Bigotry? Misunderstood? Under-educated?

Two months ago I graduated from college and moved back home until I could get a job and move out on my own (which I am doing in 19 days!!!).  I have been living in my hometown and until this weekend I haven’t really experienced that “back home” feeling.

My hometown goes all out over the 4th of July with a huge community carnival and fireworks show.  I think I have only missed the fireworks there three or four times in my life and was really excited to go this year (since I’m moving permanently).  However, this meant I was destined to run into numerous people I knew from way back when.

I was settled in to watch the fireworks when a really good friend came up to say hello.  This is the guy who I kinda-sorta-not really dated early in high school, let’s call him A.  We see each other once or twice a year to catch up and he was only in town for the one day so I knew I needed say a quick hello.  I asked how things were, what’s new in life, etc.  When I said “what’s new?” A. responded, “Still the same gender? Can I ask that? Too early? ”

Side bar, I have briefly mentioned before that The Ex is transgendered (FTM).  We dated through part of high school and nearly all of college.  My friends (from both stages in my life) knew him by his female name and identity, and many are still struggling or confused by his maleness.  Hell, I even still struggle with his maleness at times!

To say that I was stunned is an understatement.  I am a girl with a response to everything and I was speechless.  A. was never all that comfortable with my homosexuality and had a large distaste for The Ex, but never would I expect something so….off color from him.  When I got over my initial shock I mumbled something about it indeed being too early and that I am still the same gender and I wouldn’t make that comment in front of The Ex.

After that everything became tense and awkward.  I couldn’t believe that I had a friend who would say something so insensitive.  However, this is a person who hasn’t had much exposure to the LGBT community.  It doesn’t give him a pass but it does tell me that we need more education about trans and other LGBT issues.  As a culture we tend to mock and badmouth things that we are afraid of or do not understand, and I feel it is my job to help these people understand our community and end the mocking and hateful talk.  Hopefully then I can have meaningful conversations with people from my past without being offended or having to walk on eggshells around someone else’s prejudices.

 

Nope, I don’t need a man, but thanks.

A million years ago (okay, maybe 2 months or so) I was asked a question….

[My girlfriend and I] go out, to bars or whatever, and will be playing pool, and we meet new people, mostly ones that want to play whomever wins the current game, and without fail at least one man will talk to me about ‘the lesbian thing.’ The conversation always turns to some sort of ‘so do you guys just like each other or do you want company’ sort of offer, and have to play it off like I’m not completely repulsed and kinda laugh it off and politely decline. But then I think about it, and I was NEVER approached when I was with a man, and I don’t understand why they think it’s okay to offer themselves up when it’s two women. Is a lesbian relationship seen as less committed? Do they think that we all secretly want male companionship (or equipment)? Why is that okay?

I have taken my sweet time responding because I am just not sure what to say.  The first question or implication of lesbians being propositioned more frequently than heterosexual couples is generally because a man has it in his head that there are now 2(!) women who will fawn over him in bed.  If he were to invite himself into a het couple’s bedroom, he would potentially have to come into contact with another man (shock!) and could be seen as gay (omg!).  I think that a lot of this (the propositioning) comes about because pop culture has advertised lesbian sex as hot, sexy, taboo, something naughty – and we all know sex sells.  Perhaps these men just want a chance to get up close and personal with real life lesbians.

Now, I wouldn’t say that we receive this sort of attention because our relationships are viewed as less committed, perhaps just misunderstood.  People outside the queer community see the friendship first and the love and devotion/commitment second.  There is a lack of recognition of the true emotions and commitment involved in a lesbian relationship across much of the United States (and parts of the world).  This is where I feel it is our responsibility to demonstrate that our love is every bit as intense as the love of any other human – no matter the sexuality.

I really want to respond with something along the lines of people are assholes.  But this is something we deal with frequently, and we have to find strength and bravery in standing up to these people.  We are brave to know that bigotry and cruelty exist in the world and yet choose to live as we are and not make excuses or try to hide.  So, continue to be you, to express your love in public (if that’s your thing), to stand up to jerks who invite themselves along for the ride.

*All opinions expressed are mine alone and based on my personal experiences.  I do not speak for anyone but me.*

 

The Coming Out Monologues

Last night I performed in “The Coming Out Monologues” (TCOM).  TCOM is just like the Vagina Monologues, vignettes about the process, feelings, emotions, and actions surrounding coming out as LGBT (or allied) in some fashion.  It was created and first performed at the University of California Riverside in 2007 and has slowly been spreading across the nation.

The stories told in TCOM are heartfelt and moving.  Some are riotously funny, and some make me cry for those people who have to endure the terrible things we endure.  My favorite stories are titled Going In and Inevitability.  Going In begins:

We always talk about coming out, but we never talk about going in. Coming out is this lifelong process accomplished in huge events and tiny moments. So is going in, only it usually starts earlier.

The author talks about how we commonly find ourselves making small changes in life to appease others and appear “less gay.”  She questions why we make certain the rainbow stickers on our cars are removable. Or why we just nod politely when coworkers suggest single males for us to date.  This is going in.  Each time I heard this read in rehearsal I was filled with the need to live my life as loudly and gayly as possible.  My every action and statement should not be about being gay, but I never want to feel the need to hide who I am and what I believe in.

Inevitability discusses that feeling in the put if your stomach right before you have “the talk” with someone.

Do you know what I’m talking about?  It’s this raw nervousness so intense you can never forget it.  Imagine your stomach is drenched in cold acid and your heart pulses out hot lava, and the two substances swirl and churn in your midsection.

Did you feel it?  Now do you know the feeling I’m talking about.  You have to feel it to understand.  It’s nausea, anxiety, regret, anxiousness, pain, excitement, depression, and a hundred other emotions all mashed together.  For me, the only word that comes remotely close to naming this feeling is “inevitability.”  I know that inevitability is not an emotion, but that’s what it feels like to me.

The event was wonderful.  My campus is liberal and relatively open minded, but I was concerned about how the show would be accepted.  We have a large queer community, but it tends to be disjointed – mainly because LGBT people are so well accepted in the community at large.  I was worried that no one would come, or that those who did take the time would not be supportive.  But I worried for nothing (as usual).  We had standing room only in a room that seats 150 people!

When I stood up to give my monologue I was astounded not only by the number of people in the room, but by the love and energy I was receiving.  People were listening intently.  They were laughing along.  They had tears in their eyes.  Our hard work paid off.  Our goal of informing the uninformed was achieved.  Our message was being heard.  It was the most wonderful feeling in the world.  I was proud to be standing in front of these people and sharing something intimate and personal.  It was the best way to cap off my final days at school.

 

At This Point in My Life

Have you ever walked past a mirror and done a double take?  That person staring back cannot possibly be you.  Are those your eyes?  They sure look like your eyes.  Has your nose always been shaped like that?  You know in that instant that you have changed.  Your physical appearance is finally reflecting the transition occurring within.

The first time I had one of these moments I was in a public restroom at summer camp.  I was maybe 11 or 12 years old at the time.  It was early in the summer and at first I thought perhaps I was just more tan than usual and not quite used to it yet.  But I stood in that spot, staring at myself for a solid 5 minutes trying to sort out what I was seeing.  Why did I suddenly not recognize myself?  I was no taller, I still wore glasses, I’d had that t-shirt for years.  Yet there was something different.

I had another moment like this today.  I had been sitting on my couch for entirely too long working on a presentation (my final project in my major!), and when I took a bathroom break I glanced in the mirror and was shocked.  The woman looking back at me wore my shirt, her eyes had my same shape, but she was not who I saw this morning after my shower.   I stood there examining every inch of my face.  Something was off.  It wasn’t the 25 lbs. I’d lost in the past 6 months, that I’m conscious of.  It wasn’t the relatively different hairstyle, that I’ve had for 2 weeks and I’m now used to.  It was something in my eyes.

My eyes suddenly looked flat and nearly lifeless.  I’ve always loved my eyes.  Sure they are brown, they are common, they are ordinary.  But mine had something special.  There were these wonderful specs of gold and auburn, and they had amazing depth and expression at all times.  Today, all that was gone – that life and virility was removed.

I know that I have been dealing with a lot lately.  The last week was spent virtually alone (my roommate was off at a conference along with my closest friend).  When I’m alone I spend entirely too much time in my own head.  I try to work things out that I don’t understand, I begin to overanalyze, I forget to go out and experience the world.  Of course it did not help that in the last 3 days I also spent over 6 hours in a meeting, drove a total of 7 hours for said meeting, and broke things off with the girl I was seeing.   To say that my mind was a multitude of places is an understatement.

But why do my eyes seem so distant?  It could be that I graduate from university in 19 days and begin something that I am completely unsure about.  It could be the sudden alone feeling I got all week.  It could be that I have not taken a substantive amount of time to care for myself lately (taking walks, cooking, baking, painting my nails – you know, self-care).  I love my eyes for always showing what I am thinking and feeling, but this time I feel betrayed.  This time I want them to put up that happy, together front for other people and especially for me.  I do not want to look in the mirror and see a dilapidated version of myself.

So, I need to bring the life back to my life.  I have not been busy enough for my liking the past few weeks (I am most productive when slightly stressed and overcommitted).  I have 19 days left of living in this place, of being with these people, to finish this work, to end this part of my story, and I intend to make the most of it.  There are town ‘must-do’s’ that I have yet to experience.  There are friendships that I want to secure before we all head our separate ways.  There are recipes that I have not tried.

Hopefully all these things will bring the brightness and fullness back into my eyes.  And if it isn’t all back in 19 days, then I have a whole new life and way of living waiting for me that will shine them right up.  Something is always bringing a change, whether we see it in our faces or not.

 

My Strongest Suit

A few weeks ago someone out in twitter-land mentioned needing to put on her femme armor for the day.  She said that others might not get it, but she does.  This, of course, got me thinking.

For so many of us, femme is more than visually observable characteristics.  Sure I am femme because I like to wear make-up and high heels.  I will pick a skirt or dress more frequently than pants for a glamed up night out.  But these are only some of the things that make me femme.

Femme is my identity, femme is how I approach the world.

I care for all those around me; partners, friends, students, plants, pets. I show my appreciation, love, and just a basic sense of who I am through the constant nurture and attention I provide to others.  Certain aspects of my personality, my characteristics, my orientation to others is what truly makes me femme.

Femme is something innate, something that is simply a part of what makes me, me.

Back to the thought provoking tweet.  What do I feel when I put on my femme garb? Is there intention behind my choices for the day? When I need that small reassurance of my strength and power do I reach for big earrings and cute shoes? I would like to think so, yes.  My more feminine clothing is about more than making myself feel beautiful and wearing things that I enjoy.  It gives me power and strength to endure the stresses of the day.  When I don a particularly femme accessory I often find myself standing a little taller and walking with more pride in my step.  I am allowing the world to see how I feel on the inside.

However, is this armor?  Do I use my clothing choices to protect me from the world?  I think it might.  I don’t use these items as a shield from the possibilities of danger and hurt.  When dressed to high femme glory (or even just with an accessor or two) I am making myself more open to the world.  More people are going to notice me walking down the street.  My femme clothing makes me more noticeable to a greater number of people.  However, this does not mean that I am more vulnerable.  The strength I find from my femme garments allows me to ward off the wandering eyes and glaring looks.  Walking into the lion’s den is not nearly as frightening when I both feel and look fantastic.

Femme gives me power.  Femme helps me to live and not hide. Femme is me.

Is this the same for other femmes? Or butches for that matter? Does that certain item give you the added push to face the day?

**Note: Post title taken from the musical Aida**