in the morning so we kipped at the airport the night before - not the best way to meet family; bedraggled and tired. Butterflies in the stomach and a new time zone to get used to and there I was walking out of the arrivals gate and into the arms of my relatives. My nana had also shown up - which was lovely - and so had a few of the others (it was early so not all had made it out of bed). There were hellos and introductions as I tried to introduce Tilly in a none too overwhelming sense. My nana was great and hugged her as her own grandchild and my uncle too. Although we have to remember that my nana does not know the truth of my relationship with Tilly and we silently agreed it would be best to stay that way, I'm not sure an old heart can handle that kind of news and I defo didn't want to test the theory. So we headed back to their house... Ok.. background... my family, hence known as the Fords, have built a very nice life for themselves. Those of my extended family back in the uk who have visited have come back with fairy tale views of their life and a slight green glint in their eyes. So we drove thro early morning Brisbane traffic and the landscape changed for the more green and spacious. We pull up to the house and are shuffled thro to get our breakfast. I shoot Tilly a hopeful glance and we head out onto their veranda. Thro bleary eyes I make out a huge garden, massive pool and veranda that I could easily fit my own flat into. The table stretches on and seats 16 people easily. I hug more cousins who are now 3 times as big as I remember them and sit, well more perch at the table as I didn't want to break anything. I look down at my tatty t-shirt and rogue shorts and feel that I should have made more of an effort because although early, my family look like they are ready to take part in a photo shoot at any moment. I even find myself peering into the bushes in case there is a photographer waiting to pounce: I only find two dogs and that satisfies my curiosity for the moment. I have to admit hunger and so start eating whilst answering the questions as best as I can; "are you keeping well?", "what was nz like?" and so on. I ensure I don't speak with my mouth full and brush crumbs from my lap subtly onto the floor before being noticed. Breakfast is over and we get shown to the room we are staying in. As we ascend the stairs apologies are made that out bedroom is the only one without an ensuite -oh no, how terrible(!). It turns out we are getting my little cousin's room which is like most 13 year old girls room. We dump our bags and whisper exclamations of size to each other. A quick grasp of the hand and we are back downstairs doing the "family" bit. I wander about the house and keep finding rooms; tidy, large rooms. The lounge room is amazing and holds the largest home tv I have ever seen. In my moment of speechlessness Tilly asks just how big it is - it is 157cm across. The picture on the screen is holding familiar characters, but at life size, I can't quite take it in. Their whole house is like this; objects that I know normally to be a fair few sizes smaller and all I can think is that this is my families stuff - weird. I mean their kitchen is so big it easily fits a pool table in it and so posh that the hob doesn't have k*** or buttons: it is touch sensitive - this certainly fooled a few of us who had never seen anything like this before. We have a couple of days before the wedding and these kind of blended into each other. Meeting people who know much about me, but I know nothing of them. Them able to recite family trees, work out which parent is mine and then go on about things as if they were there. The familiarity was daunting; they knew more about my family than I do! Many hours are spent with a forced smile glued to my lips trying to work out what the hell convinced me to come here and feel so out of it. As many of you know I don't really spend a lot of time with my own nuclear family so spending a few days with extended family is definitely pushing it in my book. Of course, my mother rings constantly knowing she has finally tracked me down to a fixed landline where she can get me whenever she wants. I speak to my mother more in those few days than I can ever remember. This reminds me to congratulate myself on not handing over any contact details, except email, to my parents for the time leading up to this. I am suddenly remembered as to why I did it and a small triumphant smile fleets across my lips, but I am careful; I can't let them know what I am thinking. Blend - that is the word of this trip, and Tilly and I spend the entire time trying to shrink into the floor not wanting to be noticed. But this is much harder than I initially thought. Firstly I am family and have to be introduced to everyone and have to spend hours drinking tea pretending to care what the f*** they are talking about. Secondly, Tilly is not family and is black. This leads to the obvious questions which are answered politely. I have to admit at being fully embarrassed by the situation and apologizing almost hourly to dragging Tilly into this situation and making her go thro this. I mean I'm family, it's my duty, but she has no need to go thro this torture. In fact I often tuned out of what was going on, looked around and wondered how the hell I shared any connection with these people, we were so different it was almost painful to have it shoved that hard into your face. Again, another congratulation for not turning out like these people. Now, don't get me wrong they have their nice sides, but it's the games you have to watch for... Most games happened during meal time conversations. These were the times everyone was trapped in the same area and so the contest could begin. Lips twitched, eyes darted as each person slowly raised their guard, not wanting to get caught as you were normally first up. If we were back in the old west the bell would have tolled, the towns people hidden and the tumble weed taken its leave of absence. Silence is no use, not getting involved is impossible and somehow you are talking about things you don't care about yet trying to ensure you don't get caught out. Before dinner you take to looking at the chairs around the table and wondering what you have in the wardrobe that could help you look more invisible before the games started. Sadly, none of these measures worked and you were soon drawn in to pointless arguments about nothing and everything. Memories were dragged up from the past and things we'd done as 4 year olds aired to all for comic relief. Cringing became second nature, right after the bull s*** plant in your tongue. If you were too quiet they found you and if too loud they shot you down: it was about finding the balance, saying enough to satisfy them. The games also involved detection work, was what was being said what was meant? Quite often the answer was no: it was either a way of making jibes or trying to cover up a prior comment that had not been accepted. More often than not, it was the jibe action. Memories became twisted as each had a view about it, words spoken on the tip of a dagger and hearts hurt with each sentence spoken. It was a horrid destructive thing to witness and again, congratulations on not being like this at all... I do note the amount of congratulations I have handed to myself during this time, but it helped me stay sane. Returning briefly to the obvious fact of Tilly, yes black and no not family was a little on the agenda of my aunt. Not racist, but just unable to comprehend someone so different and someone who really didn't give a s*** about what they thought of her. In this life everyone cares what everyone else thinks, its how you judge yourself and review what needs to be improved, whilst silently marking points against "friends". So when one evening's conversation took a turn to nature v nurture things looked a little more interesting. Everyone has a view on this subject so everyone charged their wine glasses ready for a good game. Examples were upheld with recent disappointments in the family (brief eye contact with me), children who had done things that were totally unexpected and unwarranted in this type of family. (Note: my cousin Rick is also a black sheep, hence him being able to take fire whilst I recover and recharge the armor). Arguments raged and although taking different sides, they still only reflected the side of the rich, white family. I have to admit that my immediate family do ok for money: not rolling in it, but enough to have a comfortable life. But, through education and getting my arse out of the family I have been able to see that life is much more complicated than they are trying to argue. That people come from all types of backgrounds and what they were saying was basically bulls***. I glance down and silently load my deadly sniper ready for battle... I politely butt my way into the conversation saying what a load of old crock they are chatting about and remind them that not everyone has the background and privilege that they do, that you don't have to come from money to be successful in whatever you decide to do. I launch on with my attack, feeling great as all attention has turned my way and people are actually listening (miracle). I bring in examples of the young people I have worked with, friends I have met and explain each of their circumstances in relation to the argument. I'm flying at this point until I glance down and realize I'm running out of ammo: the words start slowing and the bull s*** plant in my tongue starts smoking as it can't hold out much longer. I look to Tilly begging her to rescue me as those listening realize that I make a good point but cant back it up with "real examples" in their eyes. It's over, I'm crashing and burning, all my good work about to be undone along with my defense and then it happens. Tilly opens her mouth and takes over from me. I catch my breath, stunned that I lasted out so long on the battle field. Tilly has armed herself with the most important weapons - truth and experience. There is nothing that can stop these, and everyone's armor flickers in the candlelight. Again silence fills the battlefield and everyone's attention turns to our area. Tilly confidently strides forth bearing her African heritage (insert look of admiration from me here) and the African way of raising children. Examples, anecdotes and reasons stream from her lips and others realise they can't do anything about it, their war disintegrating before them. Even my aunt looks forlorn. Her judgments of Tilly are reduced to nothing as she realizes that Tilly may be dating her niece (enough for an attack in anyone's language), but that Tilly isn't some stupid young teenager leading anyone astray: that she has intelligence, age and experience behind her. People have now had time to regroup and another discussion breaks off down the table and others start returning to previous discussions. We look at each other realizing that they may never take what we have said into consideration, but we have escaped the battle field with relatively few battle wounds and that was how the western suburbs was won....