Creampuff Revolution: Creampuff Shares a Little Too Much About Her Brother on His Birthday

Not only is today my wonderful brother Jaro's birthday, but I discovered, over at Super Babymama, that it is ALSO Blog For Radical Fun day! Talk about your perfect timing.

Am I a radical . . . anything? Well, I'm a lesbian who's not ashamed to be fat and speaks openly about her donut fetish, so that's a start. My brother Jaro, though, is an actual activist. He organizes, demonstrates, educates and makes a mean tofu curry. So in honour of Jaro's birthday coinciding with Blog For Radical Fun day, I thought I would share one of my favourite stories about my radical brother engaging in fun.

Jaro's first form of resistance was nudity. As a young child, like 3 or 4 years old, he found clothing binding, uncomfortable and unnecessary. He would frolic in the buff at every opportunity and played for hours wearing only the thick, horn-rimmed glasses Mom strapped to his head with an elastic.

We lived in a very kid-friendly neighbourhood growing up and Jaro's childhood best friend, Trla, lived across the street, so in the summer months, it was not uncommon to see the two boys streaking about - joyfully, shamelessly - in various states of undress. Not wanting to oppress him, our mom was totally relaxed with the nudity, but she did try and slap a bathing suit on him if Jaro was leaving the house/backyard. Sometimes, however, Jaro was just too quick for her.

And so it came to pass that one fine afternoon, Jaro nudely beetled across the street to play with Trla. This was not the first time my brother had showed up naked at Trla's house, but Trla's mom, Dela, was fun and crazy (in a great way) and didn't care. However, on that particular afternoon, Dela (who, I found out in my adulthood, happens to be the sister of a crazy right-wing shitslice and politician here in Canada - I'm not going to tell you his name, but it RHYMES with Bockwell Bay), was having a few people over for a tea on her back patio. In the interests of propriety, Dela pleasantly pointed out to Jaro that she was having a tea party and that Jaro was welcome to come back and play if he wanted to go home first and "dress up" for the party. "Okay!" said Jaro excitedly and trotted back across the street to our house.

A few minutes later, Jaro returned to Dela's house . . . wearing one of my sundresses and no ginch. Jaro was kind of a literal child and when Dela told him to dress up, naturally he put on a dress.

"Is that your sister's dress?" Dela asked him.

"Yes!" my brother said brightly, mooning Dela's guests once more as he clambered into the turtle pool with my dress up around his waist.

"Well," said Dela, "it's very nice."

I was reminiscing about this story with my mom awhile back. I was surprised to discover that she had never heard it and had no idea Jaro had worn my dress to Dela's tea party. But she DID remember the day it happened. Jaro came tearing into the house and announced that "I need to wear one of Roro's dresses!" And my mom said, "Which one?" I love that it did not occur to my mom to a) tell my brother that "dresses are for GIRLS" or b) ask him why he wanted to wear a dress. She just helped him pick a dress that brought out the colour of his eyes and sent him back out to play. My mom is a radical too.

It just goes to show - you can never tell which of your children will turn out to be the gay one.

Anyway - happy birthday, Jaro! I hope it's the best ever! And your present is in the works.