Life is messy sometimes. You feel helpless and useless and confused a lot of the time. Problems and challenges arise you never imagined would, then strength and resiliency appear you had no idea existed. You find yourself thinking you are weak, small, insignificant, and unworthy. Then something way bigger than you happens and you think to yourself, Wow, everything I have worried about until now has been in vain or due to possible inconvenience. I haven't really known pain or worry on such an absolutely real level before.
What I'm learning is strength doesn't have to be something you know you possess and carry with you at all times. It doesn't have to be something you flaunt or something you prove yourself with. Strength can (and usually is) subtle, quiet, unassuming. It's sort of like vanilla extract in your cupboard; there when you need it, but usually reserved for special occasions.
Strength and resiliency is something most of us don't think we have enough of, but yet we are here-fighting the good fight, pushing through pain, and coming out on the other side. We don't stop to give ourselves enough credit, nor do we acknowledge our healthy coping skills. We chalk it up to many variations of "I had no choice, but to push through" and don't stop to say, "I really showed my strength, my resiliency, my will in that situation."
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At a time where we are constantly told we aren't "enough" (by media, employers, our own inner dialogue...), there is no better time to embrace our strength than when we see it working in full swing. Embrace it. Appreciate it. Love it. Honor it.
There is an interesting and empowering movement happening right now which some may already be familiar. "Project Semicolon is a faith-based non-profit movement dedicated to presenting hope and love to those who are struggling with depression, suicide, addiction and self-injury. Project Semicolon exists to encourage, love and inspire" as their website states. Their vision is powerful and reminds me just how important it is to embrace strength and resiliency, even when you feel you have little to give. Little is still some. Little is still someTHING. Little is more than nothing.
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I know this post is short and about 2 weeks late, but there are important reasons why. I will be back in full swing soon. I leave you with this quote from one of my favorite poems by one of my eternal spirit guides: "Still I Rise" by Maya Angelou.
Hi. My name is Melissa and I am a love addict. Hi Melissa.
I have been intentionally uninvolved in romantic relationships for about a year. This is the longest I have gone-in adulthood-so it was very new...and strange..and lonely. Very lonely. The idea of being intentionally uninvolved arose after I realized my relationship-jumping was leaving visible marks on the people I was with. I was tornado-ing into their lives, turning things upside down, and then hurricane-ing back out just as quickly. I wasn't being practical, instead I was allowing my "hopeless romantic" side get the best of me, even when there were red flags nearly popping out and punching me in the face!
My self-esteem (which I think we can all agree is fairly critical when dating) has always been somewhere on the scale between low and medium, making it easy to accept things I don't want to accept, later breeding resentment and bitterness. I essentially have the perfect recipe for relationship disaster, if anyone wants it. Pens ready?
15 Cups unrealistic expectations
5 Cups of "love can conquer all" attitude
10 Cups martyrdom
9 Cups seething resentment gone unchecked
5 Cups of jealousy, insecurity, and anxiety mixture (pre-made from previous relationships)
2 Cups of each (optional): financial issues, location issues, living environment differences, and scheduling conflicts.
Pour into bag, make sure bag is open on one end, and twirl around until everything in your sight is covered.
You're welcome.
So, to say I needed some time to reflect and reevaluate is an understatement. I didn't want to do any more harm to myself, or anyone else for that matter. I instituted a year of celibacy. No dates, no hook-ups, no sex, no friends with benefits. Nothing. And it was wonderful...at first.
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After a few months of loneliness, the thrill was gone. And I began creating scenarios in my head of a future life with former crushes, high school sweethearts, anybody really. I'm not proud of this, but it deserves its place, because that is what popped the balloon I have carried with me since my first date at age 15: The Fantasy Balloon.
The Fantasy Balloon is something, I believe, we all carry with us. And it doesn't necessarily have to be about romantic relationships. Some might view this balloon as the answers to their problems with parents, siblings, career, addiction, ANYTHING. It's that certain something that keeps us denying the truth about ourselves. Denying there is an quick fix or perfect person to make everything better. For me, my Fantasy Balloon was filled with ideas about "The One."
This harken back to my high school days spent writing pages upon pages of criteria my "dream boyfriend" would fulfill. They would be kind and smart (but not pretentious) and funny (but the right kind of funny) and attractive and compassionate and...the list goes on...literally for-fucking-ever. It's unrealistic, yet I held on tighter with each relationship ending. A few months into my celibacy, it popped and after dragging the remains around for a few more weeks, I let go.
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You may be asking: What exactly does this mean? Are you through with dating? Do you no longer believe in "The One"? WHAT IS HAPPENING, MELISSA?! TELL US!!
My answer is I don't know. And I'm okay with that. Uncertainty is becoming my friend and I am embracing her winning charm and his incomparable humor.What I do know is I am no longer bogged down by the idea that I have to search for "The One." I know plenty of people who have "The One" in their lives and are incredibly (if not annoyingly so...kidding!) happy. I also know plenty of people who believe they are with "The One" and face nothing but shit-storms of constant unhappiness. This leads me to believe that it really comes down to individual belief and, therefore, I need to come up with my own definition of love, dating, "The One", marriage, etc. I am not ready to do that.
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What I am ready to do is begin dating again and I intend to do that Alanis-style. I recently watched an interview with Alanis Morissette and Oprah on Super Soul Sunday where Alanis discussed her own love addiction and how she finally broke that cycle by taking one year off from dating (check!) and one year to date casually. Well don't mind if I do. I have never dated casually, not even in high school. Everyone I ever went on a date with turned into a relationship. I would love to know what it's like to have dates without expectations. I imagine my Fantasy Balloon will try to re-inflate itself very quickly and I suspect many learning experiences to abound, maybe even some face plants, before I get it right. Thankfully my self-esteem is slowly rising from medium to high-adjacent...stay tuned, as I anticipate this next phase to be quite blog-worthy!
Many of you may be experiencing a knee-jerk reaction to say:
"No, you're not!"
"You're perfect the way you are!"
"It's only temporary!"
And many other well-intentioned things my mother has said when I'm in a shame spiral about my body image. (But maybe some of you are thinking, "Yeah, you are.") Either way, I am not saying the words "I am fat" to gain attention, fish for compliments, or drag myself through a fitting room meltdown. I am stating it as fact. I am neutral about this statement. I see these three words as describing part of my being, not defining it. To understand how I came to accept this seemingly simple fact, one must have some understanding of my journey.
***TRIGGER WARNING: DETAILED DISCUSSION OF BINGE-EATING DISORDER AND BULIMIA***
This is new for me. I have hidden (or at least attempted to) my weight and weight issues as long as I can remember. In middle and high school, I wore baggy jeans and large tops to hide my stomach-the FORMER bane of my existence. Thank goodness I came of age in the grunge era!
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It was in middle school I unknowingly started what would become a lifelong battle of eating disorders, namely Non-purging Bulimia and Binge-Eating Disorder (BED). My first "paycheck" from babysitting at age 12 was eagerly spent on three packages of Pepperidge Farm cookies and crackers. I excitedly raced home on foot, the anticipatory high fueling me, making a 20-minute walk fly by. I closed and locked my bedroom door and spread the packages out in front of me before ravenously attacking, shoving handfuls of carbs into my mouth. The immediate sugar rush and excitement of doing something "taboo" was enough to sell me. Proving, to me, that food addiction is as serious as any other. Needless to say, I was hooked for life.
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From that pivotal moment, my dysfunctional relationship with food took many forms:
Ages 12-17; compulsive overeating/excessive exercise (i.e. Non-purging Bulimia) interspersed with just plain compulsive overeating (i.e. BED).
Ages 17-21; compulsive overeating; weight fluctuates between 135 lbs and 200 lbs/size 6-18.
Ages 21-28; very little compulsive overeating; weight settles between 145 lbs and 160 lbs/size 8-12.
Ages 28-present; spike in compulsive overeating; weight steadily increasing from 140 lbs/size 8 to 200 lbs/size 18.
At age 21, I experienced a turning point in my disorder, one that I've lost track of in recent years. The turning point came upon me by accident. I was perusing Amazon.com for books on diets and the latest fads, when I came across a book that offered me insight to my disease, but more importantly insight to something called self-empowerment.
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I am not a paid sponsor for Amazon.com or the authors of this book, BUT if you want to purchase this gem, you can do so here. This book encourages those who suffer from Binge-Eating Disorder, to say a big "Fuck You" to the insatiable diet industry and reclaim our bodies. It was revolutionary to me. This book allowed me to eat again. The authors gave me the permission I was so desperately craving (pun intended). These women were telling me to eat WHATEVER I WANTED and assured me, in time, my body would naturally find its way back to its original and comfortable state. And it did.
This book, coupled with the slew of women's and media studies courses I took my last year of college, made me recognize my inner feminist. That fat was a feminist issue. Thank you, Susie Orbach!
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Taking control back reminded me that I was in charge of my body image and what it said about and to me. But, like everyone, I hit tough times in my late 20's and my disease is an opportunistic bitch. She is cunning, permitting me one pint of Ben & Jerry's to ease the pain of heartache or quiet the anxiety of career uncertainty. She held on through failed attempts to "diet myself" into a jump-start. To trick my body into remembering how free it was not thinking about food constantly. To encourage my excessive exercising in an effort to compensate for my binges.
This setback was a blow to the progress I had made as a feminist and "ex-dieter." I was shocked at how quickly I could revert old habits, thinking I was somehow "above that." It was humbling, to say the least. My body image took a plunge, my self-esteem nose-dived, and I was practically back where I had started.
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Having the past month to reflect, has granted me time to take stock of the things that matter most. Family, friends, travel, adventure, love, kissing, books, water, strawberries, cook-outs, parades, hugs. And guess what? It doesn't matter if I am a size 6 or 26, I can (and will!) enjoy life. It's not easy getting out of the "I'll do that when I lose 20 lbs" mindset. It's not easy, BUT it's not impossible. I am reclaiming my body, my voice, and my feminism (with a side of wit and sarcasm!).
While this has been my journey, I realize many others have successfully come to the same conclusion while choosing diet or lifestyle changes, whether it be a food or fitness plan. I commend and applaud those who are able to travel that road and maintain their sense of self and positive body image along the way. Though there are many roads to empowering ourselves, the end result is essentially the same: self-love, self-care, and self-respect.
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Unfortunately, my brain (from experience) has permanently enmeshed dieting/weight loss plans with immediate rebellion and binging. I am even super careful not to use the empowering self idea as a way to "trick" my brain into losing weight. I am 12 years older from the first time I chose body acceptance and I may not garner the same physical results. Truthfully, I don't really care! If I never lose another pound, but I can face myself in the mirror everyday and say I love who I am, I love how I treat myself (my WHOLE self), then that is fucking fabulous.
I leave you with a song I listen to every single day. It is my anthem. It is my support group. It is my therapy. This song reminds me that NOW is the time I should be concerned with and that "20 lbs from now" is not a date I can circle on the calendar.
~Melissa~
*Title creditL: Song "In My Mind" released by Amanda Palmer feat. Brian Viglione in 2011
For as long as I can remember, music has always provided a soundtrack for my life. Whether I am going through tough times (Sarah McLachlan and India.Arie work as my personal spirit guides), good times (Lady GaGa and Rihanna are staples in that department), or sad times (usually anything blues- or country-related. Think Susan Tedeschi, Johnny Cash, anything by George Strait).
So, of course, I have soundtracks for transformations, whether they be personal or universal. And what better time to discuss my transformation soundtrack than now. A time of constitutionally-ordered marriage equality, a time when states are asking themselves if flying the Confederate flag is the best way to honor the South, a time when sexism, racism, homophobia, and transphobia are being discussed, debated, and confronted on a daily basis.
For your listening and viewing pleasure, here are my Six Ways to Music Your Way into a Rebellion (Personal or Otherwise):
1. Fall Out Boy; "The Phoenix" released 2013.
I fell in love with this song as soon as it came out. I was counseling a 14-year-old girl, at the time, who was OBSESSED with Fall Out Boy and this song was a way for us to connect. While the video itself seems to reflect a bank-job-gone-wrong scenario, the lyrics are very empowering and leave me reflecting on the social changes happening:
Put on your war paint! So we can take the world back from a heart attack, one maniac at a time we will take it back. Hey young blood! Doesn't it feel like our time is running out? I'm gonna change you like a remix, then I'll raise you like a phoenix. Wearing our vintage misery, no I think it looked a little better on me!
2. Angel Haze ft. Sia; "Battle Cry" released 2014.
***TRIGGER WARNING!!! Video shows depictions of abuse and self-injury***
I love love LOVE Sia and equally LOVE female rappers. And Angel Haze is spot on! This song is emotional, strong, soft, and hard all at once. It leaves me reflecting personal struggles, but also empowers me to "keep fighting the good fight." Words of wisdom include:
Money cannot buy all the love that's here tonight. It's just you and I, so lift your hands towards the sky. "Bitch you can't tell me nothing!" I'm trying to outrun my past, but still trying to defeat my limits. You're the only person alive who holds the keys to your healing. We don't wanna fight, so sing with me a battle cry.
3. Little Mix; "Salute" released 2014.
I first heard this song in ZUMBA class and it quickly became my favorite! This song is fun, fierce, and pro-woman, EVERY kind of woman, as the lyrics suggest:
It's who we are, we don't need no camouflage. Get your killer heels, sneakers, pumps, or lace up your boots. Representin' all the woman! Salute! Salute! If you think we're just pretty things, you couldn't be more wrong. Ladies: the time has come...let us stand together!
4. The Dollyrots; "Because I'm Awesome" released 2007.
I am a firm believer everyone should start and end their day with this satirical, "go me!" anthem. Complete with empowering lyrics and a shout-out to "Smells Like Teen Spirit"-style cheerleaders:
Just look at me! I'm a leader, I'm a winner, and I'm cleaner 'cause I'm awesome! I don't need you, 'cause I'm neat-o, and I beat you 'cause I'm awesome! They say I'm gifted, well I'm a certified prodigy! I'm gonna own you, I'm gonna bring you to your knees!
5. Beyoncé; "Run The World (Girls)" released 2011.
The reason for this song is simple: Beyoncé. Who run the world? Girls! I'm repping for the girls who taking over the world, have me raise a glass for the college grads! To the other men that respect what I do, please accept my shine. Boy you know you love it how we're smart enough to make these millions, strong enough to bear the children, then get back to business.
6. 4 Non-Blondes; "What's Up" released 1993.
My last pick is more introspective, while also touting the discrepancies we continue to battle in society. We have come so far from 1993, yet still have many roads left to travel. Plus the lead singer, Linda Perry, is married to "Darlene" from Roseanne and that makes me happy:
I'm trying to get up that great big hill of hope for a destination. And I take a deep breath and I get real and I scream from the tops of my lungs 'What's going on?!' And I try, oh my God, do I try, I try all the time in this institution! And I pray, oh my God, do I pray, I pray every single day for a revolution!
***BONUS TRACK***
Just because I am such a fan of Riot Grrrl anthems and this is easily one of my most played tracks on my iPod. I am always looking to add music to my collection, so feel free to share any transformation/revolution suggestions that get your inner-protestor going in the comments! I leave you with "Rebel Girl" by the incomparable Bikini Kill. (And yes this IS the second time I have referenced this song on my blog. You're welcome, world. You are welcome. #kathleenhannaforlife)
Today, my world was changed. Moments after I awoke at 11am (sorry not sorry), I turned the TV on, with the intention of watching another episode of "How I Met Your Mother" on Netflix. Then I saw these words flashing on the bottom of Headline News:
Breaking News: Obama to Speak Momentarily on Same-Sex Marriage Equality
Of course, this caught my attention. I anxiously awaited PresidentObama's address and like a child listening to a story, I sat cross-legged, hands under my chin, leaning in with anticipation. I have always enjoyed listening to President Obama speak and today was no different. His words were sincere and compassionate, as well as booming since I had the volume turned up louder than usual. My mother entered the living room and asked what was going on.
I looked up at her, eyes glistening, and said, "Same-sex marriage is legal. In all 50 states!" She exclaimed, "Oh my god! Really???" as she sat next to me and held my hand. She asked if I would mind rewinding the address so she could see it from the beginning. Of course I didn't mind. We sat next to each other, tears streaming down my face, as my mother hugged me and said, "Congratulations! And it's about fucking time!"
I sniffled as President Obama declared, "love is love" and crowds cheered. My world was changed. I never thought, in my lifetime, I would see this day. I honestly thought the state-by-state "patchwork", as President Obama called it, would continue indefinitely, fearing more Proposition 8's or DOMAs. To know that I, as a bisexual woman, could potentially marry a woman and live ANYWHERE in the country without fear of my marriage not being recognized, is beyond validating. It's EMPOWERING. It's LIBERATING. It's FAIR.
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In my reverie, I was aware that many people were feeling as defeated as I did elated. And I respect that. I understand that many people view marriage as a religious sacrament and do not agree with not only gays and lesbians partaking in the institution, but anyone not respecting the religious and spiritual aspects of the ritual. I have held many intelligent conversations with such people and understand that train of thought. The idea that any union joined together, outside a religious ceremony, should not be called a marriage. Therefore, involving the government in such decisions invalidates the spiritual union.
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That being said, ALL opposite-sex marriages WERE recognized in every state, despite where the couple was joined in matrimony. It could have been a church or synagogue or court house or Graceland Wedding Chapel in Vegas. The couple could have known each other for 50 years or 50 minutes and it made no difference in the eyes of the law. The fact of the matter is, you need more than a church and a religion to marry legally in this country. You need a state-appointed marriage license. And that is not spiritual or religious. So, while I understand and empathize with those who oppose same-sex marriage, based on their spiritual definition of the institution, I respectfully disagree, with every fiber of my being, that the LGBTQIA+ community should continue to suffer inequality.
For those who disagree with marriage equality based solely on bigotry, hate, fear, intolerance, misogyny, and homophobia:
That's really what this fight has been about all along. Love. Not right or wrong. In fact, the Bible speaks boldly that love "always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres." 1 Corinthians 13:7. I, along with my LGBTQIA+ community, have done all four: protected ourselves and our families through and during this fight, trusted and hoped that this day would come, and persevered each time we took one step forward and two steps back. That is love. Our community makes me proud, as divided as we might be at times, and this is a time of joy and celebration, of what's to come in the future. A time of reflection and remembrance, for what we've accomplished and how far we've come.
Do we have more to do? Absolutely. (Find out how here) Fighting for equality is never-ending and always changing. We are always striving to be more educated, more inclusive, less divisive, and less judgmental. This is a marker in the LGBTQIA+ history books. A day where hope outweighed grief, and love outweighed hate. I imagine in ten years, I will look back on this blog post and think, Wow, I cannot believe this was even an issue. And then I'll blink myself from my living room to my bedroom, I Dream of Jeannie-style. (We're THIS close, I can feel it!)
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~Melissa~
*Title credit: Song: "She Keeps Me Warm" released by Mary Lambert in 2013
I have had to come out in several different ways, to many people, over the years. The first (and arguably most important) was coming out to myself. That took years and years of journal entries, tears, and online searches (before I was smart enough to erase search history!). Once I accepted, to myself, that I had an undeniable attraction to the ladies, I had to resolve what that meant. My coming out journey in 5 bullet points looks like this:
Told my parents I was bisexual in a note. They took said note to IHOP and my mother anxiously read the note ALOUD to my father over eggs and pancakes. They were both relieved to find out: "That was it? We thought you were pregnant or sick!" *BEST PARENTS EVER.*
Told my brother (He actually beat me to the punch as I nervously beat around the bush and this is why we are soul mates) and friends.
Started dated a woman and followed my New Year's Resolution for 2004 which was: "I will come out to my family before the end of 2004 or if I start dating a woman, whichever comes first." Only New Year's Res I ever kept.
Told my entire family. Some one-by-one (I received a ravioli dinner and margaritas from one thrilled family member-shout out to Auntie!), some as a group (think post-Easter Sunday dinner...)
Commence lifelong decisions about what to share and with whom, but always facing the risk of exposure to ignorance, intolerance, anger, rage, confusion, and disgust.
After 11 years of coming out to every friend and family member, most employers and co-workers, and select friends of friends it has gotten, somewhat (see previous post), easier. That being said, I never thought about other ways I might find myself "coming out" that could create equal parts denial and confusion.Which leads me to...
I do not want to have children.
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I know. I. KNOW.
Seeing as I am unattached, romantically, this revelation has not become much of a topic of conversation. (Especially since I have failed to concretely espouse this statement until now.) But I imagine I am speed skating on paper-thin ice. I have thrown this statement out willy-nilly at various points in my life, with little commitment or fervor. And even with my lack of sincerity, there has been a bit of a backlash.
Well-meaning family and friends have made assumptive statements, even when their advice was unsolicited. I have heard many versions of the "You'll change your mind" persuasion:
When you meet the right person
When you get a little older (this was in my 20's...I think by now, the idea is almost inconceivable...see what I did there? You're welcome.)
When everyone around you starts having babies
When you get settled in your career
I've also heard what I lovingly refer to as "the classics" from people who barely know me:
"But you love kids!"
"You would make a great mom!"
"There's nothing like having children." And my personal favorite...
"Being a mother is the most important/magnificent/wonderful thing a woman can do."
Now, I am well-aware the Child-free Movement is nothing new. I am also aware this blog post is a drop in the bucket of literally hundreds of others like it: here, here, and here. But this is my blog and my story. Considering most of my jobs have involved taking care of other people's children, coming out as child-free by choice has been challenging. It ends up sounding like: I so wanted children, until I took care of yours.
Quite the contrary. Being a babysitter, camp counselor, daycare teacher, and nanny has illuminated me to the extreme responsibility and dedication it takes to be a parent. Let me be clear, my reasons for remaining child-free are personal, carefully considered, and (for the most part) set in stone. I say that last piece, because it IS possible I could change my mind. But, to put it in clear terms, I am 98% sure I will not have children.
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I'm no statistician, but my reason for landing on that number seems simple: there is a 1% chance birth control could fail and and a 1% chance I will change my mind. To go "big picture" on you, when the weather reports calls for 98% chance of rain-you're bringing your umbrella, expecting rain, and shocked if it doesn't. That's how one should go forward with me and procreation.
As also mentioned, my reasons are personal (read: private) and, in my opinion, irrelevant to this conversation. While it's understandable a typical segue from such a proclamation would be "Why not?", the connotation reads that my reasons are up for discussion or debate. And they are not.
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For example, the thought of asking why my brother and sister-in-law are having a baby seems bonkers to me. That's a personal decision, made within the confines of their marriage, dealing with private topics such as fertility, finances, career, etc. So, when they revealed they were expecting, I wasn't struck with dozens of questions, trying to "understand" why they would make that decision. I was overjoyed for them and was consumed with emotion and tears when I found out. I am going to be one hell of an auntie and couldn't be happier.
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So, why then, should my decision NOT to have children permit people to make assumptions, share opinions, and throw judgments? It shouldn't and that's the point. Sure, I have felt that desire to get married and have children. Hell, I was in a state of near panic for months leading up to my little brother's wedding, questioning why my life had strayed so far from what I pictured at age 29. Then I realized the expectations I carried with me were so heavy, I wasn't even sure I wanted them anymore.
So, I tabled my expectations and got very zen about the process. I trusted in my mother's mantra that "everything happens for a reason" and decided not to worry about it, until it was time to worry about it. And I haven't worried about it since. It's a non-issue for me, a no-brainer. Maybe when I decided to stop freaking out about societal expectations, I hit the snooze button on my biological clock for infinity. Maybe at age 38, I'll marry someone with children and become a stepmom. Maybe at age 43, it will go off again and I will adopt "hard to place" children. Maybe at age 48, I'll still be content with a decision I made 15 years earlier and be living my life the best way I know how: with love, compassion, and authenticity. And isn't that what it's all about, anyway?
I
moved to South Carolina 3 weeks ago. I am already thinking about leaving. Maybe
I was too naïve, assuming there would be some
homophobia, racism, and sexism, quietly tucked away like in my native state of
Connecticut, because what I have experienced in the past three weeks way
surpasses some.
I
should begin by explaining I moved in with my parents, after a particularly
trying 2 years of mental anguish and hopping from job to job, hoping to relieve
my rampant Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder. Living with my parents, again, felt
like a good place to “clear my head” and get a “fresh start.” And it has been…from
inside the house.
I
have ventured out with my mother and her neighbor-friend on occasion and in the
sixty minutes spent in her presence was met with all three. To be fair, my
neighbor is ten years my mother’s senior and has lived in this town her entire
life. I tried to remind myself of that when my anger began to bubble up in my
throat and mouth. And maybe that is why I have failed to speak up. Something that
is profoundly foreign to me.
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At
33, I feel less inclined to rally for my rights than I did at 23. Why is that?
Is it easier? Is it all to “protect
my parents”? Is it really to avoid making them pariahs in the neighborhood,
long after I’m gone? Or is there a deeper issue here?
It’s
possible I’ve put my own needs (calming my mental unrest, figuring out my next
move…) above my previously innate desire to fight for human rights in a “loud
and proud” way. And if that is the case, I am supremely unhappy with my
decision. In doing that, I am rejecting the very reason I left everything in
the northeast in the first place: to become a more authentic person. By
shunning that part of myself, in the name of “being a good neighbor” and
“making things easier for my parents”, I am setting myself back at least 15 years…
Residing
in the very state that still flies a Confederate flag, where racism is as
common as a Waffle House, woke me up to the damage I was undeniably doing.
Denying my sexual identity as queer, bisexual, pansexual (insert whichever term
fits someone who has no bias on the gender, gender identity, or sexual identity
of the person she wishes to date…), enduring racist comments, and accepting
sexist assumptions not only quietly concedes to such ways of thinking, it
actually speaks for me stating: “I agree.” AND I VERY DON’T.
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So,
what to do? I have weeks and weeks of self-exploration left before I feel
willing and able to obtain a job and resume contributing to society. The answer
is not simple, as it rarely is. I’m unsure what to do in the large sense, but
in the micro sense I need to continue my journey to authenticity. I need to
reconnect with the woman who marched in the New York City Gay Pride parade, not
two feet behind the mayor, and proudly smiled as she walked, alone, through the
subways decorated head-to-toe in rainbows.
The woman who participated in the
National Day of Silence on her college campus and watched as passersby took our
flyers, promptly crumpled them, and threw them at us, when they realized what
we were standing for.
The woman who was verbally assaulted by the word “Dyke!”
while walking down her street, holding her girlfriend’s hand.
The woman who
challenged Pro-Life protestors outside Planned Parenthood.
The woman who for 2
years hung an enormous rainbow flag in her living room window.
The woman who
felt secure in her spirituality when countless churches told her “once you
repent, God will forgive you.”
That woman is still inside me. She is screaming
to get out, shouting to be heard, despite acceptance from the world. She wants
to make a difference, again, no matter the cost. I think it’s time I let her
freely roam this globe again.
