Over-Communicating

My roommate AL shared some advice my other roommate CF gave them, something along the lines of "Sometimes you have to over-communicate, as in talk about every little thing, in order to make sure things are as clear as they can possibly be and leave nothing to the imagination."

Wise words.

I've found that I've been over-communicating a lot lately. I know myself well enough that my vibrant and vivid imagination will find any hiccup in a situation and blow it out of proportion. It's something I do, and it causes a lot of grief.  So why not talk about it? Why not eliminate the stress and strain and the hours of cyclical thinking? Why not just ask for clarification and spend a bit more time talking about it in order to avoid it later on?

So I do. I've been talking more with folks I care about and really going out of my way to over-communicate.

And it's been great.

I find that people really appreciate the extra time and effort I'm willing to give to talk about things. I also fid that it makes the channels of communication more readily accessible, in that if there's something bothering people I share relationships with, they bring it up and we discuss it, rather than letting it fester and get ugly.

Over-communicating is saving me a lot of time and energy, and also allowing me to deepen bonds I already have.

I highly recommend it.

How to Heal a Broken Heart

Ezell's Famous Chicken will heal a broken Heart.

Also, sesame balls for the vegans and gf folks.

I may feel like crap (physically) the next day, but my hear will be healing.  And that's all that matters.

Thirst

Sometimes Thirst is cute.

Thirst can inspire poetry and song and dance and all kinds of amazing beautiful art.

But right now I am emotionally deplete and cannot handle these thoughts of Thirst that are occurring.

And too, I've been thinking about not having Thirst. What would life be like without Thirst? In what ways would my productivity change if I could re-distribute this energy?

Things to think about.....

Year in Review

I just took a quick flip through this blog and,

HOLY SHIT! I AM SO GLAD I WROTE THIS SHIT DOWN!

There are some questions that have since been answered, riddles that have been resolved and newer, deeper questions raised.

I am complex and hilarious and... desperately trying to figure my shit out.

Sometimes I feel like I'm spiraling out or just circling on myself or worse, just stationary. Bt I'm doing a lot of good work, I'm thinking a lot about a lot of things and

most importantly

I'm writing them down.

My sanity is contingent on getting these ideas out of my head and written/recorded somewhere.  And hopefully I remember where that somewhere is. :)

Qweer Eye Don't Lie

*This post is inspired by the hours I've spent in the past few days scrolling through friends' FB photos and picking out all the queer folks I see.*

------------------

I was born with gay-dar--being able to find gay folks based on their mannerisms, affectations, overt body language, etc. It's really based off of mainstream stereotypes of (white, middle-class) gay ways of being. It also kind of failed when I spent a summer in Spain, simply because the men 'do' masculinity in a completely different way than in the States.  And that's when my Qweer Eye began to develop....

Fast forward three years and here I am, able to pick out a qweer in a crowded room, or in a FB photo, based on a few factors (secrets I will only pass on to my apprentices, so don't ask), but mostly from their eyes.  There's something in a qweer person's eyes--the confusion of living in a society that assumes and forces heterosexuality; the fear of being 'outed' and the very real consequences of losing jobs, family, children, housing, community, etc; the struggle towards self-love.  

It's all very real and really hard. And a lot of these struggles are masked.

But after working so hard in creating my own mask for most of my life--and working hard at dismantling it these past few years--I See other folks' masks very easily. And since our masks are created to conceal similar struggles, it's easy to See through them. 

Besides, masks generally do not cover one's eyes. And the eyes are, after all, the window into the Soul.

And queer eyes don't lie.

Are You Awake?

"Are you awake?"

That's how it always starts....

Oil Sheen

Sometimes I stop and think about my pronouns and how these impact the ways that people see and perceive me.

The pronouns I use for myself are they/them. I feel that this is as close as words can get to defining my gender identity--the closest words can get to capturing the fluidity, complexity, and constant fluctuations of my gender.

But I also use he/him. With family, whose priorities are really rooted in survival and just making it form day to day, I keep it simple. They See me. And while it may not be in the ways that I See myself, I know that they are working on Seeing me for who I am. And I appreciate these efforts.  I also use he/him with folks I don't know well (and don't care to know well), friends' families, and elders. I mean, if the conversation comes up and we wanna wax philosophical about gender and gender identity, let's go for it. But usually that's not the case.

And then there are people who use she/her. I used to get really worked up and pissed off when I was pronouned as such, but now I'm re-thinking that anger. I feel taht I'm (FINALLY) in a place where I can say that it's fine and completely resonable that not everyone is going to recognise me for the person I have decided I am.

I've also been doing a ot of thinking about how I know that I will not always use they/them as my pronouns. I can say with certainty that one day I'll most likely go back to binary pronouns. Taht doesn't mean my gender will be any less complex or layered--it just means I'll use a she or a he primarily.

But for now, they/and them are "preferred".

Bravery

Whenever I'm asked to list qualities I use to describe myself, I usually start off with "Intelligent, Detail-Oriented, Generous, Organised, Thoughtful" and things like that.

Then today, I told my crush I have a crush on them.

And I've been thinking about what this profess-ion means, for me and to me. Because I haven't done something like this in a long-ass time. Me being direct in this romantic arena... uh, nah. That ain't me. I'll give advice all day about being frank and straightforward and direct, but very, very rarely do I practise what I preach.

Until today.

This is with two friends in my corner, who have been very strong cheerleaders and very strongly challenging me to re-think my... strategy.  Because really, it wasn't yielding anything. I'm a Slytherin--there needs to be some palpable outcome or really, why am I doing it??

So I took a really big risk today and stepped... leaped, nay--hurdled out of my comfort zone.

This is probably the bravest thing I've done. At least in this particular area.

And I'm very proud of myself.

So I think now when folks ask me what qualities I would use to describe myself, I'm going to include Brave, because bravery isn't always in the wars or the fights or standing up to bullies--it can mean challenging and proving to yourself that you can take a risk that maybe under normal circumstances you wouldn't.  And it's these little acts of bravery, that make the big difference.

Journey Towards Authenticity

I've been thinking a lot lately about being on T and when I'd like to start transitioning myself off.

Like, going to the South will signify that I will no longer be on T because I don't wanna fight that war with Southern endocrinologists about accessing medication, not that those wars take place solely in the South. I just know the pathway that I accessed T is pretty limited to the NW, NYC and maybe Chicago.  I'm not interested in proving anything to anyone in order to be on T.

Plus I wanna birth children and, duh, can't be on T and do that.

But if I decide to stay on the West Coast, I'd probs stay on T. Maybe.

Things to think about....

Ready to Receive

Ok. So. I've been doing a lot of thinking and processing and writing about my latest crush. This is a person I've know for awhile and they've been on my radar for a couple of years.

Yeah, years.

I'm slow and inconsistent and also easily distracted.

Basically, I wasn't ready to See them as anything more than a friendly face. I'm a big believer that folks move into (more) prominent positions when you're ready to receive them.  I'm pretty certain this is what's happening now.

The real kicker is that this person makes me feel something different, as far as attraction. Let me explain.

As I flip though my roladex of past crushes, I notice a very prominent common variable--they were all in burnout mode and needed 'saving' And my nurturing-ass was all for that shit.  Ugh, no more! I cannot save anyone. I cannot save anyone. I can only love them and support them through their process. I cannot save anyone, except myself. Wash, rinse, repeat.

This person has a very quiet presence and is very observant (I've often observed them observing) and has a really calming energy, if I can get a little 'West Coast woo'. :p  The biggest difference--my current crush is not on some martyr shit.

And this is very refreshing.

This person also... also --  Hmm. Let me find the words.

This current crush also does not make my heart race, they don't make my stomach turn in anticipation of our next meeting. I don't feel like I will be forgotten if we don't have contact for a few days. I don't feel like I'm going to say something dumb and ruin my chances.

This. Has. Never. Happened. Before. Not in the entire span of my crush history. Like, never-ever. And it's soooo

nice.

It's nice to be able to be around this person (we're actually friends) and not feel like I have to do the most. I can honestly be me--moody, talkative, quiet, observant, loud and a little vulgar--and it's all received.

But how is this possible?? Don't the movies/Western media tell us it's the person who makes us feel like we're gonna vom on our shoes, isn't that person supposed to be 'the one' or 'one of the ones'?

This is uncharted territory.

And frankly, I am thrilled to be off the beaten path.

I will gladly accept the feeling of calm groundedness I have when I'm around this person. I will gladly accept the feeling of not needing to be anyone other than who I am, like authentically am, and I will be Seen and Received. I will gladly accept the feeling that I can talk with this person about tough, important issues in our communities and be Heard. I will gladly accept the feeling that I can joke around and be silly with this person.

What this is sounding like to me, because I'm actually processing these feelings as I've taken the 90 or so minutes to write this post, is that I feel I can be my whole self with this person.  I've found that this is becoming increasingly rare with folks within my social circle, and it's something I'm prioritising more.

So who is this person that I feel all of my complexity Seen, Respected, and Accepted?

Well... I'm still in the process of figuring this out. But if these past instances are any indication, I think this person is going to leave an important mark on who I am.

Rethinking...

... Gender.  Particularly the ways in which my gender operates. It's fluidity, it's expression, and my interaction with it.

... Masculinity. I've been learning a lot about alternative masculiniies and how to find ways to perform masculinity that feels authentic to me.

... Processes. Specifically around (gender and sexuality) formation and making sure I have compassion and patience for folks in their process around identity. Because it is not an easy task, but it is so worthwhile.

Qweerness in the South

Since leaving the South, I've encountered a lot of people who have internalised the stereotypes of my home region--it's full of racists, it's full of backwoods hicks, folks have fucked up politics, people talk with hella thick accents, it's hotter'n hell.

So, like, all of these things are true--as they can be for anywhere people travel to, particularly if they're not from there! But I digress....

There's nothing that makes me raise my cackles faster, or gets a side-eye quicker than when people shit on the South. It's usually Northeasters who think they know something about something cuz they read 'To Kill a Mockingbird' or some shit or a 'liberal' West Coaster who imagines that they can change the mindset of one of the oldest regions of the US by simply getting people to 'relax'.

Fuckers, take that shit somewhere else.

The South is beautiful and complex and nuanced and its rich history is re-lived everyday--in the churches, at backyard BBQs, on front porches, in darkened rooms in the wee hours of the morning.

Qweerness functions in the same way. It's there, as it always has been. But to a 'savour-minded' outsider, it's easy to overlook. Because it's often not white, because it's not middle-class, because it's not 'liberal'. It's Black and Brown, it's working-class or straight up poor, it's in the churches, at the family reunions, it's leaning on fences catching up with neighbors, it's got its toes dug in the sand on a quiet beach. 

Qweerness is everywhere, because the South is hella qweer. Hella.

Performing MAsculinity

I think I've written about it before, but since it's an ongoing process, and this is (one of) my bolos, I'm going to try and exhaust this inexhaustible topic.

There are a lot of Black men in this neighborhood. A lot of young Black men.  And I am again feeling this crushing pressure to perform a masculinity that I have no desire to. I, again, feel pressure to conform, to put myself into a box... but maybe this is just me projecting?

Yeah, that was a pretty weak attempt at self-soothing. I know it's not me. I know that wearing my awesome pink raincoat evokes stares, glares, and side-long looks. I see it and I most definitely feel it. The hardest part is not to internalise it. I am read as a young Black man, probably a young Black gay dude, but I'm not. I'm a guy sometimes, but mostly I'm Aurien and I am having to (again) figure out who I am and who I am in relation to Black men performing 'traditional' masculinity.

I've been avoiding reflecting on this topic because it's such a huge weigh and I'd ratehr just shove it under my proverbial bed and let the dust bunnies dance around it. But I've been thinking about the love I have for Black folks and the ways that I show it. It's one thing to sit on Tumblr all day professing that love and it's another to be present in the spaces where Black folks are, to hang out and connect, to share food, to have those challenging discussions.  That's what I'm interested in getting back to.  And I know part of that means doing a bit of a dance a bit of compromising, a bit of navigation so that I can move into those spaces more easily.

Which means taking the initiative in new situations with Black folks. Which means being patient. Which means being vulnerable and unapologetically who I am.

Maybe that includes trading my pink slicker for a different colour, but I'll do that as a last resort.

Where Are the Gayboys?

Where are the gayboys?

I'm not sure, bt my friend D and I are scheming to figure out how to bring them to us. He's got a new gayboy haircut and he's working on those gayboy shoes. I'm going to start dressing less queer and more gay. I refuse to cut my hair--instead I'll work on my affectations for reeling the cute gayboys in.

Between the two of us, we might need to slow it down a little, cuz the Northwest ain't ready.

All of the Feels

I've been having a lot of feelings lately. Good and challenging feelings.

I'm feeling really proud of myself for following through with my need to leave this little town. It's been really tough and reminiscent of leaving Orlando, because there are some people who will hate you for wanting more and know ing you need more to live, instead of simply surviving.  It's definitely made me re-recognise the folks I need around me and who push me to keep growing.

I've had a really rough past couple of months trying to find a good family to work with as a nanny. I think I underestimated how much persistence it would take, esp since nannying is mostly independent work so the burden falls on the provider to figure out what the market is looking for and to really tailor their ad to catch families' eye. There's a stereotype of nannies, and I definitely don't fit it--being Black and read as a guy.  It really doesn't matter how much weight my resume carries because families are looking for a young white woman to watch their kids. Particularly in Seattle, yuppie central. I've been really fortunate after weeks of searching to find a family who respects me and the relationship I have with their child. We communicate really well and things have been great so far.  I am grateful for them and how easy they are to work with.

I've bene feeling really annoyed with certain people lately. I feel like I've been shedding a lot of folks this year who aren't aiding with my growth. That's not to say they aren't nice or whatever, but I do notice a certain drag these folk create.  And I'm not down for it. I've spent so much of the last three years with folks who are stagnating--I'm really interested in meeting folks and building friendships with people who will challenge me to learn and grown and stretch in different ways.

I feeling really confused about some of my own actions. I've been noticing this past year a different my words and actions around folks who are more masculine and then folks who aren't.  I'm trying hard to needle out where this pressure to posture is coming form and why it's there and what do I feel I have to lose. I'm trying to establish self-checks on my behaviour but so far they aren't working well... enough. It's annoying, seeing myself act in a way I know I wouldn't if certain people were around.  It's not annoying--it's ugly. I'm trying to be patient with myself and have compassion, but there's only so much I have because it's been more than a few months, and I've been really.... inconsistent with my behaviour, sometimes doing well and sometimes, not.... :le sigh:  Patience and compassion and also accountability.  The focus for the remainder of the year.

I've been feeling really stressed out living so far from family and wanting/needing to be closer, but knowing that my place is no longer in Florida. 

I've been feeling really in tune physically, mentally and emotionally lately. I've been toying with my diet and am feeling so much better because I seriously bumped up my proteins and feel less hungry and less irritated because of constant, deep hunger. This move has given me a good mental shake and I'm re/focused on what I want/need in order to thrive. I've been experiencing the most prolonged stability of my emotions. I feel like the usual peaks and troughs have stabalised and it feels so fucking good to not have to worry about waking up and feeling like shit or having super manic episodes. I wonder if I've ever had this much stability... It's been a few years, that's for sure....

I've been feeling really swoon-y lately. But not my usual Oscar Wao brand of swooning, but actually being active about pursuing crushes. I think as I get over my mid-twenties hump, I'm feeling less nervous about taking chances and trying. I get a paralytic fear when it comes to rejection, but I'm kind of not in the mood to dwell on it too much. I mean, a 'no thanks' won't be the ned of the world. At least, I won't let it be.   

I'm just kind of done with the way things have been. I haven't been happy for a long time and I'm ready for new--new places, new things, new people, new experiences. I feel like I've lost a bit of myself in finding myself these last few years. 

It'll be nice to piece myself back together and see how everything fits.

"We Always Talk About Polyamoury"

I have a friend who, whenever we hang out in non-work spaces, the topic of polyamoury comes up.

It's kinda like there's a huge hint being dropped, and I can't figure out what I'm supposed to figure out. I mean...

There's more to it, I can feel it. I have to crack this code....

Weird Dreams

Last night I dreamt I was pregnant. Not particularly alarming since I have tentative plans to squeeze out a human or two--it was more like my attitude about it made me wake up with a concerned expression.

Basically, in my dream, the pregnancy was an accident and I was teetering on the fence of panic and thoughts of, "Yeah, maybe this could work...." But even in my dream, reality was there, hissing in my ear, talkin' bout "Support a child? With what job? You ain't got no benefits! Get to the clinic!!"

I woke up feeling more than a little bewildered and thinking critically about the actual probability of this happening, in real life and what I would do....

I mean, besides head to the clinic. I have baby fever, but I'm not ready for the 24/7 thing. I still like that $$ to go with the care I provide.  

All for a Pair of Bogs

I recently ordered a pair of Bogs, which if you're unmotivated to click the link are heavy-duty rainboots. They're also kind a a status symbol here in the PNW, something you flash to show how hardcore you are in the face of all of this rain/mist/drizzle.  And for those prices, they'd damn well better be....

Anyhow, they arrived and were beautiful and amazing and a little too small. I wear a European size 42.5--because the Euro sizes are static; US sizes have a tendency to vary based on shoe companies--and the boots were a 42. So I sent them back and spend the weekend worrying about whether I actually wanted pink boots. Similar to the fretting I did over the pink slicker.

t all came to a head this morning, when I decided, no, pink boots were not for me. And I didn't choose violet, or teal, or the pretty floral ones. I chose black with a veggie print on the rubber part--it was the pineapple and eggplant that sealed the deal.

Pink, With a Vengence

I'm noticing how pink is slowly edging its way into my life. I spent so much (read: the MAJORITY) of my childhood and adolescence resisting its advances, it's kind of ironic observing the growth of pink in my life.

My slicker. My phone case. My wallet. My favourite shirt. My swimmie shorts. My rainboots. My favourite blanket. My hot pink Converse. My favourite sweatshirt.

Sometimes i ride on the bus and scheme ways I can let more pink into my life. I think it's a reconciliation between my childhood and my Now.

"Should I Buy the Pink Slicker?"

A few years back, I read an essay in the book Black Queer Studies about gender performativity. I can honestly say that it was one of the most inaccessible academic essays I had encountered. So much so that I don't plan on revisiting it any time soon.

But

It helped plant some seeds regarding gender and the many ways it its acted out and performed. I find myself contemplating these topics often.

Particularly yesterday, as I was shopping online for a slicker. I've lived in the PNW for over  three years now and I still don't own a proper raincoat, so I decided it was time to swallow my pride and shell out the cash. And I wanted a pink one. Which raised an internal debate that lasted most of the afternoon and well into the night.

"Should I buy the pink slicker? I really want it. What are the social repercussions of me wearing a bright pink raincoat? I'm read as and I pass as a young Black man. How would a pink slicker impact the masculinity I perform? How a pink slicker validate the femininity I preform? How would a pink raincoat impact the benefits I get as a 'young Black man' and the relative ease with which I move through society? How would a pink raincoat compromise my safety?"

Soul-searching questions that dog so many of my daily decisions....

It's tough, finding a balance between what society believes me to be, what I am, and who I want to be perceived as. it takes WEB DuBois' double-conconsciousness to a whole different level, because I deal not only with race, but a gender that is fluid and multi-facted. Ugh, so much shit to wade through for a gotdamned slicker.

Add to that the rainboots I needed to complete my NorthWest uniform and repeat the cycle of questioning. Because of course I wanted the pink Bogs. Well, 'want' is not really true. It was more like, "I need the pink boots to live!!!"

I don't have the answers to those questions, because they are constantly evolving, as are my tools to deal with any gender policing bullshit that's thrown my way.

I do however know that a gorgeous pink slicker and beautiful pink Bogs are on their way to my doorstep. And I am insanely happy.

Crests and Troughs

Ten years ago, I was sex=crazed. I was consuming a lot of media that told me sex was the only way to be intimate--romantically--with a person and I was channeling my desire for intimacy into a desire for sex.

Ten years late, and a three-year intensive int he Pacific Northwest has taught me there are other ways to be intimate, romantically, than sex. Connecting physically (non sexually), mentally, emotionally, spiritually (personally) rank higher than any sexual contact I'd have with a romantic partner, although that's not to say all areas can be hit through sex.

One of my biggest anxieties when starting T was the increased libido, and how that would... influence my behaviours.  I thought I might become some sort of sex-crazed monster making really rash and unsafe decisions, in terms of sexual behaviours and emotional safety.

I guess I really shouldn't believe all the stories I hear and read, because yeah, my libido increased, but I'd also say I'm less interested in engaging sexually (or romantically) with people than before. And maybe that's just my perspective currently--where my main focus is on getting the fuq out of the PNW.  And I'm fine with that. Sex takes a lot of work, and I'm really about... redistributing that energy. 

These are interesting thoughts to me. I'l check back in about this topic int he New Year.

Black Women

crosspost with FOD and JTA

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I was/am raised by Black women. I was/am guided by Black women. I was/am nurtured by Black women. I was/am loved by Black women.

I've been reflecting on my interactions with the Black women in my family, and how these have changed as I've begun to be perceived as a man. 

I've been reading about Black masculinity in bell hooks' 'We Real Cool,' and trying to figure out how my performance of masculinity has been impacted by being a person that was assigned female at birth, and how this socialisation has influenced and continues to influence the decisions and choices I make. 

I've been thinking about how Black women are portrayed in the media and the sometimes overt, but oftentimes subtle misogynoir (anti-Black racism and sexism) that I observe from this gray-area I inhabit between the worlds of masculinity and femininity.  

Is the fierce protectiveness I feel for Black women paternalistic and condescending? Am I perpetuating the sexist cycle of Black masculinity by stifling the autonomy of Black womanhood? How can I balance these conflicting feelings to create stronger, healthier bonds between myself and the Black women in my life?

I've been thinking a lot about the power and benefits* I am granted as a person who can move through men's spaces, and how to use this power to interrupt anti-Black sexism within (and outside of) the Black community.

I have been struggling to understand how I Love Black women, and in what ways. How do I honour this Love? In what ways am I challenging my internalised misogynoir, as a person who once identified as a Black woman? How is this Love changing as I am granted male benefits*?

I've been thinking deeply about the time I identified as a Black woman, and a sense of loss of community I feel by no longer identifying as such. How can I use this lifetime of experience to create space for conversations around gender, masculinity, femininity, and gender expression in the Black spaces I move through? 

These are a few questions I've been mulling over the last year....

*I use the term 'benefits' rather than 'privileges' when describing being perceived as a man. Privilege is power given that is never thought about except when it is challenged but even in those occasions it is still present; benefits are given on a case-by-case basis.  I am a trans*masculine female-assigned-at-birth person. Although I pass as a man in most spaces, there are still instances where I do not. In these cases, I am subject to overt sexism and transphobia, and the potential harassment and assault is always present. I am continuously conscious that these benefits are conditional and can be taken away in any given situation.

Baby Fever

crosspost from FOD.  Originally published Mon 2 Sept 2013

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I have a lot of friends who talk about how they have 'baby fever' or want to have babies. I need to contextualise my baby fever.

When I talk about baby fever, it's less the the "Holy fuq, there's a human growing in my body!" or the "Holy fuq this person is crying and eating and pooping at the same time, in my lap!!" or the "Holy fuq this person is walking around and-- Gotdamn, I thought I moved that thing onto a high shelf!"

It's more the "You just made the sign for 'milk'--let me get some for you," and the "You memorized that whole story and read it back to me. You are so awesome!!" and the "You ask really great questions. Let's brainstorm some answers together," and the "Your sibling is crying because of a choice you made. Let's talk about alternatives so maybe next time no one gets hurt."

The raising kids to become thoughtful, compassionate, radical, revolutionary visionaries.

That's what baby fever means to me.

Co-Parenting

crosspost from FOD. Originally published Wed 28 Aug 2013

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I have baby fever. It's not like it's exactly a secret--ask my friends.  I've been thinking seriously about things for awhile now--shit that went on in my childhood and healing through those hurts so that I can be more present for my own kids; where I want to raise my kiddos so that they will have access to culture, community and a variety of different resources as they learn and grow; the values and lessons I want to raise my children with.

I should probably start thinking seriously about whether I actually want to birth babies. That's going to take more intentional planning since that means finding a doc who's trans* friendly and competent as well as sperm and shit.

:le sigh:

I've been thinking seriously about all of this because I recently found someone who I seriously want to co-parent with. Their temperament and personality complement mine.  We communicate well. And we rub along easily together.  The bonus is I saw them around a child and

:deep breath:

it's e x a c t l y what I'm looking for. The light in their eyes and the focus on the child... :domestic swoon:  I can't even, because it was so perfect and exactly what I've been looking for.

Now the difficult part is getting up the courage to share my grand idea with them.  I mean, this isn't something I can bring up on a whim. How does one go about asking another person to co-parent with them?  This is harder than asking someone out, because the level of commitment is just so great. This is a lifetime we'd be committing to  each other....

Shit just got so real. >___<

The Passport Question

I'm in the home stretch of getting my legal documents updated to reflect my name change, and I've been undecided about what to do with my passport.

Well, first let me start by saying that it's $110 to update just my name. I mean really Dept of State, $110??? I should just shred my passport and get a new one. Ugh, bureaucracy. But that's not the real issue.

The thing that's been holding me back is whether or not to also update my gender marker. I have a really big apprehension about not changing it, because I really want to spare myself the hassle and of security folks not believing the 'F' currently present on my passport and any... probing that might be done. Not that I won't flip the whole mu'fucking checkpoint if anyone tries to touch my beautiful Black ass. But I don't really wanna have to take it there--I need to keep my blood pressure down.

If I decide to change the gender marker on my passport, it will be the only legal document I will do so on. And I'm worried the inconsistency will raise a red flag, forcing me to update all my other docs, which I am not about doing. Mainly because I want to leave the option open to bear children and it might/will be more difficult to get the care I need with that 'M' on my ID. I also don't plan on having bottom surgery and I need those reminders to have an annual/bi-annual/wait-how-often? pap smear.

:le sigh:

Things that are one my mind.....

Things They Never Told Me

They never told me that there would be points in time that I would still struggle with my body image.  That I would think back to the way my body used to look and be sad at some of the changes that have been lost: the curve of my hips, my butt, my waistline.  Things that I thought I would be happier without, and I find myself missing them,

They never told me that as I began passing as male in the majority of social interactions, that I would miss the days when I could identify and pass as a woman.  As I learn more and more about how Black women have really held it down and held up the Black community, I find myself missing that feeling of sisterhood.  Of being looked at as someone struggling towards liberation on equal ground, rather than as someone who is holding progress back or the source of he trouble (when I'm read as and assumed to be a cis man).  It feels weird and it hurts when I still identify so strongly with Black womanhood, and yet I'm cast out, isolated because of these benefits I now have bc I'm read as a cis guy.

This in-between space, as a masculine-presenting genderqweer person is lonely. I find it hard to find other Black folks who are walking along the same genderfluid lines as myself. Sometimes it feels like we're so few and far between though....

Clear-Headed

These last tend ays have been really helpful for me. I've realised that I've become a litle lost in the vortex of the PNW.

I've also come to realise that relationships I thought were priorities are in fact, not. It's easy to obsess over things when they're always in the forefront of my mind.  But since getting some space and having a chance to talk with friends and reflect I've come to realise I would be better without those relationships dominating my life.

It feels good to breathe again.

Extra Tender

ugh feeling extra swishy as I prep to deaprt. I lierally feel like a mollusk without a shell.

i don't think I cold take a rough joke at the moment.

I just... need to stay in my room and watch old anime and eat fruit.

too tender to leave the house right now.

Colour Me Queer

I feel like my Blackness and my queerness are settling in together.

That my roots as a Southerner are regrowing, even this far from Home.

That my identities are complimenting one another, instead of competing.

Sorry, I Wasn't Listening

During the 36 weeks I've been on T, I'e noticed I've become narrow-focused. I used to sneer when folks around me told me they could literally only focus on one task at a time.  That was my inner multi-taksing snow coming out, because after a near-decade of working with young children, I could spin a web of concentration and minimise the damage that 18 2yo could do to one another.

Now, though, I can't even check my text msgs while talking with a friend, because when I glance down to read it, I look up to find an angry or impatient expression waiting for me. Which 1) I shouldn't be checking msgs when I'm having intentional friend time and 2) I've been blanking out for the last 20 seconds.

I'm working really hard to maintain focus, and also recognising that I'm up against actual altered brain chemistry.

Bodies are... complex. And I'm re-learning mine.

Molly Fisch

I have a friend, called Molly Fisch.

I remember first meeting her, vividly. I disliked her on principle.  After living in the PNW, I had learnt to be wary of people who looked like her: skinny, white, 'qurirky femme' and leaning towards 'punk'.  And she probably biked.  I found out later that she did. And painfully awkward.

I met her because she was going to be my new boss-ish person for my internship.  I dislike change, and I was directing all of my apprehensions and frustrations at her.  About a week later, I decided to give her a chance, and honest chance. If she fucked up, then I'd play nice, nice enough to make sure my evals for my internship didn't hurt my overall transcript.

I'm really glad I gave her that chance.

Molly Fisch has turned out to be one of my most solid support people in this little town.

We both arrived in this little town at the same time (Sept '10)--me from FL and her from the Bay area. Despite our different upbringings, we bond over our social awkwardness, our love of pho, and the weirdness of the PNW.  But most of our conversations revolve around relationships--usually familial and romantic.

We regale each other with our latest relationship ish, and end up coming back to the topic of communication. I owe the majority of my latest communication growth to Molly Fisch. She says I give her inspiration to be more bold in new social situations. It's a good balance.

I think it was serendipitous that our paths crossed.  I love her. I hope she's in my life for many years to come.

Scorpio Moon

It's hot or cold

It's all or nothing

It's love or indifference.

There is no 'in-between'

There is no gray area

It's a ready 'yes' or a firm 'no.

The bonus of a Scorpio moon

is that my intuition 

lets me slice right through the bullshit.

Life's hard enough without excess shit to wade through.

Misogyny & Me

Recently a lot of my female-identified and femme-presenting friends have been talking about being hit on, verbally harassed, and otherwise accosted by nasty cis men in public spaces.

And I'm wondering why I don't hear about it more.  Is this a Summertime deal, since folks are dressing for the unseasonably hot weather, or are dudebros feeling super bold and mouthy form all the Sunshine we're getting?

Listening to my friends vent has been super enlightening and makes me think back to times before I began transitioning (because three years is apparently enough time for me to forget some things) ....

In what ways did (aggressive) misogyny affect me?

How did unwarranted/lewd/asshole comments impact the way I moved in the world?

and some questions that I now hold, namely

in what ways am I an asshole with this cis male-passing benefits?

I don't need to be leering on the street to be an asshole--cutting my friends off in conversations, taking up unnecessary space, not interrupting problematic situations when it's safe to

these are gateway behaviours

or at least they are for me.

and I feel I'm getting a little lax....

And naturally race and place colour everything a different hue and stil...

bell hooks and We Real Cool: Black Men and Masculinity is helping me as I reflect

duh

Sober Spaces

I'm feeling really frustrated with the omnipresence of alcohol and other substances in my commuity. This little town. The poc community. The queer community. The qtpoc community.

I'm a firm believer in self-determination.  And I hate how I feel like the awkward rabbit when I say I'm not down to be around alcohol, substances, or anyone under their influence. Folks say they're respectful of my decision, but where then are the sober spaces?  I think that's a better display of acceptance of my decision.  Why not have as many sober gathering/events as events where alcohol is provided?

People know and understand that folks have pasts that involve addiction or substance use or have been abused by people who used alcohol and/or substances--and it's still ALWAYS present. It's like some kind of wayward diety.

I'm so fucking tire d ot it.

Anger

Something that irks me to this is when Dr Shay, who does my T checkups, warned me that T can cause mood swings and 'increased aggression'.  It was all I could to paste that wan smile on my face.  

I've been thinking these last few months about how angry I haven't been.  Sure, I get annoyed, irritated, and aggravated--however, I haven't experienced true anger since December, or something.  

I feel like my temper is ticking down. I can feel the sadness, and hate, and hurt, and misery bubbling beneath the surface. It's palpable. And it's frightening. What happens when it erupts? What happens when I can't check my thorny temper and it slips away form me out into the open?

One thing tha keeps my temper at bay is fear. I do feel emotions differently these days--I'm afraid that my anger will overwhelm me and manifest in a way that I can't anticipate or control.  

The other is fear of others and their perception.  I'm not allowed to be angry or loud or emotional because I become a stereotype. A caricature, nearly.  And I know how people react to stereotypes and caricatures.  Folks will be so quick to point fingers in psuedo-vindication or else recoil in actualised fear.  

:sneer:

It just doesn't feel safe to be angry. Not around non-Black folks, who comprise the majority of my friend circle. And that's depressing. 

...

I need to fix up my bike so I can get away....

I Use Cat Pronouns, Like 'Meow' and 'Purr'

Something that I've been talking about with other genderqueer/non-binary/trans* folx is when folks who are cis--ppl who identify with the gender they were assigned at birth--say they use 'they/them' pronouns.

:takes deep breath: :grinds teeth: :grimaces:

Ok sweetheart, drop the mic. Take a step back. L I S T E N.

It's super invalidating when non-trans* folks appropriate non-binary pronouns (they, ze, etc) or make a mockery of pronouns.  I once heard someone say they use 'unicorn' or 'egg' pronouns as they snickered and rolled their eyes.

We as genderqueer/non-binary/trans* folx struggle daily within/against a society that tells us who we should(n't) be, who we are(n't) and how we should(n't) live our lives. When we use non-binary pronouns, we are defining ourselves by using pronouns that speak to who we are, not to who we are orwere supposed to be.

Yes, cis folks face difficulties

------------->AND<---------------

they also operate within the binary and have access to privileges that trans* & non-binary & genderqueer folx don't.

Simply put: you are taking up space that is not yours. If you identify within the binary, neuter pronouns are not for you.

Go and use a gendered bathroom or something....

Upswing

crosspost with JTA

---------

I've changed a lot these last six months--mostly physically, but I've  also grown emotionally and mentally. I feel like more of myself. The Self that's been aching to get out for the last however-many-years. It's been really Healing to see who I am readily reflected in my thoughts, actions, and appearance.  ♥

With all of this self-actualisation going on, I haven't really had time to give a lot of energy to those people who aren't on this journey with me.  Last night, though, I had some close encounters and Real reminders of people who are so wrapped up in their own transphobia and bigotry, that all they can do is hate.

This makes me sad

AND

I also know that I don't need to be around folks like that anyway.

And I also recognise that I  have friends and family who haven't left my side.  And new folks to meet as I move forward. I'm on an upswing and I only want people around me who are willing to rise with me. :3

Thoughts on Masculinity

I've been thinking a lot about masculinity and what that means in this is US society.

- How does my masculine presentation impact my daily?

- What does it mean when people read me as a cis-guy?

- What does it mean to be read as a Black man?

- What does it mean when I'm given more space? Physically? When talking?

- What does it mean when I spout some misogynistic bullshit? How does that impact those around me? How is that hurting myself?

- How is my non-binary trans* identity diminished when I'm read as cis?

- How can I stand in solidarity with femme folks?

- How can I continue to decolonise my internalised misogyny when I'm receiving all of these benefits?

Just some thoughts I have....

Int'l Tell Yr Crush You Have a Crush on Them Day

I found out it was Int'l Tell Yr Crush Day around noon and I made the most of it.

I mean... it was a glorious day outside and I was wearing a hot red shirt (I really dislike red, btw) and I looked hella fly.

I told four crushes I had a crush on them.

I ended up on a date-ish with one of them, eating ice cream in the park and deep chats around twilight. It was super sweet and I really, really like them.

Ah, Spring.....

Heartache

As I gro w older, I'm becoming more aware of what a squish I am.  I get hurt pretty easily, despite the rather prickly exterior.  And this weekend was really trying.

I had an argument with a friend that I'm still feeling unsettled about; a passionate discussion with a friend about a mutual friend who is, again, spiraling downward; and a much-needed conversation with a friend that's probably left my Heart sorest of all.

I need to go sit by some Water and heal....

Communicate or Die

I've figured out my Gemini motto for lyfe: Communicate or Die.

If I don't communicate, I get really visceral reactions: migraines, the runs, weird muscle cramping, loss of appetite.  Those are the ways my stress manifests.

The really great thing I've been developing this last year is the ability to listen to and understand my Body's cues before shyt gets real and I have to stay home to figure out why my Body has decided to shut down.

Tonight for example. I was walking around Capitol Lake with a friend and feeling like my dinner was going to come up through my nose.  Turns out I had some really important things to say that were caught up under my ribcage. I pushed through the nausea and managed to say what I needed to say, and then some.

I also think I"m worried about talking too much and taking up too much space, but that's another post. ;)

It's an ongoing process....

Handsome

I've been sitting with something for a few weeks: the discomfort I feel when people call me handsome.

I recognise that folks are just paying me a compliment with a word for what they perceive as my gender expression, which has been predominantly 'masculine'.  It just rankles and sends me into all kinds of  downward gender spirals.

So, here's a list of alternatives that can fill the 'handsome' void:

-cute (my favourite)

- breath-taking

- a picture

- pretty

- adorable

- suave

- guapo/good-looking

-radiant

- a vision

"Write or Die" or "Sometimes I Forget"

This might be an FoD post, but bear with me....

---------

I always forget, until I stop writing, how much I need it.

How much words, written words, matter to my Being.

I forget how much writing shaped my 'formative' years,

how it enabled me to sit through those classes,

walk through those toxic hallways,

make it through those dark nights, when it seemed like Dawn would never break,

How those words healed my wounds,

Saved my life....

Sometimes I forget how powerful seeing my words

--thoughts, feelings, desires--

on the page can shift my world

Colour it true

Remind me that I am here, with Complexity,

And that although my tongue knots with anxiety

My Silence is not Compliance.

Sometimes I forget

The landscapes I can create, the pictures I can paint, the Self I Become

With those words.

Sometimes I forget...

But when I remember

my world erupts with Intensity

More Complicated Than I Thought....

So.

I've recently come to identify as asexual.  And I have to confess I knew things would be difficult, but I had not... fully appreciated the complexity of the situation.

I do now.

But it's giving me a great opportunity to be more creative in my... expressions of intimacy. And I'm always down for more creativity.

 ♥

Early Morning Reflections: At the Dishsink

I was washing dishes yesterday morning when this line crept through my head....

"And then you took up with this cis guy--"

OMG!

:bends over with laughter:

You are the funniest! OMG

:drops dishrag into sink from laughter:

Where, WHERE do you get these joke??! I can't--

:drops plate and falls to floor in hysteria:

I can't! I can't even with this material!

:suffocates from laughing so hard and roommates find the body 4 hours later when they get up to make coffee:

Early morning humour. It def made my day a lot better :)

Communication

I know I have come such a long way since moving to this sad little town. My skill set for having those tough talks has vastly grown and I am constantly impressed by my ability to handle situations that would have left me frustrated and inarticulate.

Tonight was a prime example. I went from nothing but sordid emotions to a constructive discussion.  Or rather, I found it constructive at the time. I think once I sleep on it, I will begin to notice the gaps...  :?

Regardless, I feel like I'm really coming into my Gemini.

And despite all of this, I recognise just how far I have to go.  ♥

Gut/Habitually

These past two years, I've been really working hard on following my Gut.  And lately, Gut has been screaming a tune that I know so well. :eye roll:  I have this tendency to ignore Gut, and I have been Hurt because of it....

So this time, I'm going to listen to Gut, even if every fibre of my Being has banded together to sing a rousing chorus of:

OMG PLEASE JUST DOOO IIIIT! LISTEN TO US, IT'LL BE SOOOO GOOOOOOD, WE SWEAAAAR!!  

:side eye:

Well, it doesn't feel so good when I find myself sitting on that familiar stoop on the Westside Hill over looking downtown, wondering what the fuck happened to my Heart.

I am a creature of Habit, and this is one I intend to break....

Closing Thoughts

Ay Dios, mira el reloj. It's almost 0300 EST and I'm not tired anymore. I sleep better in the afternoon anyways.....

Although I didn't really want to visit, and I've been whining about going home (privately, as I have learnt some tact), this visit to Orlando has been really healing.  There's so much abuse and trauma that occurred in this place, so much Hurt that I've associated with Orlando for so log.... and I've grown so much the eighteen months since I've last visited. I honestly don't think I would have lasted as long as I have without the amazing loved ones and support network I've developed in the PNW.  Keeping in touch with those folks during this visit has also helped remind me that this trip has a beginning and an end.

Tuesday's adventure to Wekiwa Spring State Park was most definitely the biggest leap down the path towards healing.  Being back in the cut, with sand under my feet, Sun on my neck, and palmetto and pine trees and all the the bugs I hated for so long.... It reminded me of those Summers before things got really rough, when I'd spend literally the entire day outdoors wandering through the trees and come home at dusk, sweaty, dirty, and wishing I was back outside.

It was like I found little Mo, who's been lost in the brush for almost 15 years. I've got her hand, and this time we're both leaving this place behind, together.

The Talk

Tonight I talked with my mom and younger sister, stinky, about how they can support me as a trans*person.  I feel like the last eighteen  months were preparation for this discussion, and I have a lot of folks to thank for giving me strength and tools and clarity of mind to find the words.

Firstly, I have to say how proud I am of myself for not shirking away from a serious discussion that's needed to happen.  I feel like the last time I attempted to communicate face to face with family, I was less than articulate.  Not so this time.

I'm also really proud of myself for keeping my temper, for the most part.  I have the tendency to let my... passion get away from me, but I took deep breaths (thanks Tex) and kept my head in the game. It must have been the most present I've been in weeks. I'd forgotten I be so in the moment....

We talked about how much I appreciate their efforts to get the rest of my Orlando network in line with my name and pronouns.  This is often the biggest hurdle to overcome because it involves recognising me as the person I say I am, rather than who I was told I was supposed to be.  I'm happy to write that everyone respected my name; the pronouns were spotty and that's something I see improving with time.  I'm a patient Hufflepuff....

We talked about the awkward conversations with relatives and friends who aren't aware that I'm transitioning, and the questions that arise when they ask my mom about her 'son' or my sister about her 'other brother'. There was a lot of unanticipated pushback from my mom. I didn't realise it at the time, but she's still reeling about me coming into my trans* identity. There were a lot of hurtful things said that I'm still processing. I had the opportunity to share with her some examples from my daily experience as a trans* person, the difficulties I encounter and don't have the option of ignoring or walking away from. I really hope I was able to make some headway so that she can move past her initial anxiety to get the support she needs from accurate sources. Like, not the DSM-V or anything related to Western psychiatry.  :shudder:

We talked about finding resources of support for them as family of a trans* person.  Orlando is rather lacking gender resources (SURPRISE!!), so I'm going to find a few to kickstart things.  Keep in mind that I'm not going to hand-hold--I would hope that my loved ones will do their own research to educate themselves.

I have to say I'm so fucking grateful for my sister stinky. I wouldn't have made it through this discussion without her. She interrupted so much oppression and was right there with me as shit got real. There were numerous times I felt unsteady or uncertain in my emotions, and stinky's passion and conviction reminded me that my feelings of frustration and hurt are valid and that I have a right to feel what I feel, regardless of others' opinions. And also that I deserve to be heard in what I have to say. I'm so glad I have her.

All in all a good start to this conversation.  And now I am quite ready to get back on the plane to the rainy PNW, where tea and snuggles with friends await me.

This Gemini is completely worn out.

The Family

Today was hard.  Really hard.  I saw most of my Orlando family today.  And it was hard. Really hard.

It's always hard to be made invisible.  It may be inadvertent--that doesn't change the fact that it hurts.  And I also have to recognise the family members who do see me, like my cousins, my sisters, and one of my aunts.  Knowing that I can be whole with them makes being with family a lot easier.

Oh, family....

Wait, Did I Hear That Right?

I've been finding that my musical ear is off. Way off. To the point that I actually replay songs because it seems like the key is off.

But what's actually happening is that I used my voice as a point of reference, and since my voice is dropping, I'm having to re-tune my ear.  Everything sounds sharp.  You'll know what I mean if you've studied music at all, and even if you haven't it's exactly what it sounds like. It's as if every note is slightly higher pitched and harsher than it should be.

:grumble:

I'll reconfigure myself soon....