Not much geeking out but plenty of lack of diplomacy...

It's occurred to me that this blog has become more of a social commentary blog than a geek blog. I should be feeling bad about that but not so much because, you see, the title of the blog is still relevant.

There's a difference between speaking up and speaking out and being out and out rude. It's the difference between respecting boundaries and crossing over them, despite being told not to do so.

And sometimes...sometimes, boundaries are consciously crossed because the violation being done to a person means action must be taken.

I grew up in a small north Minnesotan town where everyone was encouraged to kowtow to "normalcy." Anyone who looked different, who acted different, who was different was regarded as an outsider and was bullied, ostracized, and made to feel like there was something inherently wrong with who they were.

I escaped with my life (barely) and rebuilt who I was little by little. It has not been an easy journey and I am still discovering who I am but like everyone else, that's a lifelong process. I figure that's death's final hah hah...just when things seem to be going the right way and a person has a grip on who they are, BOOM, dead.

I stand at the crossroads and choose again and again, much like Joscelin, and I never have regretted that choice. Intersectionality is what I live and breathe and let me tell you, as a genderqueer person of colour, there's plenty of opportunity to speak up so people understand who I am, who I represent, and that their assumptions and their utter rudeness isn't acceptable.

No, I will not go quietly and though my voice shakes from time to time, I'm going to have my say.

This has burned bridges. This has created a distance I cannot bridge between people who liked and knew me when I was a me five to ten years ago but am not that me now. This has me standing on the scorched earth and looking at the devastation and wanting to weep. But. Nobody has time for that. Not when I can also see the green sprouts of new growth pushing their way up through the ashes.

Sometimes. Sometimes, great good comes out of destruction.

So, I'll try to keep a balance between geeking out (because I do like to geek out) and my social activism and advocacy.

But if I don't, I'm not going to let it bother me too much. After all, I rolled a one in Diplomacy, mon chats. To put it bluntly, I don't give a rat's ass if I'm making you uncomfortable or not with my thoughts/feelings/observations about social construct, classicism, racism, sexism, nonconformity etc etc wah wah you have to think outside the box wah wah here's the tiniest violin in the world playing a tune for you blah blah blah...

Right.

Let's get back to it. I write what I want. You read if you want. That's how it rolls in the end.

Well, it was great while it lasted...

Have ya'll seen this yet?

Go on, click the link, I'll wait here while you take a gander...

Queer on Queer Hate Bingo

We all good? Dandy.

So the other day, I was inundated on Facebook and on Twitter by the HRC's famous symbol redone in red and pink for marriage equality. And, being the queer person I am, immediately added it as my own avatar on both my Facebook and Twitter feed.

I was happy cos it was my own show of support for Marriage Equality and fuck, yeah! Until I started reading things on my Twitter feed.

I love my twitter feed. I have the best people who post and share things there and I'm going to share a few things and then I'm gonna talk about them.

Here's the first link that's uber important. It's a long post so take your time, read, and process:

Why the transgender community hates HRC

Then, on my Tumblr, I read this:

Marriage Equality is not a transgender issue

And this:

Queer Undocumented Immigrant Project


After I read the first long post, I changed my avatars back to something else and reflected on how divisive our Queer community really is. We talk about 'Unity' and 'Family' but which family and what unity?

As a person of colour, as gender neutral identified, as a pansexual, the intersectionalities I am amongst resemble more of a spider web of interconnecting lines. I can talk about several issues that concern me when it comes to the Queer community because in one way or another, I've been forced to deal with my own community's rejection of me on some level or another.

In one circumstance, I'm not white but I am (gasp) ***EXOTIC*** and bring that "Oriental" experience to the table. Yes, I've been called Oriental. And yes, I've called the person on it with a 'that's not even ON' comment.

In another instance, asking to be called by my own pronoun preference of 'zie' or 'zer' has been met with puzzlement and sometimes, hostility cos it 'makes people uncomfortable.' Really? REALLY?? Yeah, people went there.

I had originally identified myself as bisexual but after contemplating my sexual desire, I feel pansexual better describes me but I heard plenty of bi-shaming during that time. I'd been called a 'lesbian' (no, and you knew I identified myself as bisexual), I'd been witness to 'jokes' about the 'sluttiness' of bisexuals and how 'confused' we are. It was pretty awful.

As far as one of my besties being Asexual, well, that doesn't really COUNT as Queer and Demisexual? Pfft. Whatever.

COME ON.

Take a good long look at the Queer Hate on Hate Bingo card again. Do you recognize yourself there? Did any of those sentiments pass your lips?

I'm so disgusted with HRC right now, as they say in street parlance, I can't even. An organization that champions equality and pulls this shit? That's called picking and choosing, mon chats, and the dictionary didn't have that under the definition of equality.

Marriage Equality is important. It really really is. But so is transpeople's rights and safety. In case you haven't been paying attention, Arizona's been particularly brutish towards our fellow Queer people.

Undocumented Queer people are equally as important. Their voices must be welcome at our table.

The ugly truth is that there is still plenty of divisiveness amongst the Queer community. There is plenty of Ageism and Body Imagism and all sorts of judgments being made of a person's gender and sexual orientation.

Ironic, isn't it? If the homophobes were smart, they'd have us turn against one another and rip each other to pieces, trying to get a piece of the 'My Voice Must be Heard' pie.

Oh, wait. They don't have to do that at all.

We do just fine by ourselves.

Checking In...Damage Report

I must admit, this has been quite the spring break, topped off by the most fucked up news coverage EVER and boy...

Today, I stayed home and slept until almost 2 pm because I was/am drained, triggered, pissed, enraged, kinda fucked up in the head.

I've been dealing with other emotional crap and this....the rape apologists and the mass media and rape culture have all conspired to remind me that I asked for the rapes I'd been through and that if I'm ever raped again, I should know better than to seek justice and prosecute the jack ass.

I've had my words twisted this past week and don't even do that. Don't go there. Don't put words in my mouth, don't take what I said and say it's something else and when I write something out, do not do NOT run with it and say I'm saying something that I am not.

Here's a fucking clue: IF I were saying something, I'd fucking say it. Straight up. Tits to ass, ok?

As it stands, I'm less than thrilled with having to clarify what I write because I don't think I should have to explain every. little. thing.

But.

As has been gently pointed out to me, writing something out leaves a whole lot to interpretation and reading between the lines and assuming things that haven't been spelled out and I get that. I've done my own share of assuming in the past and boy, does it bite me in the ass. I look stupid and I really hate looking stupid.

So I suppose I can ease up a little and growl softly and wait until my emotions aren't so tangled up in so many knots.

*****

And who said being an activist was easy? And standing up for a cause is easy? Sometimes, I have to remind myself of the people I owe my way from and remember that they, being pioneers, also had people misinterpret them, also had people turn away from them, also felt alone and afraid and beaten down at times.

I have to remember that this is the price that I have to pay if I'm to not be cowed by society and patriarchy and racism and homophobia and all that. I have to remember that my privilege of writing this out and not being afraid of taken away in the middle of the night or being assassinated on the streets or ambushed and beaten almost to death is something not to take for granted.

I have to remember that people DO believe in what I do and do understand what I do and I have held more people than I can count now and told them, 'YOU are NOT to be ashamed of who you are! You are worthy and beautiful and wonderful! I believe in you. I support you. I'm here for you.'

And I hope to do that again and again and again.

If the price I pay is for that...for seeing peoples' eyes shine and their faces light up, knowing that they are *heard* and they are being treated the way they *deserve*....sure.

I'll pay up. Every fucking time.

*****

I'll be better in a few days. The vitriol caught me for a loop, although it shouldn't have at all. I should, sadly enough, be used to it.

At least now, I have peoples' measure. At least now, I know where I stand with certain individuals and while I won't lie and say it doesn't hurt...

Hell with it.

I'm a big girl. I got my big girl panties on.

I'm rolling with the punches, mon chats.

As always, it makes me stronger. It makes me wiser. It teaches me the lessons I need to learn.

A small breather, my friends...a moment to gather myself together.

I'll be OK.

Two tales of Woe and One of Joy

I have a twitter account and on my feed, I have subscribed to some amazing people. I'm not much with 'famous' people. I think I only follow one or two.

I'm much more into fellow queers. feminists, activists, and advocates. I get all the good stuff from them...and the bad stuff, too.

Here's a couple of shitacular things from my feed and one that absolutely broke me...but in a wonderful, amazing way.

*****

Have you heard of the National Organization for Marriage? Also known as NOM, they are the anti-queer group that has been listed as a hate group by the Southern Poverty Law Center, a non profit civil rights organization that tracks such groups throughout the United States and the world.

NOM's latest attacks on same sex marriage have reached a new nauseating low. John Eastman, the chair of NOM was quoted as saying that 'adoption in families...by a heterosexual couple, is by far the second-best option.'

Oh, really?

So, let me get this right. Point the first, adopted families are inferior to those families whose mothers were able to conceive and bear children. Point the second, hetero sexual families are OK to adopt but not same sex families. Point the third, adopted *children* are inferior to biologically born children.

Right. Here's my Point, motherfucker: You and your whole organization and words like these are hurtful, venial, & as about unfamily as one could be.

Also, from my own adopted queer potty mouth: Fuck off, you bunch of bloody wankers.

I imagine I'd be their *perfect* poster child as why an adopted child is much more inferior than a biological child.

Hah. As my son would say, 'Come at me, bro. Let's do this.'

Ya'll can pop popcorn and enjoy the show.

*****

Moving from NOM's "expert" opinion on family life, there's this news that's making its way around now.

Republican Bob Porter has recently announced that his position on same sex marriage has changed. Yes, shocking, I know, yet another politician who's milking the political cow for all it's worth.

Moo, Motherfucker.

Why has this change of heart occurred? Why, because he has a gay son and all of a sudden, he joins the group of Republicans who have issued statements of support for queer people in, well, queer ways.

You know, like Laura Bush who said in an interview that she's all right with queer folk. Yet I don't see her being a strong ally.

And then, of course, we have Dick Cheney whose personal motto might be, 'it's all right as long as it's in the family but forget that nonsense about equal rights and all that.' (cue harumphing noises)

Yeah, OK.

Don't get me wrong. I think it's great that Bob's son is being supported by his dad. That's super important.

But it's funny how his dad has been against same sex marriage and equal rights for queers all these years and you know what, Bob?

Nice of you to have that stance while your kid is right there, a real life reminder of who you're blocking rights from...I mean, how do you think that made him feel?

I don't know. I don't know when the young man came out to his family....and I'm not about to put words into his mouth...

But I can tell you how *I* felt when I heard my own parents expressing disgust for queer people and let's not even get into the day my father said something along the lines of 'AIDS is a gay person's disease.'

Picture a small nuclear explosion above our house that day and you'll get an idea.

And people wonder why it took me so long to come out of my own personal closet?

Look, it's great that he's all supportive and an ally now and all that blah blah bullshit stuff, ok? Super. Lovely.

But let's not forget the fact that this man has denied equal rights for YEARS to the queer community.

I'm not pinning any fucking medals on him.

*****

And finally, the thing that broke me...that made my heart swell just like the Grinch (only much larger) and had me crying happy tears.

I gotta share this photo. Click on the link and it'll open up.

Take a gander at this picture. Read the note. And see how this dad puts fake ass Bob Porter to shame.


LOVE!!!!

Honestly, do you see why I bawled? oh my god. I don't know who this dad is, but I want to hug and kiss him...and the kid's mom, too.

I wish every queer kid had parents like this kid. Hell, I wish I did. (wry smile)

But there you go. Two sads and a Fuck yeah, awesome!

If your heart hurts today cos of all that meanness out there, just click on the picture again, ok?

And feel free to share the love...this picture should go viral.


Take care, dear hearts. Stay strong. We have allies and friends and those who'll fight the good fight with us.

Don't ever forget!

When you hit my triggers, it goes like BOOM

I've been really blunt about living with mental illness. It is part of my life. It's not MY life although, at times, the fucking Darkness wants to roll me over and make me beg for my life. Lay me flat on my back with my belly up in the air and myself gasping for breath. Yeah, I have those days.

But I refuse to let it have any more of my life and my head than it already does. Some days, the fight goes well. Some days, I wrap myself up in my electric blankie, drink tea, sleep, and remind myself that I'm still alive and that's what counts, Motherfucker!

This past week, I've been triggered by some events. Triggered by people. I have reacted the following ways:

Slept for shit. I kid you not, when I don't get enough sleep, my whole body feels it and it's run city. It's pretty much what you see is what you get and when I get maybe four hours of sleep three days in a row? It's not a good thing, mon chats, not at all.

Cried. Or tried to. It's hard for me. I've been conditioned that crying=weak ass Motherfucker and boy oh boy, not so much. So I remind myself it's OK to cry but by that time, I'm so shut up like a steel trap that it isn't happening. The crying, that is. So instead, I go for door number three...

Rage. Or, cos it's pre moon cycle week (well, it was) sad-rage which is about as much fun as putting your finger into a light socket. Really really.

And the worst part of it is that I have to let it roll out. If I have PTSD reactions, if I flinch more than usual, if I cringe at loud noises and ghost around people, it's what happens when my triggers are hit.

And my living with mental illness becomes me skirting the edges of the Darkness and I really don't want that.

So.

I see some big changes coming in my life. I see some necessary arrangements happening. It's hard to change. I like consistency and I like stability but I'm used to chaos and I'm used to the ground shifting under my feet.

I'll land on my feet. I always do.


In the meantime, I'm kind to myself. I gather those around me who will Love me for me and will take care of me. I slowly regain my strength and slowly recover from the triggers that went off without any warning whatsoever.

And I'm not ashamed of this. I'm not feeling guilty or thinking I'm a bad person. I'm coping the best I can and by not being an abusive asshat back is worth something, I'd say.

Soon. I promise you. As soon as I catch my breath.

As for you, triggers....have fun while you can. I'm shutting you down as soon as I'm able.

Changing of the Guard

After some deep thoughts which eventually made their way to my conscious from my Bear subconscious, I realized that I need to do one final step to make my life mine in every which way.

I was born in South Korea, given a name by the orphanage (there wasn't a name pinned to me or any other kind of identification when I was found) and then renamed when I was brought to the United States.

After many years, I've become estranged from the family I was raised in through conscious decisions on both sides, some more than others. Now, I look at who I am and think of other Queer people who've also had their familial ties cut and decide to rebirth themselves.

This comes in a variety of ways....and for some, it includes a new name change.

For me, it's something I've thought about off and on during the years. I've kept my sons' last name because it would make it easier for them and for such things as school records.

Now that my sons are teen age boys, I feel I have more room to move in and after evolving and realizing that my gender is gender-neutral identified rather than 'female', I thought about choosing a new name for myself.

This isn't something I do lightly. It's going to require paperwork, documentation, and, of course, the almighty dollar for it to go through. I figure between needing a copy of my Naturalization Certificate (which I don't have on me now) and the name change court fees itself, it'll end up being around $500. Ouch. Merry fucking Christmas, Birthday, and Blessings be to me. Heh.

Still. My goal is to be truly me and...using the name I was given hurts now. There are memories that remind me daily of what I no longer have and will no longer have in my life. I'd rather not have those daily aches in my heart and would rather make a clean break of it.

So, I will become like the Phoenix and rebirth myself in the fires of everything that has hurt me and has haunted me. I can rise from the ashes and go forward and leave that past behind.

But a name! There was one important criteria for me. It had to be gender neutral. So I used my friend, Google, and googled gender neutral names. There was a lot of information there and I looked at a few websites before finding one that had gender neutral names by alphabet. That was dandy fine so I started with  a few favourite letters and went from there.

After I chose the names I liked best, I did some research. I didn't want a name that was a female version of a man's name straight up. I wanted a name that was truly neutral that someone could choose. So, even though I really like Irish names, too many of them mean 'the son of' and that wouldn't do.

I have four names that I'm considering. I need a middle name and a last name and that one I think I know of a last name that I'd like to have but I'm going to have to do some research on that, too.

I am, cautiously, thrilled with my progress, when it comes to putting the past aside, and I'm anxious to move forward and be the person I am deep inside.

I won't say there isn't hurt and there isn't grief because there is. I won't say that I wish things were different because I wish they could be. But. Life happens and it's up to me to go on living and Loving and laughing.

 I won't give up.

Anger Issues & Such Indelicacies...

Well, now.

For those who know me fairly well, I am, shall we say, an intense person. It's taken me some time to learn how to ease back on the throttle and to learn how to say what I want to say with more conciseness.

My writing style is less Ernest Hemingway and more Mark Twain--and that's fine by me. I like a good yarn and if I write in a way that is welcoming and engaging to people, that's pretty awesome.

I tend to forget the folksy style, however, and Hemingway my writing (there, I just created a new writing phrase, y'all) when it comes to social justice issues. I won't beat around the bush and I won't dilute what I'm saying out of fear of offending people.

This is bombastic, bold, forward, whatever you wish to call it and I agree. I can come across as pushy, arrogant, straight talking, whatever else, both positive and negative. And given to misinterpretation or misunderstandings.

Here's something to chew on: If you have a problem with me or think I'm, oh, a man-hater or am always angry or something like that, come talk to me about it. And after you get done pushing your POV on me, fair's fair. Like I tell my sons, they get one shot at you and they better make it count cos otherwise, they're gonna either wish they never fucked with you or they're going to learn a bitter lesson.

Bring it, I say. And here's my response back. Now that I've heard from various sources that I'm too much & too angry & too focused on this 'rape stuff' and this 'queer stuff', it's my turn.

You're right. I'm angry. And I'm focused. Absolutely. But with that being said, as a person who sees the daily bullshit in mass media and in our culture, a little anger is a logical reaction.

See, I'm not a man hater. But I do loathe men who carry on with the patriarchal bullshit and misogyny.

But I'm also not crazy about women who buy into the patriarchal bullshit and misogyny and parrot that shit.

Scratch that, I'm not crazy about PEOPLE, period who carry on with that. People who are rape apologists. People who are transphobic and homophobic and biphobic and well, phobic, period. In regards to people who are seen as 'deviants'.

Hey, if you aren't crazy about bugs and heights, I totally am on that band wagon. But I digress.

I've learned in sociology and anthropology that deviancy is anything that's outside the norm and anything that's outside the norm is subjective. I've also learned that just cos I know that fancy explanation doesn't help my heart any when I'm called a 'freak' or 'bitch' cos I'm open about my own deviancies.

I'm angry because people are being victimized, bullied, beaten, raped, and *murdered* cos some asshat with no concept of open mindedness decides to make like some Dystopian vigilante and dispense their idea of justice.

I'm angry because people continue to carry elitist, classicist attitudes and refuse to consider intersectionality when it comes to being an activist and/or advocate.

I'm angry because when I tell people, this is an example of all that bullshit, it's my fault for bringing it up. Yeah, that's awesome. Blame the person for having the guts in the first place to say, 'look....this isn't cool and this is why.'

Nice. And I'm angry because I like to think that my friends are the ones who will back me up. Everyone else might troll me or call me names but my friends will go, 'We dig it.'

No, not so much...at least, not with some of them and at that point, are we really friends? Cos, bluntly, I'm beginning to wonder.

Here's the thing, lads.

It *hurts* to see this shit every day. It hurts to read my twitter feed and see examples of how people can hurt each other in horrific ways. It breaks my heart to talk to people who feel as though they're worthless & there's nobody who loves them for who they are. I cry when I read comments that blame the survivor, that encourage the hurtfulness to go on...I've been known to curl up into a small ball under my electric blankie and bawl my eyes out, just so I can let those feelings out.

And so you ask, why do it, then? Why be an advocate? Why be such an outspoken activist? Why put that target on your back?

And I can give you names. I can give you the names of the young who've been bullied and have died of suicide. I can give you the names of activists in Africa who died fighting for equal rights and the damn right to live as a queer person. I can give you names of rape survivors and people living with mental illness and people who hate themselves cos they aren't 'normal.'

I can list the people of colour who have stood up and stood for equality and human dignity. Some have been murdered for it. Others still fight the good fight.

I am honoured to be an activist. I will never lose the wonder of being introduced as an advocate for people living with mental illness. I will never not feel that shiver down my spine when people talk to me and tell me I've changed their life.

I am humbled by peoples' trust. I am astounded by the allies I've come across and the conversations we've had and how we're all linked together in the Good Fight. Me. I'm part of that. I am...there are no words.

So.

Before you assume I hate men. Before you assume I'm always this Walking Pillar of Anger & Scorch the Earth.

Nah. Yeah, I get angry. Yeah, I'm going to get passionate and intense when I talk about these issues. So does everyone else when it comes to something they really like.

But I do this not out of anger but out of this...this fierce hope and this tenderness and this Love that supercedes fear and loneliness and ostracism. I've seen progress and I've seen people open themselves to different ways of thinking and different lives than theirs and I've seen people who've felt as though they had nobody who would be there for them find out differently.

And then, I cry for another reason...for the awesomeness and the gratitude and the feeling of connection that wipe out, for that time, all that ugliness and hurt and we look at each other as we should: fellow human beings on this journey called life.

So, OK. That's what I have to say to all of you who assume you know me so well. Hopefully this helps.

I'm making no apologies for being who I am and doing what I'm doing. Don't mistake this as one; that would be unwise.

When all is said and done, I'll take my anger and be judicious with its use. I'll fuel my advocacy and activism with the outrage I feel when I read about injustices. I'll keep reading and learning so as to truly be open to all types of intersectionality. I will continue to blog, continue to share links, continue to let people have the opportunity to challenge their own preconceived notions.

Come on, join me...it is one hell of a journey but in the end...it's worth everything.

Good Intentions and all that...

It's been a while since I've posted in here. My attention has been pulled in many different directions but I am consolidating my blogging platforms and am going to have all links go to this one. This one here blog.

So my two tumblrs will end up here (when I post original posts and not re blogs)...and some of my writing stuff will go here and a lot of personal thoughts and feelings will go here.

I'm happy to finally get this all sorted out.

Thanks for staying with me this long...it's going to be much less confusing.  :)

 

 

K.

Hope. Support. Love.

To the GLBTQA youth of North Carolina:

Yeah, it blows. I was bawling so hard last night when I heard the news and I'm a few states away. I can only imagine your hurt and fear and grief right now.

I know you have good allies there. I hope you've seen the news where people are disgusted by this Amendment and vow to overturn it. I hope you've been able to hear one person say, 'this is so wrong.'

Cos it IS wrong. They talk about moral values and they preach about the bible and somehow, I don't think they get how ironic this is. I mean, people sure like to quote certain passages in the bible about how being queer is a sin and you'll burn in hell but they sure don't like it when someone points out to them that they shouldn't play football. Or wear cotton-polyester. Or have a tattoo. That's called hypocrisy and it's a fancy word for people who don't like having their own words proven false.

Here's something I want you to know. You have more people who care and support and Love you than you even know. Seriously. There's a whole country, wait, a whole WORLD full of people who understand and accept you just as you are. We think you're pretty amazing brilliant fantastic the cat's meow you name it, that's who you are.

There is absolutely nothing wrong with you. You don't need to be fixed. You don't need 'straight therapy'. You certainly don't need someone making your daily life a living hell. hah. They say, 'you'll burn in hell??' I bet you want to say, 'can't be any worse than what I go through every day of my life right now.'

And I'm really sorry. I'm sorry that you are being hurt like that. 

And to me, you are the bravest people I know. Being a teen can suck on a good day. Being an out GLBTQA teen can make those days a picnic at times. But there you are, being you. If I could, I'd hug every single one of you. 

I know you've read about the Civil Rights movement and that time where people united together to end segregation. It was a hard, scary time. People were murdered and hurt and called names....dogs and fire hoses were used...and the brutality was just awful. But they did it. They didn't stop and they kept on until finally, equality was law.

And it'll happen here, too. It's a hard, scary time. People have been murdered and have been hurt and been called names. There has been brutality and it's been awful. But we're not backing down. We're united and we're going to keep going until it truly is equality for all.

I know it hurts. And I know it's tempting to give up hope and to think no one cares and no one understands and you're all alone. And unloved.

But hey....hey, that's not true. 

Don't give up hope. Don't believe those who tell you you're unloveable or unwanted. They're liars and they should be ashamed of themselves.

It might take a little longer...but the tide is turning. Change is happening. Trust me.

Hold my hand. Tight. I won't let go. I promise. Let's keep fighting, ok? Hate never wins. Love has always always overcome.

I Love you, don't forget that, no matter where you are, big city, little town, countryside or seaside...

Never forget that, ok? And remember this, too...

Love is Love.

 

K.

The day after, my thoughts become clear...

So yesterday, North Carolina (well, 60%) voted to approve Amendment One which basically screws over ANYONE who is not married. Oh, and not heterosexual. This amuses me cos the fine print apparently wasn't read and people didn't realize that this meant domestic partnerships and civil unions and ANYTHING that isn't stamped 'MARRIED' is null and void.

I raged, I admit. I raged, I cried my eyes out (ten minutes which meant I had these horrid mad dog red eye Hound of Baskerville eyes). Then, I calmed down. Keep me angry, mon chats. Me being angry is a lot like The Hulk on a rampage. Lokis better run. But me calm? Now we're talking his alter ego and Dr. Bruce Banner is one scary smart man.

Thank you to the 40% who voted against the Amendment. I forgot (as did a lot of people) that not everyone was for this travesty. There were a LOT of people working their hearts out to try and defeat this. I have some dear friends who live in that state and let me tell you, they are NOT happy. And so, to you who support my queer ass, thank you. I <3 the hell out of you, every single one of you.

Thank you to the 60% who voted for the Amendment. See, what we all forgot was that North Carolina is NOT the first state to pass something like this. We have 30 (count them THIRTY) states who have added amendments banning same sex marriage. This just isn't a North Carolina problem. This is a problem in our United States of America. North Carolina helped provide the focus but let's not forget we have 29 other states who are on the same page.

And ya'll can talk about democracy. And ya'll can tell me that the times will change. And my response is going to be a very soft reply (cos otherwise, I'd scream it): And it's too bad that our GLBTQ youth who commit suicide and are being bullied and being beaten are paying the price until then.

I live here in Minnesota and this November, our state is gearing up for its own Amendment vote. I never thought I'd see the day. This state which was the pride of liberal openness and acceptance, which had the great Hubert H. Humphrey and the fiery Paul Wellstone as our senators...this state which for quite some time was the keyword when it came to tolerance has become a state I don't recognize anymore.

And so this November, I'm going to go to the polls, and I'm going to vote NO and I'm going to tell everyone I know that they need to strike this Amendment down. I'm telling my friends that they need to volunteer with United For All Families cos they're working SO hard to talk to everyone they can reach and tell them, 'this is who I am. I'm not the boogie man. I'm not someone to be afraid of. I'm just like you.'

I'm just like you. I go to school and fret about tests and homework assignments. I work part time and worry about money. I enjoy reading science fiction and fantasy. I love to get together with friends and hang out and talk. I have two amazing sons who I Love Love Love...I live with mental illness and have good days and bad days. I have an amazing husband who Loves me for me and my sexuality has never been an issue with him. 

My sexuality is a part of me, just like it's a part of you. It doesn't make EVERYTHING about me, just like it doesn't make EVERYTHING about you so why does it have to be front and centre? For goodness sake, it's really none of your business just like your sexuality is really none of my business and aren't there more interesting things to know about a person?

I'm hoping that our country is reaching a turning point. Just like it did in the Civil Rights era. People want to move forward, not stay in the past where GLBTQ folk are discriminated against, are not seen as equal citizens like heterosexual people, are concerned for their lives and the lives of their friends and those they love.

I'm hoping that there will come a day where GLBTQ youth will be loved and accepted for who they are.

I'm hoping that people remember that Jesus taught us to Love one another as we wished to be Loved. To cast no stones. To treat others the way we wish to be treated.

Love is not hate. Love is not what I've seen these past few years.

I believe we can turn this around. 

Faith Hope and Love and the greatest of all is Love.

 

I should be sleeping...

I should be but I'm not.

I find it difficult to sleep when I'm stressed out and worried and depressed and worried and scared.

Did I mention scared?

What I need/want/like is to be held tight so that I can barely wiggle...and told I'm Loved.

I imagine the hyperventilating will calm down, eventually.

It depends, though. I don't always like to be touched. And it depends on who the person is.

I'm going to try and get some rest. I hope that tomorrow is going to be less stressful.

Just scared and stressed.

Not the best of combinations.

Keeping the child alive or why I have a YA book in hand...

So there was this opinion post written by a gentleman which has caused quite the furor amongst those who read. He says that adults should stick to reading adult books cos it's not kosher to read YA books.

I'm trying to figure out if he's trying to pull the other one cos after reading it myself, I went, 'really??'

OK. So.

Not like I want to throw fuel on the fire or sound like a troll but I figure, my initial reaction ought to be entertaining.

My first thought was: what an arrogant ass.

Then, I thought about it some more, re-read his post, and decided it would be best for me to write it out. Like I was writing an adult novel, dig it.

As some of you know (ok, most of you), I'm a HUGE Harry Potter fan. I also am a huge fan of YA books as well. I am amazed at the selection that is available nowadays in the book stores for young adults. I didn't have even close to that when I was that age.

I have read the 'adult' books and frankly? I couldn't finish half of them. There is only so much self-awareness I can handle and bad writing and posturing that has me wanting to throw up in my mouth.

Look, some of the best books in the world have been written for young adults. 'The Outsiders', 'Are you there god, it's me, margaret?', 'The Wind in the Willows', all of the Narnia books, 'Deerskin', 'A Wrinkle in Time' and I have to stop there cos otherwise, it's going to read like a who's who of awesomeness.

I didn't care for Twilight, myself but I know there are a lot of people who really like the books. I haven't read 'The Hunger Games' yet but my sons have all three books and I'm sure I'll kipe the first one just to see what all the buzz is about.

By the way, Mr. Stein, your synopsis of The Hunger Games was either you trying to be twee or you being clueless. Either way, puke...just sayin'.

And here's the thing, lads....Young Adult books are gateway books. Yes, yes they are. Cos when you read books that capture your imagination and won't let you go...then you want to find MORE books like that. You fall into the worlds and love and hate the people in between the pages and you have this honourary passport to all the worlds and countries listed within the books that have touched your heart and mind and imagination.

Why, I alone count myself as a proud traveler amongst many worlds and places. As a young reader/young adult reader, I whetted my appetite on books. Books helped me get through some pretty dark places and reminded me that I'm not alone.

And the thing I really like about YA novels and that I suspect why other 'adults' like them as well is cos they are so REAL. The emotions and the story and the people...it's that comfort of knowing that I'm not the only one who's been ostracized or who has had to make hard choices or who just doesn't give up even though the odds are against them. I will be 60 years old and I will choose to read YA novels cos it reminds me that I have so much in common with the younger people who read them. I don't ever want to forget that I was younger. I don't want my emotions and my thinking to become old and stagnant. My love of YA novels ensures that won't happen.

I'm not afraid of growing old. I know that my hair will become grey and that my body will slow down. This is a natural part of life. I am afraid of losing that child like wonder and awe at every day and not so every day things. I don't want to forget those emotions that run so strongly through me and so close to the surface. I don't want to become trapped in a rut, in a groove, in some stagnant pattern that strips away the essence of me and ages me in ways that are horrifying.

So I'll keep reading the YA novels that appeal to me. I'll re-read my old favourites. I'll go to movie adaptations with my boys (and maybe, someday with my grandkids)...I'll introduce my favourite novels to my boys and hypothetical grandkids so we can all talk about them and walk in those worlds for a while.

I read plenty of adult books, thanks. There are some good ones out there, too...but I owe it all to YA novels that enticed me and befriended me and helped me step from that path to the other.

If you see me in the YA aisle at the bookstore, don't assume I'm there to buy a book for someone younger....if you see me reading a YA book, don't think I don't have the chops to debate literary archetypes....when you smirk at me cos I've got a battered copy of 'Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows' or 'The Silver Chair' (one of my favourite Narnia books), I'm going to give you a cool stare back.

I'm not ashamed of my YA roots and I'm not about to give up my love affair with them cos it's 'not adult' enough. And I'm really really glad that my sons aren't ashamed of me for wanting to share their favourite YA novels with me. It's drawn us closer and we happily spend time discussing the big themes within them and why we like them so darn much.

So, I'm an embarrassment to people who have eagerly shed their childhood skin and consider themselves 'adults.' Eh. Whatever. Have fun with that.

I'll be over here perusing the YA section in the book store.

When the Darkness comes a calling, I hold on tight...

It's taken me some time to write this but I figure that being a coward hasn't ever sat well with me.

This past week has been me gripping the wheel of control with both hands, white knuckled all the way. I haven't had the luxury of relaxing. I'm still not as the ride isn't over yet.

Suicidal depression is such an odd beast. I have been on school break and one would think it wouldn't show up then, demanding my time and attention but that wasn't how it played out.

I've had dreams of loss and grief and hurt every night. I wake up and it's about all I can do to get out of bed, get into the shower, get dressed and pretend to be a functioning human being when it's all I can do to breathe.

Last Wednesday, I called in and came in late. I needed more time to pull myself together. I was too blown apart to even move.

My spoons, as the analogy goes, were in disarray and I had about four at my disposal. Maybe.

Facebook isn't much help. I am invited out to do things. Friends I know are having health issues and are doing their level best to kick ass and take names. Then there are the statuses that are all, 'be happy you're alive and get out there and live life!'

It's been like hot pokers in my eyes, to be honest. It's been me feeling ashamed and small because I'm holding on as hard as I can until I can feel somewhat sane again and I know I shouldn't feel ashamed because I'm fighting my own demons but there it is.

What I have to remind myself is that my own chemical illness is just as much a health condition as any one else's health issues. I may not have cancer or heart disease or a tumor but I'm trying to beat the odds just like everyone else. I know people might not understand. All I can say is that when my chemistry isn't fucked six ways to Sunday and I'm not fast talking myself to stay away from the sharp things in the house, I'm fine. I have the strength and presence of mind to enjoy life and to do All The Things. And I do.

And the truth of the matter is, I'm more often not fine than I am. I pretend really really well. It's when I can't pretend is when I slip and can't go places and do things and see people because I can't concentrate on more than one thing, maybe two.

I have made a promise to my sons that I would not leave them and I intend to keep that promise. This means that during the times when that voice, that Darkness tells me I'm worthless and I'm useless and no one Loves me and no one wants me and I'm better off dead and why don't I just DO it all ready because I'm fooling no one but myself and I'd be doing everyone a favour if I killed myself...when I am curled over myself about out of my mind because I can't stop that from talking to me no matter how I distract myself and books don't help and music doesn't help and I don't want to be around anyone...when the knives and the blades start looking like something good...I am no good around anyone.

I am exhausted. I dream about loss and I dream about boundaries being broken and I dream about being told I'm no good and I'm a failure. I can't escape even in my sleep and I wake up and I about want to just end it. Fucking call it.

Here's the secret, here's the thing: sometimes, sometimes it seems as though killing myself is the only control I have over all of this when it's too much.

At least (in that part of me that wants to end it) at least *I* made the decision. At least, I said, 'I'm done.' and walked off the stage on my own fucking terms.

I realize that the Darkness is a lie. I realize that when I'm feeling strong and the Darkness is but a murmur and I can shut it out, killing myself is the last thing I want to do.

So this entire past fucking week of shit, it's been the Darkness speaking and cajoling and finally, screaming at me non stop to do it.


I was supposed to go out today but I couldn't. I couldn't be around people and have them worry about me. I couldn't be around people because I couldn't hide what I'm struggling with and my eyes would be dead as I smiled and I...I wouldn't do that to anyone. Sides, going to a birthday party for a sweet one year old baby girl with the thoughts of suicide and hurt running a continuous loop in my brain is not something I want to be a part of. That's no birthday present. So I stayed away. Even though I absolutely wanted to see her...it will have to be another time when I can smile with my eyes and my heart.


It's hard to write about this because I do NOT want anyone's pity. Nor do I want people to think I'm weak or worthless or anything like that. Nor am I particularly interested in talking about it. I'm too damn busy shutting the Darkness down to talk a whole lot right now.

But writing about it hopefully lets people understand how fucking awful mental illness is and how it can affect a person and how deep it goes. It helps family and friends understand that it's not about seeking attention or playing around or whatever stupid bullshit assumption is brought up. No, I'm not here for anyone's entertainment, does this LOOK like it's fun?

I'll get by. I understand that it's the week before my Moon cycle and each month, I go through some variation of this. Some months are harder than others for some unknown reason. I've been going through this for a good 20 years so it's not like it's anything new. It just gets rather tiring after a while.

Here's the thing, lads. It may be that tomorrow, something in my head 'clicks' and the chemical imbalance tips back to where it should be and I feel a calm, a clearing of the fog, and I'm fine. I can push back against the Darkness with ease and tell it to shut the fuck up. I can be around people without feeling like I'm rubbing against barbed wire. I can smile and my eyes look alive again.

It may be tomorrow. It may be a week from now. All I know is that I hang on, I persevere, I remind myself that I will get through this...that I'm not going to listen to what the Darkness is telling me.

For now, though, I keep to myself. I drink tea and keep my sons and my husband close to me because they are the ones I Love so very much and have promised to stay with and I spare as much strength as I can...

It will pass.


K.

Coming Home

When I was a growing up, I went to the Catholic church in my town. The ritual of the service was wonderful to me. Singing the songs and partaking of Holy Communion was the highlight for me.

One thing I had wanted to do was be an altar server. Since I went to a Catholic grade school, my fellow classmates took turns to serve at mass. I wanted to do that, too. They got to wear long robes and carry candles and the book that the priest read from, and even helped with the bread and wine at Communion. How awesome was that??

Except, of course, that all my classmates who helped out were boys. This was back in the day before it became altar servers and was altar *boys*.

Me, being who I am, went to the priest I liked and pleaded my case. Surely God and Jesus would understand that I wanted to help out just like my friends got to. I was a good girl in class and my behavior in church was pretty good. (except, for that part where you had to hold hands during the 'Our Father' and I'd giggle a little with my guy friends while we held hands)

To his credit, the priest said he'd look into it. And he did. And the final verdict was that the bishop of our area said that girls couldn't be altar servers. Because, you know, it's altar *boys* and because Jesus had 12 MALE apostles.

No, seriously. This was the logic that was given to me. I couldn't be part of the mass because I am a girl. I'm not even going to get into the whole Eve and Garden of Eden thing and whatnot.

I was crushed. I had tears in my eyes. I couldn't understand why I was denied this just cos I didn't have a penis. I didn't say that, of course. I thanked the priest for his help and that's when the beginning of my break with the Catholic church began. (the coup de grace was the whole GLBTQ thing...you know, where people like ME are abominations and deviants and whatnot and are not welcome as real sexual human beings) But I digress.

I wandered a spiritual path that has included paganism and wicca (not necessarily the same, ya'll). I have studied some buddhism and taoism. I've looked at shamanism and in the end, I've called myself spiritual. Not necessarily religious. But spiritual? Yeah, no doubt about that.

A couple of months ago, I joined a church here in the Cities. It is the first GLBTQA church that was founded by GLBTQA people, here in the Twin Cities. It is a warm, loving, close knit community and I have felt welcome from the very first day. My spirituality is what matters and if it's a combination of this and that and whatever...who cares? Not the other church members. And not Pastor James.

Pastor James called me this past week to ask me if I'd be a co-celebrant with him at a service. At THIS church, the members help in every part of the service. Not only as communion servers and readers but also to celebrate the mass along with Pastor James. Me, remembering that crushed girl of 12 years old, was thrilled to see this. Women in this church are honoured and asked to be part of the service and the community and to be more than just the usual 'foundation' that the Catholic church allows. So much more.

I am deeply honoured to have been asked this. I accepted and this Sunday, I will co-celebrate mass with a man who I've come to admire deeply and respect greatly. I'll be in front of a community who cares about me and accepts me as I am.

Honoured and a little terrified (it's a little intimidating to do that sort of thing the first time around and the wonder involved will never wear off, no matter how many times I'm asked)....and also, I feel vindicated.

One church told me I couldn't because I am a woman. THIS church tells me I CAN because I am me....a woman. a queer asian activist who has felt something heal that has hurt inside for all these years.

It's especially fitting that we're celebrating the Reverend Martin Luther King, Jr. at our service. He was a man, a human being with faults, just like the rest of us...but he was an activist, an African American who was murdered because he dared to dream for all of us.

Pastor James thought it was fitting for me to do this because of what I'm doing in the queer community as well as throughout the Twin Cities. I'm just blown away with the comparison.

So, this feels like coming home to me. I have a home now....a place where I can grow in my spirituality. A place that feels safe.

I am blessed in so many ways. I have an embarrassment of riches in my life with my sons, with my husband, with my Chosen family and with my friends.

This is just the icing on the cake.


If I could have told my 12 year old self who was wiping at her tears that this would be my future...if I could tell her, 'it's OK. Because in the end, you WILL be validated', I would.

It does get better. In so many ways.


K.

Faux friends and all that jazz

*jazz hands*

Or not.

I admit to being a suspicious sort. And once my mind starts ticking and the Darkness throws in some more thoughts for good measure, the party won't stop.

I think I know, though, why it's been a rough few days. I've been triggered and the trigger has been constant, and now that I understand what's going through my head, I can say, 'ok. Fun and games is over.'

I'm caught between faux friends and a hard place. I'm caught with the sneaking suspicion that I'm just not as useful/meaningful/worthy when I'm not as damaged as I used to be. I feel (and I may be wrong, but I might as well toss it out there) that to some people I know, it was a lot more satisfying to see me tossed like a leaf in the storm.

It's like it was ok when I was afraid and when I was weak and when I was more broken than I am now. It was ok cos it made people feel big and strong and better....but now that I'm not that person anymore....the communication and the contact has dwindled to almost nothing or nothing.

It's like I want to have friends who contact me instead of me contacting them all the freaking time. Tagging after them like a lost little puppy. Spend time with me....hang out with me....don't walk away and not ever call or anything cos that hurts me so much....ohhhh...so I guess I'll give in AGAIN and call or email or text or whatever and say, 'hey, haven't seen you in a long time! Let's get together!'

What's really precious is when I do that and I get white noise back. Static. No response whatsoever, and it takes a lot for me to go, 'it's NOT me. NOT NOT NOT.'

BOOM! Trigger alert! And it's like me wanting always to be Loved and accepted for who I am. It's me hoping and dreaming and wishing that I'll have friends who'll be there for me...cos damn it...I want to be there for MY friends.

I want to see my friends and do things with them. I want to laugh over coffee and share inside jokes, and go to places together. I want to store up these memories for me to take out when I feel cold inside, and the Darkness is howling. I want something to fuel those firefly days....

But I haven't had a firefly day in a week or two, and instead, I have the steady breath of the Darkness against my neck, and I am too aware of the sharp, cutting things in my house, and I do not feel safe...not all the time.

I cry at night. I try to circumvent the tapes in my head that tell me I'm not good enough, not worthy enough, just too much trouble and bother and it's better this way. I'm not going to disappoint anyone. I'm not going to make them feel obligated.

And sometimes, I just sit on my hands cos if I could, I'd tear myself apart with them. I feel like nothing.

So I have to make tough decisions. I have to decide what's more important to me. My inner health or me clinging to people I should let go.

I think they made their decision by their silence and by the way it's always me who initiates contact and time.

I can't do it anymore. It hurts too much. And it triggers too much. And I simply can't afford to give the Darkness any more weapons. It has more than enough all ready.

It's so hard, though. I'm the kind of person who would be friends forever, if I could. I'd want to know you for years upon years...I'd want to keep the friendship alive and nurturing and growing cos those are the best friendships to have.

Bear tells me that it's healthy to do this. Bear says that sometimes, things happen, and it's nothing to do with me or with the other person....life shifts, ice cracks, ties unbind. I'm to just be aware when it's time to move on.

But, ah. Aren't I someone to be proud of, now that I'm stronger and more assured and more....more than you ever dreamed I could be?

This maybe doesn't make a whole lot of sense, and I know my thoughts are all tangled right now...

I just write this out...write it out and think my thinks....and let go.



K.

Why I Came Out of the Closet...and other Musings

October 11th is a big day in the Queer Community.

That's National Coming Out Day and for some of us, it's turning the page on a whole new life. It's scary it's exhilerating...it's heartbreaking it's triumphant...there are so many emotions.

Most of all, it's intensely personal. And people 'come out' when they are ready to do so.

Personally, I find it bitterly amusing that it has to be such a Big Deal. Meaning that why should it be such a Big Deal when a person's sexuality is just a part of who that person is?

I have learned that it's really offensive to say 'that person's gay' as if that's their defining feature. Really? Cos you know, there's more to a person than their sexuality. Or their gender.

But there are people who are threatened and unsettled by the whole idea that what is just one part of a person's wholeness is alien to them.

I say, 'get over it.'

And after some deep thought, I decided to come out of the closet myself and wave my Queer flag. Not that I wasn't afraid. I wanted to throw up. But. I'm done with having the door half open and peeking out and going, 'hmmm...now?'

Here's the thing, lads.

I've known about my own sexuality since I was young. I've known for SURE since I was 20. I'm 40 now, and have been half in the closet and half out the closet for 20 years. That's a long time to play peek a boo.

I was afraid of letting people know I am Queer. Afraid that they would judge me. Afraid that they'd turn their backs and walk away. Afraid that they'd say hurtful things to me, and that they'd tell me I am a degenerate a freak a bad person.

Mostly, afraid that they'd try to hurt me by taking away my sons or by telling me I am a bad example as a parent cos I am raising them to be comfortable with Queer people and to even Love and care for them. Mercy me, how radical is that??

But I'm 40 years old now. My sons are old enough to tell people to fuck off if they want, and I'm just done with wanting other peoples' approval, especially for something that isn't their damn business in the first place.

A couple of weeks ago, I went through training through NAMI MN to become a facilitator. NAMI is a wonderful organization that helps people and those who Love them deal with a mental illness. NAMI MN is based here in the Twin Cities but reaches out to all of Minnesotans who live with a mental illness. Awesome organization. And they trained me to be a co-facilitator for the first ever GLBTQA Connection Group. A peer support group for Queer people and their allies who are living with a mental illness.

My co-facilitator and I meet up with others in the basement of the Spirit of the Lakes church. We just started, and we hope to have others join us. We are committed to walking that path with others who need the understanding and support.

I figured that since I am going to be a facilitator, it's time to set aside my own fears and be as open and honest as I can. I'm pretty damn open about my own mental illnesses. I am more than willing to share my own experiences and ups and downs with my bipolar and depression and suicidal thoughts and all of that stuff. But for me to truly be part of this, I need to be Out. And being Out means coming out.

So I did. I posted a status in Facebook (cos, of course, that's where you post all the Big Doings) and waited for responses. I didn't receive one bad comment. Only support and Love and a bunch of 'Likes'. The feeling of wanting to throw up passed, and I felt vindicated--the people who care about me and Love me for me....they didn't give a damn.

So I'm Queer? So what.

I'm open about it now, to everyone. I'll let people know when it's appropriate, especially if a topic comes up like gay marriage or bisexuality where I can give a very personal viewpoint.

I've had some great conversations with classmates. I've found that people who are respectful can ask open ended questions, and I can answer them, and they can go, 'oh, I didn't think of it that way', and ask more questions and we all come away with this feeling of new understanding and support. It's a pretty awesome feeling.

I know I can tell people that just cos I'm Queer doesn't explain my mental illnesses and just cos I have mental illnesses doesn't mean they 'happened' cos of me being Queer. One does not cause the other in any way, shape or form.

I know that there will be people out there who will dislike me for my sexuality. I know that there will be people who will say hurtful things. I get that by continuing to speak up and not back down, I'm going to be a target for homophobic remarks.

Bring it, I say.

The people who Love me for me don't give a damn. My sons, my husband, my Chosen Family, my friends....their Love me for hasn't diminished one bit.

As for me, I'm going to stand up to the bullies and the homophobes and all that jazz. I want to stand up for those who have to stay silent for fear of harm to themselves. It's how I'm built. I've never been good with staying silent when others are being hurt.

So that's it. Me feeling as though I don't have anything to hide. What you see is what you get...and in the end, if I'd introduce myself to you, I'd tell you my name and that I'm going to college, and that I am a mom of two awesome boys. I'd tell you my favourite colour is red, and that I am a huge Harry Potter fan and a big ol' geek who reads and dreams and writes poetry and short stories. I like all sorts of music and I like to hang out with my friends, and Fall is my favourite season and I have a weakness for babies and Irish Wolfhounds. And I Love my husband and my sons and I am Queer. And really, out of all of that, why should Queer stand out when it's just a part of who I am? The whole package is all those bits and pieces of me, including my sexuality. Don't make my Queerness bigger than anything else cos really?? It isn't. It's a part of me that makes up the whole me. And don't we all have bits and pieces that make us all unique and fascinating individuals?

I think so....and I hope you do, too.


K.

It's been a while...

I haven't written in here in quite some time.

Life has been busy. I've been involved in some really awesome big sparkly things. School has consumed a great deal of my time and attention. My sons are always the number one priority and my husband as well.

But it's time again to write. Cos I find that writing helps a lot. And writing in *here* helps me keep the courage.

I'm gonna do another post...but I'll be back more often. The door has always been open. I just haven't been able to walk through as often as I'd like.


K.

For me, it's when I fight in the Darkness...

Last night, things were...difficult.

As most of you know, I have dealt with bipolar most of my life.

As some of you know, I have fought against suicide ever since I was 12. That's over half my life now, and for those of you who have served in the armed forces, you know what it's like to fight against an enemy that never sleeps.

I am...tired. At any time, the Darkness can flare and envelop me. Sometimes, I have a little warning. Sometimes, I do not.

Last night, I did not, and so I was surprised and could barely launch a counteract before things got dicey.

I don't know what it's like for other people who fight suicidal thoughts. I don't want to say, 'this is what it feels like' cos it might not feel that way to them...I certainly don't want to put words into any one else's mouth, so I can only speak for me. Perhaps I share traits with others. Perhaps it's just me. I can say this with certainty though: it's an isolating thing, fighting the Darkness. And the best weapon of all is someone or a bunch of someones helping to tip the scales.

For me, I have an inner strength, a subconscious and not so subconscious part of me I have named Bear. Bear is stronger than I, smarter than I, wiser than I. Bear gives me Bear dreams that are portents and signs that I pay attention to, and Bear has fought this Darkness all by Himself at times.

I have my husband who held me tight, kept me anchored *physically*, and who walked with me through the worst of it. He was terrified of losing me last night, and even though a good part of me didn't particularly wish to be here, there was enough of me who wanted to stay.

I have friends who Love me for me...people who I've called Chosen Family who Love me and care for me and who I Love back fiercely. I don't really understand why they choose to call me their Sister or some other Family name, some Love name that they make up...but they do...and I am happy about it.

I have friends who care for me, and who I spend time with when I can. They're lovely and fantastic, and I think would be horrified by how much I keep from them, when it comes to this. I have this urge to protect the people I care about...it's only when I trust someone, can I let them inside.

And I have my sons, my two Loves of my life, my two best guys who are so breathtakingly wonderful and funny and smart and wise and *real*. I think of them when the Darkness comes a calling, and I tell myself that they would not want me to go. I know they wouldn't understand why I left them, when I tell them that I Love them so much...and it's the one thing the Darkness can't get around.

So last night, I felt as though I was being pulled away. I felt as though the knives and the razors were singing my name, and it would be a simple matter to take them up on what they were telling me: to use them and to slip away, and not come back. I tried to keep one foot here whilst the other one was trying to go on. I cried out of exhaustion and pain and grief. I didn't know how I was going to get through this without help.

But I have my husband, and I have Bear, and between the two, I was able to pull back and to breathe again...to quiet the voices in my head, and to Remember that I must stay Here.

I don't talk too much of other Things here...as in, what's going on in my life...that is usually reserved in another Journal where I can pour out my hurts and sorrows, and know that those words will stay there.

But I will say this: the time will come when I will watch the movie, 'Precious.' My Sistah has told me that I do not need to see it, that it will tear me apart, reminding me too much of things in the past. I told her that Bear told me that when we are ready to let go, to cut the ties and walk away and not come back, then I will watch the movie, and will cry and will grieve.

I have grieved so much over the past months for what will never be. I am not ever going to be the daughter or the cousin or the relative that people want me to be. I have resigned myself to being the shame, the embarrassment, the laughing stock, and the one people in my family point to when they want to say: Look at her. She just doesn't belong.

They're right. I don't. My sister has cut ties with me. My parents are no longer speaking to me, and won't tell me what is going on. I have cried almost every day for the past 7 months. Last night, I about fell apart inside and out as I cried and cried. I fight the feeling that it would only bring relief to my parents and sister. They could forget all about me and how much I embarrass them and shame them. At least, that's what the Darkness tells me, when I'm fighting the urge to kill myself.

So. So it is and so it goes. I'm not ever going to give up. I have to fight cos I don't want my boys to grow up without their mom and I don't want to leave them or my husband or my Chosen Family or friends. I know that I am Loved and Wanted.

At least, I do when I'm not in the depths of the Darkness or my Illness.

I am exhausted today. I am tired of fighting but I know I have to continue to do so. I have school work to study and I have work tomorrow and I have a birthday party to go to...just proves that life does roll on and life has the sweet as well as the bitter.

I will probably take a nap at some point and time. Lack of sleep doesn't help at all. And I will take careful care of myself and make sure I eat. I'm still not out of the danger zone, just yet, and I know that I need to do things to help push me back into a stronger way of thinking.

In the meantime, I think about what needs to be done, and I think about being strong, and I try to remind myself that this will pass and life will feel good again.


Until then, I tread carefully. I do not want to trigger another episode. I'm not sure I have the strength needed to deal with it...although Bear assures me I do.



K.

I should be studying, but first...

I think a transformation is taking place.

Last night, I had the pleasure and honour of spending time in the company of some women who, if their energy were harnessed, would take care of all the world's problems, and still have time left over for a glass of wine.

It was...odd, to me. I am used to being the outsider (cos god knows, I didn't kowtow to normal conventions), so I was gearing up to just sit on the sidelines, and smile a lot.

I should have known better.

Stepping through the door, I was enthusiastically greeted, hugged, and then passed to another lady for a hug. There were smiles and conversations that went from the serious to the silly.

I indulged myself by drinking a bit, and as I sat there, half cocked in my alcohol splendour, my Sister of the Heart told me some lovely, lovely things. Yes, those are tears in my eyes.

I have never thought about being a 'feminist.' To me, if something was unjust, it needed to be pointed out, and changed. To me, if the way of thinking and behaving was racist/sexist/homophobic/just plain crazy wrong, I'd be the first person to say, 'what in the ever living world is your problem?' It's just the way I work, just the way I tick.

Yet, talking to these fine women (and one awesome feminist man), it became clear to me that I've been a feminist all along. Or a humanist. Or an every person. I don't think I need to find the right wording, cos I have the right ideas.

My grandmother was heavily involved in the DFL party. She was also involved with the VFW. I never was able to talk to her about what she did, but I found out last night that she contributed quite a bit...and was recognized.

Then there's me, just finding my way, here. I'm organizing the SlutWalk Minneapolis, and I've found it to be as intuitive as breathing. I am happy to acknowledge my gaps of knowledge, and seek out people who can best instruct me on contacts, and give suggestions, and add to the ideas that percolate in my brain from morning to night.

Is it scary? Mmmm...a little. This is going to be a big ol' juggernaut, and I'm going to be spinning along with it, like one of those stars that you see, in the pinwheel of the Milky Way. See? That's me, second star to the left... :)

But is it exciting and wonderful and grand and...life changing? Yes, yes it is. It's opened doors for me. It's allowed me to stretch my wings. It's let me see how strong I really am, and how much strength I have inside.

The Bear side of me smiles. He knew. This wasn't a surprise to Him, even though it was a little, to me.


My grandmother would approve. She spoke about the fight for the working poor, she talked about the rights and dignities of human beings...she had a picture of Hubert Humphrey on her wall as well as Walter Mondale...she was a wonder, herself.

My grandmother died when I was 17. I barely got to know her, and I find that incredibly unfair. I smiled last night, sitting, talking to these wonderful people, thinking that she'd fit right in.

So. Onto the next step. In the meantime, I best crack open my Espanol book. I have some learning to do.



K.

Why I do this...and why I'm saying we're all jackasses...

A little update about my life.

School went extremely well. I ended up with 3 A's and one B. I was deliriously happy. If I had any doubts that I couldn't go to school, after not being in school for 20 years, this erased them. Me, with almost a 4.0 GPA. Look at that!

I am pushing on through with summer school. I will take Spanish I and II. I have plans.

In other news, I took a deep breath, and jumped off the deep end. I am still trying to touch the bottom.

On Facebook (where else? heh), I read about an event called the SlutWalk. Really? I read the article covering it, and thought...I want to be part of this.

After mulling it over, and then putting out an initial inquiry amongst friends to see if they'd like to organize it with me, I thought, hell with it, looked up the original website, and contacted the original city, Toronto, to apply as a Satellite city. I wanted our fine metro area to have our own SlutWalk, and I wanted to link it to the ones going on in sister cities all over the United States.

After getting the green light, I asked some people I knew to help me get this off the ground. And, we're making it happen!

I've discovered that I can push myself far more than I ever thought. The very topic of sexual assault/rape resonates with me, deeply. Because I've been through multiple rapes and sexual assaults, I am aware of the effect it has on a person's physical, mental, and emotional senses. It has been 17 years since the last time I was raped, but if I go through certain triggers, those years are like nothing, and I'm in that headspace again.

I have been triggered, somewhat, from the research I've done for this SlutWalk. The blog posts I've written have been pulled from deep inside of me. I'm not going to pull punches, nor am I going to compartmentalize myself. I'm going to be careful, of course...I need to stay healthy to do this, but I'm not going to say, 'oh, I can't relate to this because it might hurt too much.'

Hell, *breathing* can hurt too much, sometimes. I get over it, although it might take me longer.

So why do I do this?

Because it's needed. Because what I want to address (I'm focusing on ME, here, cos this is my personal blog, not the one I contribute in) is the bullshit of the blame the victim mentality. I want to call out the jackass behavior of the rape culture believers. The men who defend it, and the women who have fallen for it (although, I wouldn't call them jackasses, they're being victimized *twice*).

Most men don't like being called jackasses. I'm not particularly fond of being called a jackass, but if I'm buying into something or defending something that is illogical, hurtful, and what I call "ist-ist" i.e. racist, sexist, and homophobic (OK, I should expand that to ic-ist as well), then I need to be called on it.

If anyone is defending ANY part of blame the victim for a rape/sexual assault, they're being a jackass.

Are there such things as an ignorant jackass? Yup. I've been one. It's taken some reading (as well as some wincing), for me to go, wow. I'm a jackass.

As for my women friends who have bought into the patriarchal bullshit hook, line, and sinker, it's time to swim away from the bait. You are NOT responsible for what happened to you. Period.

The idea that a person is asked what they're wearing when they're the victim of such a horrific crime is beyond my ability to comprehend. Do we ask what people are wearing if they're robbed? Or if their identity has been stolen over the internet? No. Because that's just ten different ways of stupid. So why do we ask what a person is wearing when they've been sexually assaulted/raped?

And don't even get me going on Ben Stein's pathetic remarks. So if a maid has stolen your things and whatnot, another maid deserved to be raped? So because she didn't cry out or make a scene, she's lying about what happened to her?

What fucking universe do you live on? Oh, right. The Patriarchal one, where the Man Rules.

All I'm going to say on this is that I'd rather listen to Charlie Sheen go on about his own cracked self, than listen to this man and men like him, go on and try to erase the very essence of this woman.

Try being the operative word.

and then we have the people coming out saying that the SlutWalks are made of white privilege and supremacy and all that. Excuse me? I wrote about it...politely...in the SlutWalk blog, but this is my personal space, so I'm going to be a little more...blunt.

Walk away from the self righteous kool-aid, folks. I'm sure you're all enjoying beating your breast over another slight against People of Colour, but I'm going to call you on "kettle pot black" (no pun intended).

In every article I've read, it's WE. WE as people of colour are....WE are not going to...WE...ummm...you speaking for ALL of us? Because, see, you're doing the *same thing* that you're accusing the organizers of the SlutWalks doing.

*I* am NOT *WE*. Do NOT presume to speak for me. Do NOT tell me I'm "currying favour" for the white people. Do NOT say that I don't "get it" and that I am a "tool of the white people."

There's a tool here, all right, but it's not me.

There are salient points in the articles, of course, and that's what I look for. Include the silent people in the community. Ask, do not presume (ahem) what is best in representation. Make sure that not only dressing how one wishes is stressed, but also bucking against the Rape Culture, kicking the shit out of Victim Blaming, fostering Inclusivity, and making people stand up, take notice, PAY ATTENTION, and *think*.

The problem is that the SlutWalks were started to address a few key issues, and then it's like, nooooo...you HAVE to say *this* and *that* and...and....ALL THE THINGS!!! And if I say, wait...I can address only this part and this part *right now*, I'm being labeled as being a traitor to People of Colour and I'm dancing to the White People's tune and and...

Wow. Talk about divisiveness. That sort of bullshit isn't going to foster anything but resentment, anger, and hurt. How about saying, 'OK. This is a great start. Now, can we also put this and this into the mix as time passes....'

Gah.

But that isn't why I'm doing the SlutWalk, isn't why I'm organizing it, isn't why I'm willing to stand on the front lines.

I don't want another friend sexually assaulted/raped, and blamed for it.

I don't want another friend to go to the police and be told that what they're saying is a *lie*.

I don't want another friend to be afraid to report it, because s/he doesn't think s/he will be believed.

I want people to reject the Rape Culture.

I want people to not buy into the Blame the Victim mentality.

I want people to see that ALL races are vulnerable to sexual assault/rape, and some more than others.

I want people to not dismiss others as invisible. They cannot close their eyes to the fact that the sex trade happens in their own cities. They cannot close their eyes to the fact that prostitution and working in the sex industry makes a person extremely vulnerable to sexual assault/rape.

I want a Change, mon chats. And I'm not going to pretty it up and package it for easy consumption. This is something that's hard to swallow, that has people uncomfortable, and it sits in the gut like a rock. Good.

Tell you what....being raped isn't exactly a pretty experience. And it sits in the gut for a long time.

So to my friends who I've called jackasses...well, there it is. I'm sure you'll call me a jackass back. So it goes. I have not been known for my subtlety, and when it comes to this sort of thing, the stakes are too high to coddle your feelings.

I imagine there are some issues on which I'm a total jackass, too. I'm sure people will point them out to me. I'll research, I'll learn, I'll concede to ignorance...and change my position.

But. Do me a favour. Do the same. Read. Learn. Think.

And Change.

Sexual assault/rape is NEVER the victim's fault. Period.


K.