This or That?

My mind and my body are constantly at odds with each other.  When I go to the gym, my mind tells me that I should spend a decent amount of time doing cardio if I want to work on my heart rate and weight loss and then do some lifting to build muscle and such, but all my body can say is that it wants to go home and why would I hate running less just because it’s on a machine?  When I do homework, my mind looks at the words on the pages and wonders just how many times I’ll have to read Judith Butler before she starts making sense while my body complains that my legs hurt from the gym and that it’s hungry and wants to go to sleep.  My alarm goes off in the morning, and while my body tells me to hit the snooze button, my mind…actually, on that one, they totally agree.  Still, the point remains.  These two very important parts of me often give me different and conflicting messages.  So, which one should I listen to?  If your answer is “both, depending on the situation,” then you’ve already figured out part of the crux of this entry.

How does one know that one is bisexual?  The obvious answer is that they are attracted to both males and females.  How does one know that one is attracted to someone, though?  How should we define attraction?  If I listen to a person and hear all their wit and ideals and ways of seeing the world, does my enjoyment of them mean I am somehow attracted?  What about if I take one look at them and immediately wish we were doing something horizontally?  Of course, the answer to both questions is “yes” and I am so glad that all of us made it out of the seventh grade.  Still, this does not mean that we are equating such attractions with our actual term “bisexual”.  For some, you have to do something to define yourself as such.  Sure, that action can be a reflection of a feeling, but the act is what seals the deal (and earns the seal of approval).  If we break it down into less theoretical, pseudo-intellectual talk, what it all comes down to is this: should bisexuality be defined by the physical acts you do or the thoughts and emotions you think and feel?

My thesis?  Why can’t it be either or both?

Let’s start out with the physical.  Much like Olivia Newton-John (look it up, kids), when I say “psychical”, I’m talking about sexual.  It seems straightforward enough; wanting to be sexually intimate with members of both sexes would make one bisexual.  How about if you want to be sexually involved with someone regardless of biological sex?  There’s only one person involved besides yourself, so you’ve really only got that to go on (and that, unless you’re bringing others in with you, will look like gay/straight sex to the average person not inside your head).  And what about those sex acts?  If you are attracted to both men and women, then surely you will be willing to do the exact same things on both (note: please reread that sentence in the most sarcastic tone possible to infer actual meaning).  First of all, that’s not actually possible.  Sure, you can do equivalents of things based on what parts you’re dealing with, but in some cases, there are no equivalents; you’re dealing with two different types of bodies.  Second, why is there a measuring stick being put up to your pleasure?  So you like to do some things with men and different things with women.  That doesn’t make you any more or less bisexual, but instead a person who likes certain things with certain people and knows it; this is a person who knows how to be sexually comfortable.  The fact that someone wants to do things with both sexes at ALL should be the indicator of bisexuality.

Okay, let’s move on to the mental.  The mental can be a nice place to be in.  Whereas your physical acts may appear a certain way (straight or gay if two people are involved), your thoughts can fly in however many directions are possible, and you don’t need, um, physical evidence of them because they are your thoughts and that’s impossible (I’d get into things and actions being representations of thoughts and such but…no).  It can also be a complicated place.  If I say I feel bisexual but have done nothing physical to prove it, am I really bisexual?  First off, why are you trying to “prove” your sexuality?  Second, yes.  If you meet people of both sex (or like someone regardless of their sex) and you are romantically attracted to them based on wit, intelligence, charm, or one of the other million non-physical things one can be attracted to, of course you are really bisexual.  This is how you feel and who you like/love.  These are the people who make your heart skip a beat.  Being around them makes you feel different, makes you feel better.  If/when they leave you or you break up, you will mourn the relationship and your heart will break.  To say that those feelings, the thoughts you share with various people, the connections you have, don’t count as much towards your orientation label as your physical acts doesn’t make sense.  Doing so means putting the sexual above the emotional.  In reality, they are both common, often complimentary, and acceptable ways to express your orientation.

Some people like to define themselves by the things they do with their bodies.  Others like to define themselves by the things they think/feel in their minds.  None of these people are wrong, just like people aren’t wrong for falling somewhere in between or using a combination of the physical and the mental to define themselves (as well as other things).  Your sexuality is, by definition, yours.  If you identify as bisexual because you find yourself attracted to both sexes, my job (and the job of the world) should not be to try to make you justify or defend that label based on how I see the world or on what I consider a valid form of attraction.  Regardless on if we have the same views, we are part of the same pink, purple, and blue family.  We should be coming together to raise our flag; after all, this is the community we’ve got.

Nothing but a Number

Okay folks, let’s play a game.  Here are the rules.  I ask you a question, and you get a point if you get it right.  I’ll ask a bunch of questions and, by the end of this entry, if you have gotten them all right, you win!  Ready?  Let’s begin!  First question: how old was I when I came out?  If you said “how the hell should I know, you narcissist?”, give yourself a point.  Also, if you guessed twenty years old, you get a point, too.  I figured it out at a wedding.  I told everyone else a few months later.  Second question: how old was I when I should have realized that I had something to come out about?  If your answer was between the ages of seven and nineteen, that’s another point for you!  Oh, and you also get the point if you called me a narcissist again.  What can I say?  I’m a glutton for insults.

In all seriousness, though, there are several points in my life when a light bulb could have turned on.  When I came back from summer break and spent a great deal of the beginning of sophomore year talking about the “beauty of the female form” (my exact words) in the artistic sense only (and no, amazingly enough, I wasn’t lying), I think I should have been only a few months from coming out; instead, I just figured I was a straight girl with a new-found appreciation for the human body (those exists, y’know).  When I was sixteen and horribly jealous because my best friend had a boyfriend and I was in love with said friend, that could have been a moment.  When I kept meeting girls and thinking “I don’t know what it is about them, and I know I’ve never said anything to them, but I really just want to be their best friend,” that also could have been a moment of revelation.  Giving my second grade math teacher a valentine and then lamenting to her that I wish I could give her a valentine “the way the boys could” probably wouldn’t (and didn’t) raise any flags for me, but it could have (and probably did for the teacher).  I was seven.

Third question: how old does one have to be to realize their sexuality?  Answer?  Well, this one seems a bit more complicated.  For a long time (since I was a teenager, at least), the conventional wisdom was that, at some point, you grew into an older, wiser human being who realized that they were not actually attracted to the opposite sex.  You have have had doubts, but you bottled those up.  You may have been in denial, because surely if you denied hard enough things would change.  You may have not had a clue; having been so conditioned by heterosexual society left you acting hetereo simply because you knew no other way to be.  People like to go along with this logic.  I mean, consider some of the popular questions when coming out: “Are you sure?”  “Aren’t you too young to know?”  “You barely have any experience dating, so how can you know what you like?”  Based on all of the above, clearly there’s an age minimum; everything younger is just confusion.

Oh, oh wait.  No, there’s not.

The answer is there is no age requirement.  Why would there be?  Children are too young to know who they’re attracted to?  Explain to me, then, why we aren’t telling all those little girls who say they want to marry princes that they are too young to know if they want it to be a prince or a princess?  Why aren’t we stopping little boys from chasing girls on the playground because they have crushes?  They surely can’t know who they’re attracted to, right?  This isn’t about the kids; it’s about us.  Our three-year old says he has a crush on the boy next door and we don’t know what to do.  Our seven-year old calls her “best friend” her girlfriend and says she wants to marry her and it’s a big freaking deal.  We tell them they’re wrong, we tell them they’re too young, but why?  Kids show elements of their personality in the things that they do, and if they happened to pick up on their same-sex attraction, why would we tell them they’re wrong?  Do you know what message that sends?  It’s bad for a boy to like a boy or a girl to like a girl.  Gay kids aren’t just naturally gay; that shows up later in life (and don’t even get me started on the implications of what a bisexual child might be).  You’re telling them that they have a feeling, which you may feel is perfectly normal in adults, is somehow bad and should be hidden.  They can be a teacher or a writer or a doctor, but they can’t be gay; they’re too young to want that.

Fourth question: well, then, what should be do?  If you answered “be supportive and willing to listen and validate,” great job (or, y’know, if you had something like that).  What if they do get older and realize that they were mistaken?  To that I shout “so?”.  They had the chance to explore and figure things out without you judging them or making them feel bad about themselves.  Besides, what if they get older and realize they were right?  They had that much time to be validated by someone important in their lives.  Kids are cruel, you may say, so what if someone teases or bullies or worse?  Well, how much more well prepared would a child be to deal with horrible stuff like that if they had someone older and more compassionate that they could share such things with?  They can learn how to blend in if they want to until they’re ready for other people to know.  They can learn how to keep their heads up high if they want people to know.  Either way, they know they have support and someone to talk to who will stand up for them, which is so important.  You can be the most understanding person in the world, but if you’re shutting down instead of lifting up, kids will never know that.  And trust me, they need to know.

Kids come out.  That’s not a theory anymore; it’s the truth.  Some kids know who they are at a young age and aren’t afraid to share it with people.  Sure, this may open up some issues, but so does kids wearing glasses or being super smart or uncoordinated.  They can’t control any of these things, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t aware of them, and it doesn’t mean we can’t support and help them and show them that we love ALL parts of them.  There is a parent who writes the blog “Raising Queer Kids” who had a daughter come out at age seven.  She is now ten and still identifies as a lesbian.  She’s comfortable in her own skin and has a family that loves her.  When she gets older, maybe she’ll be able to bypass some of the confusion and angst because she’s been honest with herself for so long.  She might have more strength (and based on the blog, she does) to fight against those that want to bring her down.  She might be more open to share other things with her family because they were so open to accepting her as she is, even if part of that is her being young.  Final question, and this one’s for double the points: how beautiful is that?

Mirror, Mirror

I had this brilliant idea where I was going to wait until February to post a bunch of relationshipy/dating/romance/angsty/hopeful posts (as seems to have become the tradition around these parts of the internets), but I may or may not break that today.  Well, I mean, I don’t think I’m breaking it, but I’m fully aware that there’s someone out there who will disagree.  I hope you forgive me either way.

As we established a week and a half ago, it is indeed a new year.  As many fools do, I made some New Year’s Resolutions.  Usually I’m pretty hit-or-miss on these.  I don’t remember what my resolution was last year.  The year before was a series of experiments (which went awesomely!).  This year, mine are simple in wording and complicated in reality: 1) Work out at least three times a week (and ballroom dance doesn’t count) and 2) Do as many new things as possible.  You would think that “walking into romantic situations with a positive attitude” and “hoping for the best” would qualify as new things I should try, but apparently I’m in disagreement (because I have yet to do either).  There was perhaps a 12 hour period the other day when I was doing both, but then I made the mistake of thinking and messed that all up.  This post is the result of that.  Once again, I hope you forgive me.

Let’s pretend for the sake of this discussion that there are two people I am interested, one male and one female (I say pretend because there are not actually two people I am interested in…or are there?  YOU MAY NEVER KNOW).  These two hypothetical people fall more or less on opposite ends of the Kinsey scale (in other words, a straight male, a gay female).  Now, let’s say that either of these people wanted to come hang out (to watch TV, to play video games, to discuss the meaning of Charlie Brown…any non-sexual activity) in my room.  Theoretically, I should either not be worried (it’s just a room), very nervous (it has my bed!), or something in between for both of them, right?  Like, my level of nervousness should be the same for both sexes?  Well, guess what?  It’s not.  Like, not even close.  Once we get past the “I need to clean” and “no really, it has my bed”, I have absolutely no problem with a girl of interest being in my room in its current state.  A boy, on the other hand, would probably cause a minor panic and a rethinking of things.  Why?

My room is really gay, you guys.

Like, REALLY gay.

I’m not just talking a rainbow flag and a copy of Kissing Jessica Stein here.  I have books on bisexuality and female homosexuality.  A rainbow cross hangs on my wall.  When I wake up, I see Naya Rivera’s beautiful face looking back.  When I go to sleep, it’s under that Anyone But Me poster (the image of which I don’t own, but you should go buy).  I usually don’t notice until someone points it out or I feel like I have to “straighten up” for some reason, but I own a lot of things that scream queer.  This, of course, makes perfect sense, as I am queer.  That’s what makes this ultimately not a romantic issue; it’s a cultural one first.  I fit into queer culture.  I like queer culture.  It seems to like me.  What does that mean for my future partner?

Yes, ultimately I’d like to be constantly surrounded by people who “get it.”  It would be nice to meet someone and hit it off and not have to explain to them some random joke from The L Word or explain what Brittana is (or Klaine, for that matter).  But, y’see, that’s the beauty of being bisexual; you function in the queer and the straight world and, at some point, you’re probably going to be interested in someone who only functions in one of those.  It’s not a character flaw by any means; you do what you do on a daily basis and you interact in the culture that fits.  The thing is when you’re queer, regardless of your Kinsey number, you have to interact in both the queer and the straight world, much like blacks, hispanics, asians, and other people of color in the U.S. function in the “white” world.  When you’re the minority, that’s just how you have to role.  When you aren’t, though, it becomes a choice, sometimes a choice that some people don’t have.  Why would I hold that against them?  My worry, however, is that they may hold it against me, or, on a different note, dismiss me.

There are two ways I can see this going wrong (and one obvious way I can see it going well).  First, a guy could like me, accept my sexual orientation (which I never lie about), but not want to be constantly surrounded by queer stuff.  That’s his prerogative, and mine would be to show him the door.  This is a part of who I am, and if being surrounded by it literally makes you uncomfortable, then we wouldn’t have worked out anyway.  I’m not really bothered by that idea.  Second, a guy could like me, accept my sexual orientation, look at all the stuff and not find a place for himself.  If everything is shiny happy rainbows, where does the straight fit in?  Yeah, I SAID bisexual, but seriously, does a straight guy belong here?  I, of course, would say yes, but what would he say?  When we bisexuals are open and honest about the worlds we live in, how does that affect the people we’re interested in?  If a straight person doesn’t know how they’d fit into your blended world, is that anyone’s fault?  Just a bad match?  I mean, on the one hand, you want someone who gets all walks of your life, but on the other hand, sometimes you just like someone.  What do you do?

After I thank my lucky stars that this whole situation is hypothetical (right?), I look around at all the stuff I have.  Even if I did take things down or hide them, I don’t have the space to put them anywhere.  I wouldn’t do that, anyway.  I don’t take my stuff down for my friends or my mom, I’m not taking it down for a boy.  I don’t take my football stuff down for girls (and, if I ever find that Mark Ballas poster, I’m not taking that down, either).  I am a woman of two worlds, and I’m not going to deny that.  Sure, it doesn’t make me positive that everyone is going to understand that, but more than the acceptance of others, I need the acceptance of myself.  I have to be comfortable that I straddle two worlds.  My room is a representation of that.  Sure, it may be really gay, but so what?  That’s just how its owner likes it.  If you can get behind that, too, then maybe things will work out, girl or boy.  Or you could, y’know, just mail me a pink, purple, and blue flag.  That would fit in just nicely.

Tell Me Why

Happy New Year, friends!  Glad you made it to the other side.  Was your New Year’s Eve celebration wild?  Mild?  Did you chill?  Did you party?  Did you find someone to kiss at midnight?  Did you rock on to the stuff on TV?  Did you pass out before the clock struck midnight?  Any of the above?  Awesome, that sounds like fun.  I did some of those things, too, and it was a blast, but now it’s 2012 and it’s a weekday, which means it’s time to get back to business.  Let me tell you, at this moment, I’ve got some serious business that I’d like to attend to.  You see, a while ago, I wrote a post dedicated to my fear of Michele Bachmann as a person with power, and I think that’s pretty reasonable.  Thankfully, Michele’s losing campaign momentum and is, at the moment, not the biggest worry.  New stupidity, however, has come up, and his name is New Gingrich.  I could make an entry that was just a list of all the ridiculous things he’s said and done over the years, but right now I’d like to focus on one thing in particular.  According to Newt, some people can choose to be gay.  You know, like it’s not that you’re born this way, but rather that you had a say in the decision.  It really does take a number of factors, he thinks.  If you have some genetic traits and if you are raised a certain way, then you may get the golden key to choose if you’d like to be gay.  When asked if you could choose to be straight, he responded “look, people choose to be celibate.”   It’s 2012 now, so let’s begin the year with a round full of fun questions, shall we?  Let’s go!

First off, Newt, what the hell are you talking about.  Homosexuality is a choice, but only in certain circumstances?  Like, if you have certain genes, you can choose to be gay?  Is that your actual argument?  Because if that’s the case, I’m actually going to give you a pat on the back for getting it rig…half righ…a quarter ri…a little right.  Evidence is coming up that there is a biological reason (a combination of genetics and other things) that people have various sexual orientations.  Also, if you live in a household filled with homophobes, bigots, or people telling you that homosexuality is the worst, you are probably going to make a choice about revealing/acting on your same-sex desires.  So, good job, Newt, you got that far.  Now, here’s why you’re wrong: even if that person made that choice, they’d still be queer.  You’re not choosing who you like, man, you’re choosing how you act on it.  That doesn’t take away from the pangs in your heart or that tingle you feel whenever that special person walks into a room.  What you’re basically suggesting is that we should start (or continue to) make rules and laws not based on who people really are, but who they choose to be.  Because gay people have a choice, right?  They chose to act like this, to act on those thoughts, and so they’re what, not worthy now?  Clearly, they should’ve just ignored those, right, Newt?

If that’s the case, Newt Gingrich, tell me about your gay thoughts.

I’m dead serious.  You’re a happy, healthy straight man, Newt, so you must’ve made the right choice, eh?  Tell me about it.  Tell me about those thoughts you had in the middle school locker room of that one tall boy with the…was it brown or blonde hair?  Black, red even?  Do you remember looking at your favorite athlete in those tight pants or short shorts and wondering what it would be like to get into those?  Ever doze off during meetings and imagine playing “cowboy” with someone across the aisle?  It’s okay, Newt, you can tell me.  I’m supportive of your choice.  We here at PPB are all supportive…as long as you don’t turn around and act like a self-righteous hater.  Oh wait, you do.  Also, what’s that, Newt?  You don’t have the genetic or environmental factors to be gay?  You’ve never had that struggle in the locker room or had to shut off those thoughts during meetings?  Oh, so that means you have no idea how it feels, then.  You just flat-out have no idea what this choice you propose would be like since, y’know, you don’t have the right factors at play.  Oh yeah, and you’re also not a geneticist or any kind of doctor or scientist.  Let’s see, that mean that your beliefs on homosexuality aren’t supported by your personal or professional experience (I’m leaving religion out of it right now because, in this argument, he leaves it out, too).  In other words, you don’t know what you’re talking about.

But wait, let’s give the man a chance to redeem himself.  After all, there was another question put on the table.  Can a person choose to be straight, Newt?  Looks like, once again, you almost, kind of, maybe got something right.  You said that people can choose to be celibate.  Correct, yes they can.  A gay person can choose not to participate in sexual intercourse.  So can a straight person.  You said a true statement; gold star for you.  Too bad you didn’t answer the question.  Choosing to be celibate is not the same as choosing to be straight.  That’s like saying choosing to shave is the same as choosing to be human; you’re human no matter what (and humans have hair on their bodies), but you get to choose whether to accept that state or do something about it.  You don’t just look in the mirror and decide that your eyebrows were never there.  People can choose not to have sex.  The ocean is wet.  Anything else you’d like to enlighten us with?  Or, have you enlightened us?  In not answering the question, are you saying that queer people can’t turn straight, like it’s not a choice?  They can choose not to act on their sexual desires, but they’ll never get to choose to be actually straight?  Am I reading between too many lines, or is that a possible thing?  Because that would be impressive if you thought that.  It would also mean that you want to deny rights to people who are not like you and are not harming you because you consider them “special” somehow and treating them like you treat everybody else is giving them “special” rights.  You’re not even working behind the “they can change” mask; you’re just flat out suggesting that there are two classes of people.  Yeah, because that’s what it says in the constitution.  Or, y’know, maybe this is all wishful thinking on my part.  Maybe you just actually didn’t answer the question.  You weren’t suggesting or implying anything, you just didn’t want to go on the record saying that you can or cannot choose to be straight.  If that’s the case, then I have one word for you: coward.

I’m clearly not a politician.  I’ve never run for federal, state, or local office.  I have run for positions in clubs and for my class Vice President, and I won those, but that doesn’t feel like it counts.  I am, however, a voter.  I love voting.  I love keeping up on issues so I know who to vote for.  I was never in my right mind going to vote for Newt Gingrich, and I’m going to guess you weren’t either.  Why is that?  Well, for starters, beyond his economic and foreign policy ideas, he has this wishy-washy notion of who I am.  He thinks people have genetic and environmental factors that give them the possibility to maybe be gay.  He thinks it’s a choice they make.  He doesn’t say whether being straight is a choice because, well, that would involve answering a question?  He’s clearly not going to get into the idea that someone could “choose” both (like us bi and pansexuals).  Based on that alone, I’m not voting for him.  I will say thank you, however, because the guy is doing me a favor.  If this is the kind of convoluted half logic that’s being used to justify bigotry, I almost don’t need to write my argument or make up jokes about you.  You, Newt, have done the work for me.

It’s Okay Not To Be Okay

This time last year, I sang the praises of a very unlikely hero.

Hot...and dangerous.

This year, I figured I might want to focus on someone a little less…how do I put it…crazy looking?

Clearly, I failed.

Okay, that might have been a lie.  Follow me anyway, folks.

Allow me to introduce to you my newest musical obsession: Jessie J.  She is British.  She is Bisexual.  She is Bisexy.  She wrote the only Miley Cyrus song you will ever admit to liking.  She sings songs about being your awesome self and being so awesomely masculine that it turns your lipstick to spikes.  Wait, what?  Shh…just watch.

So, besides wanting these women to bench press me, why do I like this so much?  Well, first off, because it’s been ten minutes and I’ve already thought of three different meanings of “do it like a dude” that aren’t sexual.  Second, how many people are out there telling you to be (as a girl) you bad ass, hard ass self and not to apologize?  To cement my love, let’s watch one more, shall we?

That literally requires no explanation, but I’ll give one anyway.  A song about needing to stop torturing yourself for not being “perfect” and that it can be hard to be yourself.  What I really take away is one line in the chorus: it’s okay not to be okay.

How many people have told you that?  In a world where people are constantly trying to beat you down, beat you up, throw you out, you don’t hear that message very much.  It’s all about being average and normal and sticking to the status quo.  Turn on any Republican presidential debate and you’ll hear them spout some nonsense about how repealing Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell is leading to the utter destruction of our military (sidenote: no, it’s not), or that hating us is just the best campaign strategy (sidenote: no, it’s not) or that we all have the choice to be “normal.”  People have this idea in their heads that there’s a right way to be and a wrong way to be, and if you don’t fit into it, well, you’re screwed.  You’re cursed.  You’re damned.  You’re a whole bunch of things that they have no business bestowing you with.  Meanwhile, if you are exactly who you are, guess what?  The world doesn’t stop turning.  They keep saying that you need to be their version of “okay”?  Well, if that means sacrificing your true self, then frankly, I’m with Jessie.  It’s okay not to be okay.

Perhaps I’m not being clear right now.  I mean, what does “okay” even mean?  Am I saying that it’s okay to be weird?  Yep.  Am I saying it’s okay to differ from the norm?  Why yes, yes I am.  Am I saying that it’s okay to be crazy?  In a lot of circumstances, sure, just as long as it’s a safe kind of crazy (and if it’s the kind of crazy that should actually be called “mental illness”, then it’s okay to talk to someone and get help).  It’s okay to be a girl who shaves her head and wears tank tops and cargo shorts and can bench press a blog writer.  It’s okay to look like that and (gasp!) not be attracted to women.  It’s also okay to look like that and be attracted to women.  It’s okay to wear pink and high heels and be a boy just as much as it’s okay to wear all that and be a girl.  It’s okay to realize you’re trapped in the wrong body and want to do something about it.  It’s okay to realize that you don’t subscribe to whatever gender nonsense people keep going on about and refuse to be labeled as male or female.  It’s okay to feel one way sometimes and another way at other times.  It’s okay to like boys.  It’s okay to like girls.  It’s okay to like both.  It’s okay to like neither.  It’s okay to like everyone.  It’s okay to like yourself.

One of the funniest gay marriage discussions I’ve ever participated in involved two sisters under the age of 10.  One of them asked me if I had a wife or a husband.  The elder one immediately corrected her sister: “You mean husband.  She can’t have no wife.  That’s lesbian!”  I quickly praised her (she was right, that IS lesbian) and added a “so?” to the equation.  They looked at me strangely.  “What’s wrong with lesbians?” I asked.  They told me it was wrong.  I asked why.  They said because it was two girls.  Once again, “so?”  They repeated that it was wrong.  I asked why again.  They said because it was two girls.  This went on for five minutes before I told them that I wasn’t going to argue with them if they could produce one real reason why it was wrong (instead of just going in a circle).  They had to go home before they ever could.  This is the debate I feel like the world is having.  People are saying there’s something inherently wrong with other people.  Do they have facts to back that up?  They claim they do, but those are mostly made up.  Do they have popular opinion on their side?  Actually, not anymore, they don’t.  Do they even have religion to fight with?  They claim they do, but so much of that is wrapped up in history and context that, honestly, only an educated scholar should even be attempting to unravel it (and even then they risk hubris by claiming they fully understand its original intent).  So, basically, it’s just a bunch of people saying that something is wrong for the sake of being wrong.  That’s…stupid.  If that’s your idea of not okay, then yeah, once again, it’s okay not to be okay.

The New Year is just around the corner, and I want you all to know something: you’re amazing.  Not because you’re rainbow or rainbow supportive.  Not because you read this blog (but it helps, so keep doing it).  Not even because you stand for something.  You’re amazing because you’re here.  You’re amazing because you exist.  There is something about you that shines, I just know it.  Maybe someday I’ll meet you and be able to see it.  If not, that’s okay, because there are people around you who can see it just fine.  Find those people.  Be with them.  Be not okay together.  Don’t listen to the people on TV or at school or in worship who try to make you feel inferior.  Love are you love, be as you be, do as you do.  Have a Happy New Year.  See you in the future.

It’s My Life

While I was online the other day, my little cousin (well, little compared to me; he’s sixteen) messaged me on Facebook (as he likes to do when he’s on break from school).  He wanted to know what I was doing for Christmas.  I told him that I was doing the same thing I do every year: try to take over the world working the Christmas Eve services at my home church.  Even through his internet teenspeak he seemed sad.  He had (for no real reason) hoped that I would come down and visit the rest of my family for the holidays.  I told him I couldn’t afford it.  He said that maybe I could visit during the next year.  I told him yes, maybe.  All of that was true.  It was also a lie by omission.  I really can’t afford to fly down to see them.  I also don’t want to.

Allow me to explain how my family works.  Off in the big city is me, here at school with the greatest people alive.  Back in my hometown is my mom, bringer of love and confusion and tasty, tasty food.  My hometown also contains a number of my friends, all of whom I love and can’t wait to see again.  Then, spread out throughout the country, is the rest of my mom’s side of the family (my dad’s family is still at home, but I see them less than I’d like to and my dad, well, never if I can help it).  Most of them congregate around the same area, which is A) far away from me, and B) not in my favorite part of the country.  As such, I have not visited in several years.  It’s not that I don’t love them; it’s just that it costs a LOT of money to fly down there, and I’m fairly certain once I’m there I’ll be stuck in the same situations I was as a kid, still with no real means of escape.  I feel honor bound to go down there, but I really just wish they would come up here instead.

I love my family.  I really do.  I just don’t get my family.  Whenever I call and hear stories about what’s going on, I shake my head because it’s the same stuff that was happening when I was eleven.  I’m twenty-six now.  What’s more, I don’t really think my family will get me.  My mom barely does, but I’d be lying if I said she didn’t try, and I respect her for that.  Sure, she’ll never be a PFLAG mom, but she has come a long way in the “actually giving a damn” department.  She’s my mother, though.  I see and talk to her all the time.  She’s obligated to me.  The rest of them?  They aren’t.  They’re my family and they’re supposed to love me, but if I show up with my friends from politically correct liberal hippie school, spouting off ideas about heterosexism and swooning over Tina Fey and Naya Rivera, they’re going to look at me like my head is on backwards (well, some of the men might be with me on Naya).  I’m not out to any of them (besides the one cousin) and I don’t feel a need to come out.  I have my life, they have theirs, and so far, that’s been working out pretty well.  Why would I ruin that by opening myself up to unnecessary judgment?  And yes, I know that I’m always going on about coming out and how you should, but I’m also convinced there’s a special circle in hell where you just spend your entire time coming out to your family and having them shun you.  In other words, these are the people you can really wait to tell until you’re ready (or until you’re engaged to a person of the same sex.  You should probably tell them then).

As a queer person, I’ve set up some very nice families in the places I have lived.  People who love me just the way I am.  People who I don’t hide elements of my life from.  People I don’t feel the need to explain myself to.  So I was in a play and played a character in drag?  Awesome!  So I need advice on how to talk to the girl I have a crush on?  Here ya go!  So I’m writing a paper on heteronormativity and biphobia in the media?  Here’s some books!  That’s part of being a queer person; you find people who know and support you and your “lifestyle.”  It’s not a matter of having to explain your rainbow side, however it may manifest (and I’m hoping for all our sakes that not every queer person wants to write papers on heteronormativity), it’s just about acceptance and love.  That’s not something every person gets.  That’s not something every family gets.

Even simple things can be a big deal to people who don’t get it.  Why are you wearing that rainbow bracelet?  What is that weird sticker on your computer?  What is that movie about?  Note that these are all things that anyone, gay, straight, bi, whatever, could reasonably partake it.  Still, answering those questions will only lead to more questions, one of which might involve you making a decision to come out (or not), most of which might be frustrating.  There are families out there who know all this stuff, who would hear an explanation and either not care or be proud.  There are also families that might not understand why you wouldn’t just want to get “traditionally” married, why a straight person would involve themselves in gay rights, or even why you would be so open with your sexuality.  Fighting the good fight is great and worthy and all, but do you really want to do it with your relatives during the holidays when you can’t easily escape?

I’ll visit my family…eventually.  I will.  I’ll even answer all those questions someday.  Right now, however, I want to be happy.  I want to go home to my mom who makes the best macaroni and cheese in the world and borrow her car to go to the gay bar on New Years and have the only comment be “be careful and drive safely.”  I want to see my friends and tell them all about my new life and the new family I’m forming at school.  I want to continue eating Christmas cookies and latkes and sipping cider and eggnog and dancing about to Lady Gaga (who, oddly enough, my mother both likes and respects!).  I have worked hard to build a life for myself where I can be happy and, after a lot of struggle, I finally have.  I am happy.  My family, bless them all, will have to wait for another day for me to challenge that.

Beauty in the World

It is so incredibly easy to be negative.  Hell, I do it all the time.  There are plenty of completely valid reasons to do so, too.  In the past week or so, I’ve really been feeling that.  I want to make a difference in the world, but I don’t know how to do that.  I want to be out to everyone, but my mom has friends who don’t know about my sexual orientation and I’m scared of losing the approval I’ve spent 26 years grooming.  I want to preach the way I want to to who I want to, but I’m scared of what some of the higher-ups in my Church will think/say/do to me.  There’s a lot of stuff going on.  Maybe you’ve felt that way, too.  People are putting a lot of pressure on you.  You’re putting a lot of pressure on yourself.  I’ve said a lot about coming out on this site, and I’ve said a LOT about being yourself, but what I don’t say enough is that it isn’t easy.  People are tricky.  Work is tricky.  Girls are tricky.  Boys are tricky.  Life is tricky.  How the hell are you supposed to keep your head up when life just keeps forcing it down?

Sometimes, life just sends you reminders of why all the stupid stuff you go through is worth it.  I feel almost embarrassed admitting this (because it’s kind of sappy and sentimental, and I can’t ever admit to being either of those things.  Seriously, an alarm goes off when I do and cops show up), but a simple yet big thing came to me the other day.  Someone I know, who I’ve talked to enough to be comfortable enough, came out to me.  Several things ran through my brain, besides the obvious stuff of how to handle a coming out without being a complete asshole.  As with most of the coming out stories I’ve been fortunate to be a part of, I feel really honored that this person would trust me with that knowledge.  What struck me about this particular conversation, however (and I swear I’m not trying to sound self-congratulatory, I promise), is that part of the coming out was a “thank you” for writing this blog.  That floored me.  Perhaps I shouldn’t be surprised that someone reads this and finds it helpful, but I don’t know…it affects me.  It affects me a great deal.

I talk about coming out a lot.  A LOT.  I talk about it coming out to your parents, to your friends, to strangers.  I talk about it being a political move.  I talk about not coming out if it’s not the right time or you feel unsafe.  I talk about it a lot because it’s a big deal.  You’re saying to someone else (or even just yourself) that you are a certain way, and that some part of you is okay with that.  You don’t have to be 100% comfortable with your sexuality when you first come out (Lord knows I wasn’t), but you feel that there’s a part of you that shouldn’t hide anymore.  That’s fantastic, and it’s a big freaking deal, and it should be celebrated.  You get your own mental parade and band or whatever.  The thing is, sometimes you forget that it’s a big deal.  When you’re out for a while, it doesn’t seem like you have a parade or anything; it’s just life.  It gets so mundane that you don’t even realize the beauty in the fact that it CAN get mundane.  How comfortable does one have to be for this not to be a big deal anymore?  Know what we call that?  PROGRESS!

When I write this, I feel like I’m just being myself.  I’m expressing a part of myself that, at this point, feels second nature, like putting on pants or stretching in the morning.  I want to say something, so I do.  Maybe people will read it, maybe they won’t.  I hope to make a difference, but I forgot about that in the midst of finals and flirting and worrying about the future.  Then, someone (like my friend) comes around and nonchalantly says that I’ve been helpful.  Something I do, as an extension of all the dorky stuff I do in the world, has helped someone in some way.  This is why I’m out.  Beyond the revelations, beyond the personal parades, I want to serve as an example that people in the world can be out and okay.  You can be scared, or nervous, or lonely, or a million other things, but you certainly are not alone.  There are people down the street, in your school, in your community, on the internet, wherever, that are just like you.  They think like you.  They feel like you.  They looked at someone of the same sex and had the same “uh oh” feeling you do.  They looked at someone of the opposite sex and realized that that feeling was a little more complicated than previously thought possible.  You can be someone who shows others that this can indeed be awesome.  I don’t know about you, but that’s part of the reason I’m out.

I’ve said come out because it’s helpful for the world to see that queers exist.  I’ve said come out because it shows politicians that we matter.  I’ve said come out because of personal pride. Well, here’s another reason: people need to hear this!  You are queer in this world and that is a beautiful thing, so why not share that beauty with others?  Why not celebrate your awesomeness?  There are people out there who don’t know that other queers exist, especially in their school/college/city, and here you are, a person they could talk and relate to.  Simply by being honest with yourself, you can help another person.  Why in the hell aren’t we celebrating that?  We need to buy balloons and streamers and noisemakers for that!  Most people work super hard to make a difference, and here we are, GLBT people in the world, holding our heads up high and having an impact.  The more people know, the safer it becomes for others to be out.  The more people know, the more people know who to talk to.  The more people know, the better life can be.  Personally, I feel very humbled that anything I do or say in life has or could help someone.  I also feel like a dork for being so thrilled by this.  Oh well, I can come out as that, too.

You’re So Damn Hot

Sometimes, interesting revelations happen while you’re dreaming.  Sometimes, they happen on the bus or subway, maybe while you’re on a walk, maybe while you’re on your bike.  Sometimes they happen in the deafening quiet; sometimes they happen in chaos and clamoring.  Last week, my interesting revelation happened in what I consider to be a fairly embarrassing set of circumstances: while I was extraordinarily drunk.  When I woke up the next day and recalled the conversation I had, my initial reaction was self-disgust.  I got over that because, when I actually sat down and unpacked what I had said, it didn’t seem quite so bad as I originally felt.  What did this magic revelation have to do with, you may ask?  Objectification.

You see, I sleep with a poster of Naya Rivera hanging on my wall.  It’s not over my bed (that space is reserved for pictures of my hometown and my beloved Anyone But Me poster), but it is near it, at an angle that I can see it right when I wake up.  I really like my poster.    While I was, as I mentioned before, completely smashed, one of my friends called another out on objectifying women.  It’s noteworthy that the objector was a man and the whistle-blower was a woman.  She mentioned having said the same thing to another friend (I honestly don’t remember which, not that it matters) who was female, and in my brilliance I began some stupid diatribe about the poster on my wall and having to train myself not to objectify women.  I even used it as an example; in the picture, Naya is fully clothed and just sort of looking.  Know what?  I’ll just show you.

Compared to her FHM shot, this seems tame.

Drunk me was very proud of this poster.  Sober me cringed at the thought of talking to someone about how I had to learn not to objectify women.  How the hell is that a learned behavior?  What in the world is wrong with me that, as a woman, I had to figure that out?  Honestly, I think I’m just ashamed that I admitted it to anyone.  Truth be told, we’re all humans and, whether we like it or not, we all objectify other people.  The second you look at someone and think about doing something with them before even speaking to them, you’ve objectified them.  I think the bad part comes with what you do after that thought.  Do you indeed talk to them?  Do you find out about them as a person?  Do you hide in the corner, afraid that you might not be cool enough to hold their interest?  Or, do you keep staring, keep lusting, keep forgetting the human part of that person?  If the last part is your answer (and I’m fairly certain more of us could say that than will), then that’s true objectification and that’s where it gets problematic.

What makes me glad about my drunken confession is that, no matter how dumb I sounded, I stated that I was a woman who has objectified women.  That’s kind of a big deal.  When people think of objectification, most think of men.  Images from Maxim or waitresses at Hooters or the hip-hop obsession with dating strippers comes to mind.  Folks don’t normally think of women as being able to objectify, and when they do, it’s considered funny or okay.  A hot guy walks in and a woman treats him like he’s counting down to be her sex slave?  Well, what normal heterosexual guy wouldn’t want that?  Plus, I mean, we all know women like that don’t exist, right?  And so what if that girl is treating that other girl like a piece of meat; it’s two girls, so it’s totally, fine?

I know that sometimes the Internet has a hard time with this, so I’m just going to make myself clear: that was SARCASM.

What kind of weird, sexist, backwards standard are we being held to?  To assume that women cannot objectify is to assume that it’s all and only about privilege and the male gaze.  It’s not.  It’s about a loss of humanity.  It’s about viewing someone as something that can serve or please you instead of as a whole.  When you look at someone and can only see what they can do for you, you’re not really seeing them.  To assume women can’t do that is wrong and sexist in a strange way.  Part of the beauty of equality is that we all have equal opportunities to do the bad stuff as well as the good.

Back to my conversation of shame, why DID I have to train myself not to objectify women?  Truth be told, I had to learn the very lesson I just spoke of.  As a woman, I can stand on the mountaintop and proclaim my wonder and glory all I want, but I still have to admit that, more than once, I haven’t felt very powerful.  When I went out alone and watched the beautiful men and women around me, it didn’t feel wrong not to think of them as anything besides beauty because, well, I had no power.  How could I objectify anyone if I barely felt like a person myself?  I don’t feel that way anymore.  People are people, no matter how beautiful they are or how strong I feel.  They’re people no matter what sex or gender I am and, even if I feel powerless, I do have the power to act as if they are not.  I don’t get a pass because of my sex or even my orientation.  I can choose to be respectful.  We all can.

Sad to say, there’s a pretty good chance that I’m never going to meet Naya Rivera, much less make out with her.  Same goes for Eric Dane and Missy Higgins and all those other people out in the world I find extremely attractive.  Know what I can do?  I can watch their shows and buy their music and actually remember that these people are human beings with lives and feelings that I know very little about.  I can respect them and their talent and also admit that they’re hot.  It’s not about denying attraction, but rather seeing the whole.  In regards to normal people (who are also often beautiful), it’s about perspective.  Just because you’re a girl doesn’t mean that you can’t deny the complete person.  So…don’t.  Don’t assume women aren’t capable of things, and don’t treat people like objects.  The end.  If you have to remind yourself of any of that sometimes, then okay, just remind yourself.  I was mortified when I realized that I had admitted to bad behavior, but you know what?  I’m glad that I also admitted that I saw something in me that was wrong, named it, and worked against it.  Just, know your power, and know that you have the power to choose how you act.  As for Naya, she’s staying up there.  She has one of the few good storylines on one of my favorite shows, and that alone is enough to make me smile in the morning.  Here’s hoping it makes her smile, too.

Rumour Has It

So, last week was my birthday, so I decided to write my annual birthday post.  That meant postponing what I really wanted to talk about for a week.  Do you know how hard it is to wait to talk about something that is really bothering you, guys?  It’s like having a bee in your bonnet, except the bee is in your brain.  And you know what?  My head hurts from all the stinging.

Also, because I’m nice, I’m giving a double warning.  I will, once again, be talking about Glee, because let’s face it, it’s the gayest show on television.  Also, if you like Glee and haven’t seen the latest episode (Mash Off is the title), then you probably want to stop reading and go watch it now.  Seriously, here is the link.  Go do it and come back.  I can wait.

Okay, all caught up?  Good.  Want to take a guess as to what I’m going to talk about?  Oh, Finn and Santana.  For those who don’t watch Glee and want to know what the hell I’m talking about, Finn and Santana are on rival glee clubs (don’t ask), and Santana is a closeted lesbian with A) a girlfriend, and B) a penchant for trash talking.  She does some MMA style insulting to Finn and, to try to knock her down a peg, announces to a crowded hallway that she should just “come out of the closet.”  This gets overheard by another student, who tells her uncle, who puts this information in an ad campaign against Santana’s cheerleading coach because the coach is running for office (once again, don’t ask).  Santana finds out that she’s about to be outed to, oh, the whole city, including her parents (who she didn’t have a chance to tell yet), and, of course, freaks out.  Caught up for real this time?  Good.

Now, let me tell you why Finn was wrong.

Well, first, let me get a few things clear.  Bullying is never okay.  It is hurtful and damaging.  I’m a teacher and have been one for several years, and one of my personal missions is to help any kid who needs help with bullies.  And yeah, Santana calling Finn names, that could be considered bullying.  In real life, it absolutely would be.  In Magic Glee world, I’m not quite as sure.  Here’s what I do know, though: outing Santana in the hallway was also wrong, perhaps a form of bullying in its own right.  In real life, outing someone before they’re ready can be damaging to their psyche and possibly their ability to function at school and at home.  In Magic Glee world…oh wait, the same is still true.  In fact, last season involved a boy leaving the school because he received death threats for being gay.  That kid is the step-brother of Finn.  So, y’know, maybe he should’ve known better.

Let’s expand this to the topic in general.  Some people think Santana deserved what she got because she was being so mean, and if it had been anything else, I would agree.  But it wasn’t anything else; it was her sexuality which she is very insecure about and secretive about and hadn’t actually told anyone about (Finn, in his only moment of not stupidity, figured it out).  What about in the real world, though?  Are we allowed to use someone’s sexuality against them if they’re doing us wrong?  I’m going to go ahead and come down on the “no” side of that.  It’s not a playable option, or at least it shouldn’t be.  Yes, I’ve heard the argument that politicians who spout anti-gay rhetoric and are closeted should be an example.  Sometimes I agree with that, sometimes I don’t.  It’s another entry entirely.  But for average, everyday people, you, regardless of your orientation or openness, do not get to dictate when someone comes out.  That’s a personal and important decision that should be made by the person alone.

Don’t out people.  Don’t out people.  Oh man, how many times do I have to say it?  One more?  Okay, fine, then.  DON’T MOTHERBLEEPING OUT PEOPLE!  Why is this even a conversation to be had?  At best, it’s like a secret.  If I told you something personal, like I was adopted or dyslexic or a recovering addict (none of which apply to me, although I do have things so personal that I would not blog about them) would you see fit to go out and tell people that?  I’m hoping the answer is no (otherwise you’re kind of a bad friend).  What if I confided in you that I was pregnant or getting married or just broke up (once again, none of these apply to me for the obvious reasons)?  Would you tell people that information?  Well, I mean, you could, but the fact is that I confided in you and, unless I gave you permission, that’s not really your information to pass around.  How about if you heard it from someone else; can you pass on the information?  That, ladies and gentlemen and everything in between, is what we like to call gossip.  If you need to know what kind of damage gossip can do, go watch Easy A or visit a middle or high school ever.  When you out someone who has not given you permission to do so, you’re passing out information that isn’t yours to give, that, frankly, never was.  And if that person never came out to you in the first place, then you really shouldn’t say anything because, even if you’ve garnered as much “evidence” as you think you need, you could be wrong.  So, not only have you unfairly outed someone, you’ve started a false rumor.  It’s not a pretty picture.

What’s the big deal, anyway?  Well, it all depends on the situation.  By outing someone without their permission, you could be doing a lot of things wrong.  You could announce someone’s sexuality before they’ve fully figured it out.  You could break someone’s trust.  You could put information into the wrong hands, like a homophobic bully.  You could unnecessarily spread gossip.  You could put someone in a dangerous situation with the threat of physical violence, verbal/emotional abuse, and death threats.  You could unknowingly give information to their family that they weren’t ready to reveal, leading to loss of financial/emotional support and possibly getting them kicked out of their homes.  You could take someone who was already insecure and struggling with who they are and pull them down into a hole, where many horrible things could happen.  Does is sound like I’m being apocalyptic?  GOOD.  Because, here’s the thing: voices carry, information travels, and worst case scenario is that someone’s life gets way more screwed up than you expected.  You don’t have the right to decide that.

At the end of the Glee episode, I was left heartbroken.  What really struck me was that, when it was all over, Finn was sitting there with his girlfriend, happy as if he had never been insulted, while Santana was soldiering on, looking like she was about the break.  This is why you don’t out people; you’re not supposed to do that kind of harm to someone because of something they never chose.  Yes, we here at PPB are all about coming out…when you’re ready.  If you’re not, then don’t.  Protect yourself.  Do what you can to find a way to love and respect yourself.  No one should force you out.  You should never force anyone out.  You aren’t in their shoes, you don’t know what they’re going through.  You should never take away someone’s choice.

Hey Ma, It’s Your Birthday

There are some things that, no matter how hard you try, you simply cannot control.  The sun is going to rise every morning somewhere, the stars are going to continue making a nice home for themselves up in the sky.  Seasons will change.  Lovers will come and go until either one comes and never leaves or you go…permanently.  You can choose how you react to these things, sure, but the fact remains that they’ll happen and there’s not a damned thing anybody can do about that.  For me, there are two major things in my life that I cannot change yet strongly need to contemplate: I am a bisexual, and tomorrow is my birthday.

My name's not Stephanie, but...rainbow cake!

I certainly can’t stop myself from getting older, no matter how many deals I make with Disney witches.  It’s just something that sort of happens.  Usually, around this time of year, I’m knee deep in the middle of some kind of crisis; I’m getting another year older and the panic begins!  Am I getting old?  Am I at the point where kids will stop thinking I’m cool?  Have my most attractive days left me without me even realizing it?  Have I done anything with my life?  Will I DO anything with my life?  Am I going to be single forever?  These are the thoughts that take my mind hostage and won’t let go without being paid a ransom of praise and cake.

This year, though, is somehow different.  I’m getting older, sure, but I’m not panicking.  I’m not freaking out about whether or not I’m getting old or if kids still think I’m cool (mostly because the kids at my new job have made those answers very clear).  I know that, no matter how much times passes, I’m always going to consider myself better looking in the past than I am now, so I might as well entertain the thought that I might currently be pretty attractive (this time next year I’ll certainly think so).  For the first time since I was an overly confident, know-it-all high school kid, I actually do feel like I’ve done something with my life.  In the quarter century that has passed, I’ve made people smile, listened to those who needed it, organized programs to help my community to become more civicly and politically minded, and, most important to me, taught children that it’s alright to be just the way you are and to have a crush on whoever you do.  Also, for the first time since high school, I have a clear idea of what I want to do with my life, clearer than I’ve led most people to believe.  Someday, I will make that dream happen, even if I have to create a job that does not exist (and so far, I don’t think the job I truly want exists yet), but at least I know what it is.  And, with my “someday it will stop raining and things will be beautiful” attitude, I’m convinced that I won’t be single forever.  Here’s hoping on that last one.

What’s truly amazing about this whole “not changing stuff” thing is how much potential it leaves for the future.  I cannot stop night from turning into day, but I can greet it with a smile and a sleepy shrug.  I cannot stop the rain from falling, but I can march around with a rainbow umbrella.  I cannot be everywhere at the same time, but I can nurture the things in my area that need help.  I cannot protest every injustice at the same time, but I can stand up for what is right around me and encourage my friends far away to do the same.  I cannot rid the media of homophobes such as Michele Bachman or Rick Santorum, but I can work against them until they hold no power and are seen for the irrational, underhanded hate factories that they are.  I cannot make every parent accept their GLBTQ child, but I can provide support to any of those kids I meet and walk them through the process of coming out and figuring out what’s safe and what kind of life they want to live.  I cannot make every person of faith see the equality of all people, but I can be open and affirming and work to make my church and my Church an example to follow.  I cannot make my mother appreciate the complexity of my sexuality and that there’s a good chance that, if/when I marry, it will be to a woman, but I can…well, I can’t really do much about that at all.  I suppose I can just sit and drink and talk about how hot Tina Fey is until she changes the subject.

Oh, and there’s one other thing I can do in this world.  I cannot make it perfect for everyone, but I can try to share my thoughts and insights in an attempt to make it a little more perfect for someone.  I can take the thoughts jumbled up in that scattered brain of mine and put them down and post them on this blog so that someone may find them.  I don’t pretend to know who all reads this.  Some of my friends do.  Some strangers I’ve never met do.  Some people I used to know every well that I hardly see at all do.  I don’t really know specifics, but if at least one of those people has read something here that made them smile, gave them hope, or made them think, that I’m a happy person.  When you scream out into the wilderness, sometimes you hope that maybe even just the echo was heard by someone.  You can’t always prove it (in fact, you rarely can), but you hope that something out there knows your voice.  That’s what writing on the internet is like.  Maybe, just maybe, if you speak loud and clearly enough, it will make it past the brush and the leftover ruins and the muck and actually find its way to someone.  For as long as I am able and find this sentiment worthwhile, I will continue writing.  I encourage you to speak back, lest I miss my own opportunity to hear your voice in the woods.

Tomorrow will be Thanksgiving.  I hope you have something in your life to be thankful for.  I hope you have something in your life that you’re thankful you can change.  I hope you have something in your life that you’re thankful you can’t change.  As for me, I’m thankful to be turning 26.  I’m thankful to be home after a long 2/3s of a first semester.  I’m thankful that, no matter what city I’m in, I’m surrounded by caring friends and lovely people.  I’m thankful that there are fun, amazing, attractive people who I’m waiting to meet.  I’m thankful that I live in a place where I can be openly queer to the point of exaggeration if I want to and it’s okay.  I’m thankful that the generation below mine will inherit the hard work this and other generations have put in to make it acceptable to be a boy in tights or a girl building things or a man who kisses other men or a woman who wants to marry another woman.  I’m thankful that people still rage on for the right to marry, for children kicked out of their houses, for the trans* community that still does not receive the attention or respect it so rightfully deserves.  With all of this, I am thankful that I have you, whoever you are, to read it.