30 Day Letter Challenge
Day 28 — Someone that changed your life
My fifth grade teacher was a bitch. She made me hate school and I started flunking out and not wanting to do my homework. I was a pretty great student before she came along, so she definitely changed my life. I could be a lawyer or a marine biologist, or a zoologist. Or a cop - I think I'd like to be a cop.
My high school drama teacher changed my life. He gave me a therapeutic outlet when I needed one, he got me into theater, which got me into college, he was the only person who noticed when my anorexia was getting out of control. He founded the GSA club at my school and convinced me that I should join, even before I knew I was gay, though I was a huge gay rights activist at 14.
He grounded me, gave me balance, gave me a safe space to scream and cry when my world was crashing down and then taught me how to rebuild. He could turn a drama class into a playground for two year olds, or send us drifting high above the earth like astral projection. There were no limits as to what our bodies were capable of with him. After college, he gave me a reference for a steady job. He looks out for me, he laughs with me, he tells me to cut the crap when I'm holding myself back. He's everything a teacher is supposed to be.
Showing posts with label gay rights. Show all posts
Showing posts with label gay rights. Show all posts
Nov 19, 2012
Nov 6, 2012
Visits
As you may know, I've been visiting with my best friend who is very liberal, socially progressive, tolerant - the first person who told me it was okay when I came out. And she's not voting Obama. In fact, she's not voting at all.
I already voted and I believe it's a secret ballot and I'm not going to tell you in detail what I did and didn't vote for, but it's pretty obvious I'm pro-Obama and at the very least anti-Romney and completely terrified of what will happen if he becomes the president. So, urging people to vote on the candidate of their choice has been fairly important to me. I never talked to her about it, never pushed her because she is so smart and I just assumed it was a no brainer. Of course if you're an informed citizen you would vote, right?
Apparently, wrong. It's hard for me to comprehend. Especially since so many of the people I follow on twitter are zealous about voting and knowing the issues. Social media caused me to be very well informed as I cast my ballot this year. I just can't believe that bright, informed people in demographics where rights and privileges are at stake would sit this one out.
I already voted and I believe it's a secret ballot and I'm not going to tell you in detail what I did and didn't vote for, but it's pretty obvious I'm pro-Obama and at the very least anti-Romney and completely terrified of what will happen if he becomes the president. So, urging people to vote on the candidate of their choice has been fairly important to me. I never talked to her about it, never pushed her because she is so smart and I just assumed it was a no brainer. Of course if you're an informed citizen you would vote, right?
Apparently, wrong. It's hard for me to comprehend. Especially since so many of the people I follow on twitter are zealous about voting and knowing the issues. Social media caused me to be very well informed as I cast my ballot this year. I just can't believe that bright, informed people in demographics where rights and privileges are at stake would sit this one out.
Oct 11, 2010
National Coming Out Day
While I don't know anyone who has come out on National Coming Out Day, I think it is an important time to reflect on what it was like to be an individual confused, disoriented, pained, or upset by the struggles with their sexual identity. While my own discovery and coming out was relatively pain free (until first:girl broke my heart), I have taken this day to listen to others and imagine what life is like for those past and present who have come out in awful situations. I think this is also a time to reflect on those we have lost because of their sexuality, whether death was self inflicted or not.
This morning, I couldn't imagine what it would be like to come out in a world where everyone hates you for being gay, where you feel isolated and abandoned by friends and family. I couldn't imagine what it would be liked to be pushed around, bullied, threatened, beaten up, mentally and physically abused.
I still can't imagine most of that. No one has ever beat me up because of my sexuality. But as of this afternoon, on this celebratory day for the LGBT community, I felt fear, despair, because someone didn't like that I was gay.
I was in the parking lot of the local supermarket when an old classmate recognized me. He was three years older than me, but he knew me well enough. He asked me if it was true, if I was a lesbian. "Yes, I am gay. Funny how things work out, isn't it?" was my witty Chatty Kathy reply. Instead of laughing, his whole face darkened, and he moved in so close I thought he might kiss me.
If you had seen the look in his eyes as he grabbed my arm, you would have felt that cold knot of fear slide into your throat too. He whispered that he couldn't do anything here and now, wouldn't get arrested over someone like me. "You better watch your step," he said. "I know you think you are winning now, but there are a lot of us who don't like what queers are doing to our country. Quit now, or you'll all end up in camps, and there won't be any homosexuals."
"Yeah, like the government will ever let that fly. Good luck with that." I should really shut my mouth in situations like this, but when I am backed into a for er, logic goes out the window. I am one of those people who spends too much money and then keeps spending because, fuck it, I've already used the credit card today.
Well obviously he didn't like that and I've got a nice abrasion on my arm to prove it. I can't remember his exact words, but the gist of it was that the government didn't need to know "officially" and there are many politians who would turn a blind eye if it was kept quiet enough.
He then told me that even though it's a small town, I shouldn't go out at night, because even though we all know each other, there are many who wouldn't try to save me if I were, say, raped in an alley.
He didn't hit me, didn't really hurt me, didn't even solidly threaten my life. But he shook me to my core. I think that is exactly what he wanted. He knows where I live, work, shop. Worst of all, he liked me in high school. We were friendly to each other, and he always called me funny and sweet. How can you like who I am, and then hate me for who I love? I think that scares me the most.
Update: December, one year ago, I wrote "Can fear actually make you a more confident person? Can you be so afraid that you put on a brave face, and through that facade become a more courageous person?"
Maybe this encounter has nothing to do with what I'm going through now, but maybe it does. Today, I am writing about first:girl, something I have never talked or written about with anyone. The secret is coming out, and my heartache is finally lessening with every paragraph.
This morning, I couldn't imagine what it would be like to come out in a world where everyone hates you for being gay, where you feel isolated and abandoned by friends and family. I couldn't imagine what it would be liked to be pushed around, bullied, threatened, beaten up, mentally and physically abused.
I still can't imagine most of that. No one has ever beat me up because of my sexuality. But as of this afternoon, on this celebratory day for the LGBT community, I felt fear, despair, because someone didn't like that I was gay.
I was in the parking lot of the local supermarket when an old classmate recognized me. He was three years older than me, but he knew me well enough. He asked me if it was true, if I was a lesbian. "Yes, I am gay. Funny how things work out, isn't it?" was my witty Chatty Kathy reply. Instead of laughing, his whole face darkened, and he moved in so close I thought he might kiss me.
If you had seen the look in his eyes as he grabbed my arm, you would have felt that cold knot of fear slide into your throat too. He whispered that he couldn't do anything here and now, wouldn't get arrested over someone like me. "You better watch your step," he said. "I know you think you are winning now, but there are a lot of us who don't like what queers are doing to our country. Quit now, or you'll all end up in camps, and there won't be any homosexuals."
"Yeah, like the government will ever let that fly. Good luck with that." I should really shut my mouth in situations like this, but when I am backed into a for er, logic goes out the window. I am one of those people who spends too much money and then keeps spending because, fuck it, I've already used the credit card today.
Well obviously he didn't like that and I've got a nice abrasion on my arm to prove it. I can't remember his exact words, but the gist of it was that the government didn't need to know "officially" and there are many politians who would turn a blind eye if it was kept quiet enough.
He then told me that even though it's a small town, I shouldn't go out at night, because even though we all know each other, there are many who wouldn't try to save me if I were, say, raped in an alley.
He didn't hit me, didn't really hurt me, didn't even solidly threaten my life. But he shook me to my core. I think that is exactly what he wanted. He knows where I live, work, shop. Worst of all, he liked me in high school. We were friendly to each other, and he always called me funny and sweet. How can you like who I am, and then hate me for who I love? I think that scares me the most.
Update: December, one year ago, I wrote "Can fear actually make you a more confident person? Can you be so afraid that you put on a brave face, and through that facade become a more courageous person?"
Maybe this encounter has nothing to do with what I'm going through now, but maybe it does. Today, I am writing about first:girl, something I have never talked or written about with anyone. The secret is coming out, and my heartache is finally lessening with every paragraph.
Apr 3, 2010
Lavendar Lens/ Part 2
I received a comment to my original Lavender Lens post and figured I should respond to it in part 2. This is the comment I received:
"My impression is that the standard word for a three-person relationship is "triad."
I feel like the losing-ground-for-gay-marriage argument is a dangerous one. If there's a majority shift away from monogamous relationships, wouldn't that indicate a problem with prioritizing marriage, and therefore prioritizing the recognition of monogamous queer relationships over multipartner relationships? Monogamous gay politics often takes a worrying "us first" attitude towards polyamorous lifestyles, just as cis gay politics sometimes does toward trans folks.
The marriage debate in general tends to do this -- many of the rights associated with marriage are things that people in nonmonogamous relationships want and deserve, and even that single people want and deserve. People sometimes neglect the need to challenge why it makes sense to be restricting these rights to people in particular kinds of relationships in the first place, in the process of trying to expand the category of relationships to which they're restricted -- and by doing so, they can leave out not only poly people but asexuals and single people."
Here's where this gets tricky. Let me just state here that I've never been part of a polyamorous relationship, so my views are relatively young and sheltered, and I am more than willing to listen to others' views and opinions to help enlighten myself on this topic.
When discussing the multi-partner relationships I had originally assumed there is a level of fidelity involved. I thought that, though there are more than two people in the relationship, sexual interactions would be pretty limited to the people in the relationship, somewhat like a group marriage. A group marriage has no main husband or wife with whom the others interact (polygamy), but rather everyone interacts equally(polyamory). I had imagined this scenario with love and lasting affection.
That is my ideal multi-partner relationship. A group marriage situation, where everyone is equal, individual, and safe. I feel like if I were in a relationship with two or three people and those individuals were having sex outside the relationship, I wouldn't be able to handle it. I would feel "cheated on" because that person is having sex outside the relationship we have established with however many people.
Is there a level of required fidelity in these types of situations? As of right now I don't know.
This is part of the reason why I'm reluctant to get into a marriage debate here. At what point can you give everyone equal rights to marriage without spreading the umbrella so far that people can cheat the government? Marriage is to bind. Marriage is to become family. Marriage is to show that you are the most important thing in each others' lives. So while I see a group marriage situation as one that definitely qualifies for the right to bind to each other, I'm not sure how like that example most polyamorous relationships are.
To be realistic, American mainstream society is more comfortable with gay monogamous relationships than they are of polygamy or polyamory. The Mormon sects who promote polygyny (which means one husband with multiple wives) have created a bad public image of having multi-partner relationships that fall under many catagories. To gain equal rights, I feel like gay marriage has to come first. It has to be a stable stepping stone before mainstream society will even think about the possibility of legalizing group marriage.
Expect more pros and cons as I mentally think this through, day after day.
To be continued...
"My impression is that the standard word for a three-person relationship is "triad."
I feel like the losing-ground-for-gay-marriage argument is a dangerous one. If there's a majority shift away from monogamous relationships, wouldn't that indicate a problem with prioritizing marriage, and therefore prioritizing the recognition of monogamous queer relationships over multipartner relationships? Monogamous gay politics often takes a worrying "us first" attitude towards polyamorous lifestyles, just as cis gay politics sometimes does toward trans folks.
The marriage debate in general tends to do this -- many of the rights associated with marriage are things that people in nonmonogamous relationships want and deserve, and even that single people want and deserve. People sometimes neglect the need to challenge why it makes sense to be restricting these rights to people in particular kinds of relationships in the first place, in the process of trying to expand the category of relationships to which they're restricted -- and by doing so, they can leave out not only poly people but asexuals and single people."
Here's where this gets tricky. Let me just state here that I've never been part of a polyamorous relationship, so my views are relatively young and sheltered, and I am more than willing to listen to others' views and opinions to help enlighten myself on this topic.
When discussing the multi-partner relationships I had originally assumed there is a level of fidelity involved. I thought that, though there are more than two people in the relationship, sexual interactions would be pretty limited to the people in the relationship, somewhat like a group marriage. A group marriage has no main husband or wife with whom the others interact (polygamy), but rather everyone interacts equally(polyamory). I had imagined this scenario with love and lasting affection.
That is my ideal multi-partner relationship. A group marriage situation, where everyone is equal, individual, and safe. I feel like if I were in a relationship with two or three people and those individuals were having sex outside the relationship, I wouldn't be able to handle it. I would feel "cheated on" because that person is having sex outside the relationship we have established with however many people.
Is there a level of required fidelity in these types of situations? As of right now I don't know.
This is part of the reason why I'm reluctant to get into a marriage debate here. At what point can you give everyone equal rights to marriage without spreading the umbrella so far that people can cheat the government? Marriage is to bind. Marriage is to become family. Marriage is to show that you are the most important thing in each others' lives. So while I see a group marriage situation as one that definitely qualifies for the right to bind to each other, I'm not sure how like that example most polyamorous relationships are.
To be realistic, American mainstream society is more comfortable with gay monogamous relationships than they are of polygamy or polyamory. The Mormon sects who promote polygyny (which means one husband with multiple wives) have created a bad public image of having multi-partner relationships that fall under many catagories. To gain equal rights, I feel like gay marriage has to come first. It has to be a stable stepping stone before mainstream society will even think about the possibility of legalizing group marriage.
Expect more pros and cons as I mentally think this through, day after day.
To be continued...
Mar 28, 2010
Multi-partner/LavenderLens
I read an article in The Lavender Lens, (a San Diego lesbian oriented magazine) that dealt with the lesbian relationship cycle. It's advice in breaking that cycle was to become part of a multi-person relationship.
I read this article over a month ago and am just now finding a fraction of the words I want to say. I am for this idea, I am against this idea. My own personal beliefs and my wish for mainstream society to accept LGBT relationships are at war with each other and themselves. This idea of a relationship is tearing me apart, mostly because it makes me question my foundational beliefs.
Do I want to get married? Am I a monogamous person? Can I love more than one person at a time? There are so many aspects of a multi-partner relationship that I can really see myself fitting into. Economically, it's a fabulous idea. However, mainstream American society has not been very accepting of multi-person relationships in the past.
(Can I just jump in here with how I'm reluctant to use the word threesome? It seems so sexual when I'm actually talking about a full relationship, more than just for sexual gratification. Does anyone have a better word for this?)
One of my biggest fears? I'm worried that by moving toward multi-partnerships, gay marriage would lose ground and be dismissed entirely. For those who are monogamous, a majority shift to multi-person relationships could ruin their chances of the happy marriage that they have always wanted.
I also have felt disgust for polygyny (the relationship consisting of one husband for multiple wives) in the past. While hopefully a multi-partner relationship in the queer community would promote equality among the parties involved, I worry that a weaker partner could feel exploited. Then there is jealousy, who loves who more, time spent together and apart.
I know I have felt extreme love for more than one person at a time before, but can a relationship with more than two parties really last? Would I want it to last? Do I believe in being in a relationship that would span the majority of my lifetime, or do I wish to experience a series of meaningful relationships with many different people?
The Lavender Lens proposed a model where each person in the relationship has their own bedroom in the house. It is a sanctuary. Permission would be asked to enter a room or engage in sexual activity. This part of the model makes me feel safe. Safe because I would have control over what sexual situations I want to participate and when. If one person is better at handling me while I'm emotional, I could go to her for comfort and cuddling. If I'm in a particular mood and crave a specific kind of sex, I could go to another person for that. If I wanted multiple partners, or for all of us to be together, I could request that they come into my room. They can say no, I can say no; everything is within our own personal control. I love the idea of that.
Expect more pros and cons as I mentally think this through, day after day.
To be continued...
Here is a link to Part 2.
I read this article over a month ago and am just now finding a fraction of the words I want to say. I am for this idea, I am against this idea. My own personal beliefs and my wish for mainstream society to accept LGBT relationships are at war with each other and themselves. This idea of a relationship is tearing me apart, mostly because it makes me question my foundational beliefs.
Do I want to get married? Am I a monogamous person? Can I love more than one person at a time? There are so many aspects of a multi-partner relationship that I can really see myself fitting into. Economically, it's a fabulous idea. However, mainstream American society has not been very accepting of multi-person relationships in the past.
(Can I just jump in here with how I'm reluctant to use the word threesome? It seems so sexual when I'm actually talking about a full relationship, more than just for sexual gratification. Does anyone have a better word for this?)
One of my biggest fears? I'm worried that by moving toward multi-partnerships, gay marriage would lose ground and be dismissed entirely. For those who are monogamous, a majority shift to multi-person relationships could ruin their chances of the happy marriage that they have always wanted.
I also have felt disgust for polygyny (the relationship consisting of one husband for multiple wives) in the past. While hopefully a multi-partner relationship in the queer community would promote equality among the parties involved, I worry that a weaker partner could feel exploited. Then there is jealousy, who loves who more, time spent together and apart.
I know I have felt extreme love for more than one person at a time before, but can a relationship with more than two parties really last? Would I want it to last? Do I believe in being in a relationship that would span the majority of my lifetime, or do I wish to experience a series of meaningful relationships with many different people?
The Lavender Lens proposed a model where each person in the relationship has their own bedroom in the house. It is a sanctuary. Permission would be asked to enter a room or engage in sexual activity. This part of the model makes me feel safe. Safe because I would have control over what sexual situations I want to participate and when. If one person is better at handling me while I'm emotional, I could go to her for comfort and cuddling. If I'm in a particular mood and crave a specific kind of sex, I could go to another person for that. If I wanted multiple partners, or for all of us to be together, I could request that they come into my room. They can say no, I can say no; everything is within our own personal control. I love the idea of that.
Expect more pros and cons as I mentally think this through, day after day.
To be continued...
Here is a link to Part 2.
Dec 7, 2009
Activism/Compassion
I made a better activist for LGBT issues as a straight high school student than I do now as a gay, capable, intelligent adult.
I had this moment today where I realized that I had stopped caring. I had stopped caring about marriage equality and social equality and everything else. I went to the rallys, sure, but not for the right reasons. I went because I was gay, because these are my people, because I owe it to this community to be there.
When I was in high school, I never even thought about liking girls. It just didn't even register that I could. "The small valley I grew up in didn't really have any gay people, so how could I be gay?"
But even as a heterosexual teenager, I followed gay marriage every moment of every day. I organized campaigns, I got kicked out of classes for protesting, demonstrating, arguing against my Mormon teachers.
I followed it because my heart broke for every couple who loved each other and couldn't get married. My heart broke for the lesbian couples where one person had to legally adopt the child that was rightfully their own. It broke for the gay couples who weren't allowed to adopt. For the couples that were ridiculed and discriminated against. For partners who weren't allowed to stay together when the other was dying in a hospital.
My heart broke for them. And now I know for us, for me. So why is it that when I became a part of the LGBT community my heart stopped breaking? I lost all compassion. I was so caught up in the fact that there were cute girls at the rallys, and so fed up with organizations asking me for money, so fed up that we were losing in every part of the country, that I think I just shut down. I stopped thinking about it all so that I could ignore it all and not feel the disappointment and the heartbreak.
I realized today that I didn't care anymore, and that made me feel awful. I felt cold, callous, and completely detached. I don't want to be detached. I don't want to forget that this isn't just about marriage equality. That term sounds so detached from the issue it is representing. Like it's all about wanting to be married. That's scratching the surface, to say the least. It's about the struggle that LGBT couples go through every day that straight people don't. About the injustice that we receive. About all the places that won't rent to gay couples, and the adoption agencies who refuse to trust us with children.
I remembered today, why I cared. Why this was so important to me. Even though my heart is breaking all over again, I'm glad that I'm not detached and jaded anymore.
I had this moment today where I realized that I had stopped caring. I had stopped caring about marriage equality and social equality and everything else. I went to the rallys, sure, but not for the right reasons. I went because I was gay, because these are my people, because I owe it to this community to be there.
When I was in high school, I never even thought about liking girls. It just didn't even register that I could. "The small valley I grew up in didn't really have any gay people, so how could I be gay?"
But even as a heterosexual teenager, I followed gay marriage every moment of every day. I organized campaigns, I got kicked out of classes for protesting, demonstrating, arguing against my Mormon teachers.
I followed it because my heart broke for every couple who loved each other and couldn't get married. My heart broke for the lesbian couples where one person had to legally adopt the child that was rightfully their own. It broke for the gay couples who weren't allowed to adopt. For the couples that were ridiculed and discriminated against. For partners who weren't allowed to stay together when the other was dying in a hospital.
My heart broke for them. And now I know for us, for me. So why is it that when I became a part of the LGBT community my heart stopped breaking? I lost all compassion. I was so caught up in the fact that there were cute girls at the rallys, and so fed up with organizations asking me for money, so fed up that we were losing in every part of the country, that I think I just shut down. I stopped thinking about it all so that I could ignore it all and not feel the disappointment and the heartbreak.
I realized today that I didn't care anymore, and that made me feel awful. I felt cold, callous, and completely detached. I don't want to be detached. I don't want to forget that this isn't just about marriage equality. That term sounds so detached from the issue it is representing. Like it's all about wanting to be married. That's scratching the surface, to say the least. It's about the struggle that LGBT couples go through every day that straight people don't. About the injustice that we receive. About all the places that won't rent to gay couples, and the adoption agencies who refuse to trust us with children.
I remembered today, why I cared. Why this was so important to me. Even though my heart is breaking all over again, I'm glad that I'm not detached and jaded anymore.
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