‘I did so to remind myself that whatever I believe at any given time could very well be wrong. I did so as a commitment to be someone whose mind and heart could be changed with every new learning‘ This spoke so deeply to me. Thank you ❤️
I have not had the joy of going to my first gay bar or club or anything like it. I re came out to my parents recently, and right now anywhere with alcohol and synthesizers are not my kind of place. Can't drink because of my meds and can't do synth because of my headaches. I'm lucky to listen to the Bubble Guppies "line up" song once without wanting to scream and bash the phone into the wall. We don't talk about strobes either...
I HAVE seen the community. In my catholic high school government class, when two girls held hands and cuddled without a care in the world. When we had a coexist club, the closest thing a Catholic prep school would ever have to a GSA. Mind you, this was 2010-2014, so nowhere recent, but I felt love and acceptance for things inside me I couldn't quite name yet. At my first pride in 2016, I was in college. Doing Eating School, on a Saturday in DC, and the group of us wore outfits that would challenge us, bare our insecurities and our bodies to the world and each other. In the name of freedom and the name of love, to defy ourselves and our brains the way people in the parades and the sidelines defy the laws that say we can't love how we want to, yet here there's people kissing and wearing leather and bringing their kids and having so much joy. I wish I could bottle that joy.
Heels to me are a weapon. I can't wear them myself, I have no balance. I'm lucky if I don't twist my ankle in a wedge, honestly. They're as powerful as a multi-tool. An instant confidence boost and applicable in many situations. And, if you dare, used like a Latina mother's chancla, very very powerful. (note that I am not Latina, but I know enough friends' moms that you do NOT mess around with that). Anything can be a weapon if you think creatively, though.
Today I find strength from my friends. I need it right now, honestly. They tweaked how much cerebrospinal fluid drains in my brain and while I've never been hung over I now have a pretty good idea of what that feels like. I never EVER want to be hung over, friends, it's not worth it.
Tomorrow is Thanksgiving and I'm suiting up for battle, hopeful that I'll be able to fight for truth and justice against fatphobia and diet culture. Might as well fight against homophobia while I'm at it, that's a popular topic at tables too. And I LOVE GIRLS AND I'M NOT ASHAMED OF IT. While my family may be, my life is too short to wait for the Right Time, when it's never clear on the conditions needed to establish such a time. I draw strength from the survivors of so many tragedies, from shootings to family deaths to natural disasters, it never ends. And I draw strength from myself, eeking out a little squeeze every now and then. Somehow this body keeps moving and beating and breathing despite all the muck.
I believe in love. My name is latin for much love, and that's both to give and hopefully receive. I love you, friends. If you need support, holla over here, I've got you. All 62 inches of me will fill with fury and go at em like a force no one has never seen.
Chills. Your words gave me massive, goosebumps-on-goosebumps chills. Thank you for this. As the mother of a gender non-conforming human, I am often in awe of how absolutely kind, loving, and resilient they are. I was a Marine and I have 1/100th of the bravery and resiliency they have. Determination to be exactly who they are on any given day. Some days, it's time for a dress, full makeup, jewelry, and Doc Martins. Some days, it's time for slicked back hair, a binder, jeans, tee shirt, and sneakers. And this news terrifies me, for them. But they just say, "Mom. We cannot, and I will not, live our lives in fear of imbecilic, fear-mongering, bigots." Sending you, and everyone here, all the love I have in my momma-heart. <3
Thanks for this nice reflective prompt! I've been finding a lot of strength in phone calls with the long distance elders in my life, especially my 81 year old former high school biology teacher turned dear friend. He tells me about his seed saving and his winter snack plans and his past lives. When our conversation lags I name a tree I can see from where I'm standing and he tells me whatever he knows about them (which is a lot). If you had told me 20 years ago that a genuine "poor baby" from the toughest teacher I ever had would be the balm it is I would have keeled over from shock, but here we are. Chosen fam.
The unexpected place I find strength is watching my dog. It's silly but he gets up every day and tries 1) to pull me to the park and 2) to catch a squirrel. Even though we go to the park every single day and he still wants to go as badly as if he's never been before. And even though he's never caught a squirrel but tries just as hard as if he's about to catch one. I'd like to be like that. Enjoy what I love without being jaded, and go after what I want no matter how much it looks like I'll never get it. <3
As a fairly recent widow I am discovering that so many emotions can be happening along side grief.
I grieve for the love I shared with my husband. I grieve for my 15 year old lesbian granddaughter's journey. I am afraid for her future although she believes she is invincible. Perhaps she is. But grief isn't the entire story. But in this liminal space I find myself in, I also feel love, hope and light, and those are the things, have the ability to sustain me. There is much we have to offer each other. Let us speak our truth. Thank you.
I have a series of tattoos on my inner arm. A compass, an anchor, a key, an arrow that aims forward when I point, an infinity symbol and a semi colon. They remind me that I drive myself, and that I ground myself. But mostly, I keep moving; in mind, experience and knowledge. That is MY responsibility. I know I cannot control events, or teach those who do not wish to learn, but I can do my personal best each day to be kind respectful and loving.
Thank you for sharing about the stilettos' historical role. I was unaware and considered high heels to be a form of subservience to social norms. But the fact that a spiked shoe can be used for self defense makes me smile. Today I'm grateful for my orthotics and comfortable shoes.
A beautiful essay. I'm not sure how anyone can feel such hatred for ANYONE. But I feel such joy and love reading this message of unity, written with clarity and true understanding.
I am so saddened by the violence and sorry for those living in fear. Why can’t we learn to listen and thoughtfully, kindly, disagree? That would allow us to be open to new learnings, as you discussed. As I navigate transitions with some of my family members, I learn over and over how important it is to listen first, instead of just react.
I am 65, I grew up with a transgendered cousin who did her transitional surgeries in Europe, probably early to mid 70’s. I remember our family filling her fridge and putting curtains up when he came home. She worked as a Gardner at the local college and was loved by those around her. As a therapist, I have seen the cruelty to my trans clients, one who was asked to “prove” she was female before being allowed to sleep in a local shelter. I still have so much to learn in how I can support people around me. I hope it is with grace.
Shout out for nocosafespace.com. We all need to be be inclusive in even our casual conversation to educate and protect. My daughter’s best female friend was jumped and beaten by 3 men in parking lot of Denver’s X Bar one week ago. She had to help pull them off, hurt to free her friend. Police report filed. Footage pulled. No resolution yet. Please be vigilant and prepared. Abrazos!
The first thing I did was check the city, and breathe a sigh of relief it was quite a ways from you all. And I reminded myself that you and your family there wouldn't be in a club anyway, there are bugs amongst the love nowdays that that you still need to shield from. I had a cup of coffee before I read the details. I kept asking myself is this self care or cowardice, wanting to put off reading the article. The headline told me what happened, do I really need the details? Yes. Yes I do.
Shades of Pulse, how the first shots were thought to be part of the beat mix. And then how the crowd became the courage to tackle and beat the shit out of the shooter so badly he was among the hospitalized. The small tales of friends grabbing friends and dragging them to safety, knowing how and where because they had already had a plan just in case. I was torn between pride and grief, and then I found they can exist in the same space.
‘I did so to remind myself that whatever I believe at any given time could very well be wrong. I did so as a commitment to be someone whose mind and heart could be changed with every new learning‘ This spoke so deeply to me. Thank you ❤️
I have not had the joy of going to my first gay bar or club or anything like it. I re came out to my parents recently, and right now anywhere with alcohol and synthesizers are not my kind of place. Can't drink because of my meds and can't do synth because of my headaches. I'm lucky to listen to the Bubble Guppies "line up" song once without wanting to scream and bash the phone into the wall. We don't talk about strobes either...
I HAVE seen the community. In my catholic high school government class, when two girls held hands and cuddled without a care in the world. When we had a coexist club, the closest thing a Catholic prep school would ever have to a GSA. Mind you, this was 2010-2014, so nowhere recent, but I felt love and acceptance for things inside me I couldn't quite name yet. At my first pride in 2016, I was in college. Doing Eating School, on a Saturday in DC, and the group of us wore outfits that would challenge us, bare our insecurities and our bodies to the world and each other. In the name of freedom and the name of love, to defy ourselves and our brains the way people in the parades and the sidelines defy the laws that say we can't love how we want to, yet here there's people kissing and wearing leather and bringing their kids and having so much joy. I wish I could bottle that joy.
Heels to me are a weapon. I can't wear them myself, I have no balance. I'm lucky if I don't twist my ankle in a wedge, honestly. They're as powerful as a multi-tool. An instant confidence boost and applicable in many situations. And, if you dare, used like a Latina mother's chancla, very very powerful. (note that I am not Latina, but I know enough friends' moms that you do NOT mess around with that). Anything can be a weapon if you think creatively, though.
Today I find strength from my friends. I need it right now, honestly. They tweaked how much cerebrospinal fluid drains in my brain and while I've never been hung over I now have a pretty good idea of what that feels like. I never EVER want to be hung over, friends, it's not worth it.
Tomorrow is Thanksgiving and I'm suiting up for battle, hopeful that I'll be able to fight for truth and justice against fatphobia and diet culture. Might as well fight against homophobia while I'm at it, that's a popular topic at tables too. And I LOVE GIRLS AND I'M NOT ASHAMED OF IT. While my family may be, my life is too short to wait for the Right Time, when it's never clear on the conditions needed to establish such a time. I draw strength from the survivors of so many tragedies, from shootings to family deaths to natural disasters, it never ends. And I draw strength from myself, eeking out a little squeeze every now and then. Somehow this body keeps moving and beating and breathing despite all the muck.
I believe in love. My name is latin for much love, and that's both to give and hopefully receive. I love you, friends. If you need support, holla over here, I've got you. All 62 inches of me will fill with fury and go at em like a force no one has never seen.
In the name of love, of course.
- Mandy
Chills. Your words gave me massive, goosebumps-on-goosebumps chills. Thank you for this. As the mother of a gender non-conforming human, I am often in awe of how absolutely kind, loving, and resilient they are. I was a Marine and I have 1/100th of the bravery and resiliency they have. Determination to be exactly who they are on any given day. Some days, it's time for a dress, full makeup, jewelry, and Doc Martins. Some days, it's time for slicked back hair, a binder, jeans, tee shirt, and sneakers. And this news terrifies me, for them. But they just say, "Mom. We cannot, and I will not, live our lives in fear of imbecilic, fear-mongering, bigots." Sending you, and everyone here, all the love I have in my momma-heart. <3
Thanks for this nice reflective prompt! I've been finding a lot of strength in phone calls with the long distance elders in my life, especially my 81 year old former high school biology teacher turned dear friend. He tells me about his seed saving and his winter snack plans and his past lives. When our conversation lags I name a tree I can see from where I'm standing and he tells me whatever he knows about them (which is a lot). If you had told me 20 years ago that a genuine "poor baby" from the toughest teacher I ever had would be the balm it is I would have keeled over from shock, but here we are. Chosen fam.
The unexpected place I find strength is watching my dog. It's silly but he gets up every day and tries 1) to pull me to the park and 2) to catch a squirrel. Even though we go to the park every single day and he still wants to go as badly as if he's never been before. And even though he's never caught a squirrel but tries just as hard as if he's about to catch one. I'd like to be like that. Enjoy what I love without being jaded, and go after what I want no matter how much it looks like I'll never get it. <3
Yes, AND.
Nobody who wears what they want is ever wearing the wrong clothes.
As a fairly recent widow I am discovering that so many emotions can be happening along side grief.
I grieve for the love I shared with my husband. I grieve for my 15 year old lesbian granddaughter's journey. I am afraid for her future although she believes she is invincible. Perhaps she is. But grief isn't the entire story. But in this liminal space I find myself in, I also feel love, hope and light, and those are the things, have the ability to sustain me. There is much we have to offer each other. Let us speak our truth. Thank you.
I have a series of tattoos on my inner arm. A compass, an anchor, a key, an arrow that aims forward when I point, an infinity symbol and a semi colon. They remind me that I drive myself, and that I ground myself. But mostly, I keep moving; in mind, experience and knowledge. That is MY responsibility. I know I cannot control events, or teach those who do not wish to learn, but I can do my personal best each day to be kind respectful and loving.
Thank you for sharing about the stilettos' historical role. I was unaware and considered high heels to be a form of subservience to social norms. But the fact that a spiked shoe can be used for self defense makes me smile. Today I'm grateful for my orthotics and comfortable shoes.
A beautiful essay. I'm not sure how anyone can feel such hatred for ANYONE. But I feel such joy and love reading this message of unity, written with clarity and true understanding.
I am so saddened by the violence and sorry for those living in fear. Why can’t we learn to listen and thoughtfully, kindly, disagree? That would allow us to be open to new learnings, as you discussed. As I navigate transitions with some of my family members, I learn over and over how important it is to listen first, instead of just react.
I am 65, I grew up with a transgendered cousin who did her transitional surgeries in Europe, probably early to mid 70’s. I remember our family filling her fridge and putting curtains up when he came home. She worked as a Gardner at the local college and was loved by those around her. As a therapist, I have seen the cruelty to my trans clients, one who was asked to “prove” she was female before being allowed to sleep in a local shelter. I still have so much to learn in how I can support people around me. I hope it is with grace.
Thank you. Beautiful.
Shout out for nocosafespace.com. We all need to be be inclusive in even our casual conversation to educate and protect. My daughter’s best female friend was jumped and beaten by 3 men in parking lot of Denver’s X Bar one week ago. She had to help pull them off, hurt to free her friend. Police report filed. Footage pulled. No resolution yet. Please be vigilant and prepared. Abrazos!
The first thing I did was check the city, and breathe a sigh of relief it was quite a ways from you all. And I reminded myself that you and your family there wouldn't be in a club anyway, there are bugs amongst the love nowdays that that you still need to shield from. I had a cup of coffee before I read the details. I kept asking myself is this self care or cowardice, wanting to put off reading the article. The headline told me what happened, do I really need the details? Yes. Yes I do.
Shades of Pulse, how the first shots were thought to be part of the beat mix. And then how the crowd became the courage to tackle and beat the shit out of the shooter so badly he was among the hospitalized. The small tales of friends grabbing friends and dragging them to safety, knowing how and where because they had already had a plan just in case. I was torn between pride and grief, and then I found they can exist in the same space.
Reading your words gives me strength and connection today, along with a sense of community even though we’ve never know each other. Thank you.