Family. It’s a vague word, stirring various definitions and emotions with it. Many people define family as people you are related to by blood. For others, it is the definition, the category, the name, of the people they come home to, or love each day. I am still exploring how I feel about this touchy subject.
I think my newfound advertency towards the meaning of family appeared after my reading of Jefferson’s Children. This story tells of the disputes between Jefferson’s children from Martha’s line (the white line) and his slave, Sally Hemingses line. Accounts from both sides are included. I recommend you read this book if you have not…it is truly a wonder of two worlds.
And here’s why I bring up the discussion of family: Last Friday, my dad took me by surprise when he told me my cousins were visiting from Australia at the end of August. Doesn’t sound too singular or out-of-the-ordinary, does it? Though for me, it is indeed quite an extraordinary occurrence. It brings me bliss and anxiety. David (my cousin) and my aunt from Dad’s side are visiting the States for 13 days. Three of those thirteen will be spent in Boston. Still doesn’t sound too aberrant, does it? Well, what if I told you I’m calling them cousins, I am calling them family, though I’ve never laid eyes upon them myself? It’s a mystery to me what society has socially constructed as “okay” or “not okay” to call family. In retrospect, when I think about who society says is “not okay” to call family, I realize we often times eschew calling our life-long friends as family, and opting for the alternative who we may have never acquainted. This is no congeal topic to grasp and I still ruminating and challenging my own, and society’s, “standards” for who is to be considered family. For now, I just can't wait to meet my cousin. Maybe he will pull me one way or the other.
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