I had an interesting talk with someone who was also gay and we had an interesting conversation. He was stating, and I agreed that we both had more female friends than gay male friends. And it made may me ask myself, can gay men be friends without the benefit of having sex.
Hell can we just be friends without the shade we give each other or the value of seeing someone beyond their sexual organs?
I don't want to whitewash and make assumptions that everyone has the same experience as it may just be me so all I can do is tell my story but I know for myself there has been several cases where I have struck a conversation with someone in the gym or the coffeeshop and after talking about interests and just general stuff in the world, the conversation will eventually shift to one of sex. Your eyes open and you realize that all the conversations were about getting the cookies! If you don't know what I mean by 'cookies' it's the thing that most people think with and it's not above the waistline.
And the crazy thing I learned is that if you don't give up the cookies, they don't want nothing to do with you and if you do give up the cookies, then they got what they wanted and don't want nothing to do with you. You're damned if you do and damned if you don't.
Recently I told myself that I was going to stop being 'so busy' and make the time and effort to meet new gay male friends. I was not going to let myself fall into the trap and think that all men think about was sex.When meeting someone I was going to make it clear from the beginning that my intent was cultivating a friendship with no expectation or desire of having sex. I went into this knowing that as you get older it is hard to make friends. Mostly because of the time. With work and other day to day things you already have in your life, establishing a new friendship takes some work. Work that won't fit on your plate if it's already full. But I was determined and I told myself I was going to make the time.
They always say be careful what you ask for.
I met a guy in Starbucks where I was working on a play and he must have seen my work over my shoulder. Being an artist he introduced himself and after awhile I figured he was gay even though we never stated it. I just knew. We exchanged numbers with the intent of making a new friend. We talked and I shared a little about myself, about my partner and my interests. He did the same.We tried several times to set a lunch/dinner meeting but with both of our schedules it was going to be hard. Eventually I asked if he wanted to go on my grocery store run with me. Being that groceries are more expensive in the city and I have a car I usually drive 20 minutes upstate and go to my grocery store where I can stock up on the essentials cheaply. I usually also if time allows, stop at the pet store or do some clothes shopping. So I let him know although it was not the normal meeting we could talk on the drive up and back and if time allowed, stop for lunch.
He was a cool person and it was cool to hear about his music and his family and even the guy he was dating. With all the talking I realized time was going by fast. To fast as I had to get back to the city as I had a final paper I had to do for class. Because of this I told him we might have to bypass the lunch as I way behind schedule.
From that moment the person I was trying to know turned into something I didn't want to know. He started with how he was expecting lunch and felt mislead. I took ownership of that and apologized and stating that I didn't realize that all the casual conversation we had would push back the clock. Since he didn't eat fast food I offered to stop at a diner where he could get take out.I was lucky to find a parking spot and a diner. I figured I would sit in the car while he went in and got his stuff. When he saw i wasn't following him he looked at me as if I was crazy and expressed since I was messing up his time the least I could do was buy his lunch, something we never agreed on. Still going on the fact that I did say we would have lunch, yet never saying I would buy him lunch, I put my tongue in my pocket and went into the diner with him to pay. He proceeded to order and a voice in my head said, "I bet you he's going to take advantage of this.' And sure enough he ordered lunch and extra items that could he probably could have as left over for his dinner. I still held my tongue as I gave the cashier my Visa. But in my head I told myself, "When people show you who they are, you better believe them." So by his actions he showed me what kind of person he was.
You'd think it'd be over but for the next several miles back he proceed to go into this tirade about past trust issues and people saying and doing one other thing. You would swear we were an old married couple who were married for twenty years. I just stared blankly looking for the NYC city limit. He must have tired himself out with his speech and finally got quiet but as I quickly accelerated the car to get into my turn lane he started up again. "You don't care about my life" "You have no respect for the way I feel" "Let me out"
Hallelujah, just the words I was looking for as I crossed traffic lanes and the first chance I had screeched the car to a stop and the moment he got out, closed the door and did my best Duke of Hazzard impression and screeched off, never looking in my rear view mirror.
Is this what it's going to take to make friends?
But i told myself i wasn't going to let that experience make me bitter, that there are good people out there. And not to say he wasn't a good person, but it just wasn't a good match and you can't be friends with everyone you meet.
I just think it's important to have friendly relationships and if you have to do it with your body, then it's not a true friendship, it's simply one with benefits. I've since met some great people and know it can happen.We all start out as strangers. We sometimes try to fool ourselves that we don't need anyone in this world but we all need someone we can call on as a friend.
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
Friday, December 24, 2010
Black Christmas
I remember as a young boy the snow crunching underneath my winter boots which held my small feet which themselves were covered in three different pair of socks as a challenge to the freezing biting Minnesota cold. The air that escaped from my mouth gave the impression that I was smoking as white wisp of air escaped every time I exhaled.
The sun had already made her exit and in its place was Mr. Moon being stingy with his light. It didn't matter because I was standing in front of my house, a house covered in brightly multicolored lights that blinked at me and every few seconds the lights that trimmed the house would dance for me.
Sitting inside the warm house was the tall regal tree covered in colored balls and on it more lights, the ones that won the lottery as they didn't have to entertain those outside. It was Christmas and like the words in the song it was the best time of the year.
Actually the best thing about Christmas was the gifts that were under the tree. My brother and sisters would count each package to see who had the most as each one was picked up and shook as we tried to guess what was hidden inside.
We knew that no matter what was in them Santa didn't bring them as our mother who raised us alone and lived during the civil rights era refused to give credit to a white man in a beard as she was the one who worked overtime to make sure we had gifts.
Christmas Eve seemed like it was lasting forever. But we knew the day was close. The smell of glazed Ham and the sweetness of sweet potato pie danced in the air as the dinner for tomorrow was getting a head start. We had to learn to guess the smells of what she was cooking as mama had one rule, "Don't come into my kitchen!"
We were content with the bowl of nuts and oranges that sat on the living room table. In the background on the television Frosty the Snowman was playing, he was never my favorite. I much preferred the animated 'The Little Drummer Boy.'
Christmas was a time when my siblings and I called a truce. No name calling, punching each other or fighting over the remote control. We were all in agreement that Christmas was a day of love for each other.
We anxiously looked at the clock as if staring at it would make the hands move faster. We were waiting for midnight as it was a tradition that we could open up one gift. When the midnight hour would come our mother would tease us and make us wait an additional minute which might as well have been another hour. When permission was given we raced to the tree. For some reason we always picked the small box as we knew the big box was meant for Christmas day. We learned early how to become good actors at a young age as sometimes you opened the gift and as a child you're asking yourself "What am I supposed to do with socks, I already have some." But you don't show that emotion on your face instead you take your smile out of your pocket and thank ma.
We eventually had to go to bed but we laid in bed determined to stay awake until the morning, but each year we lost the battle to the Sandman.
Christmas morning!
We seemed to have the same clock as we raced to the bedroom and asked our ma was it okay if we opened up our gifts. In her half sleep mode she would tell us to go ahead and off we ran, running past the kitchen, briefly noticing that there was now chocolate cake and homemade apple pie next to the sweet potato pies, where did those come from?
It was a brief thought as we tore into the gifts, paper flying everywhere, the tree looking down at us make a mess. Each opened gift we stopped and marvel our gifts to the others. Sometimes showing a brief jealousy at what they got but then satisfied when we saw something we wanted.
"Hey I need some D size batteries!"
Afterwards the tree was embarrassed as it was now naked, no longer teasing us with wrapped boxes but instead surrounded by torn paper. And the unity we had before was on hold as we were off in different areas of the house playing with our gifts.
We were never the perfect family but on that day we seemed to be what we should have always been. Yes the day was about Christ and not about material items but in a child's eye Christmas is not only about the gifts but also the one day when peace on earth also existed in our house if even for just that day.
As an adult I have to draw on those memories as the excitement of Christmas becomes replaced with worries about bills, money and loves lost and gone.
We forget about the peace but if we allow ourselves for one day to reflect on peace, although we may not have the wrapped gifts, we're still left with a gift.
Happy Holidays!
The sun had already made her exit and in its place was Mr. Moon being stingy with his light. It didn't matter because I was standing in front of my house, a house covered in brightly multicolored lights that blinked at me and every few seconds the lights that trimmed the house would dance for me.
Sitting inside the warm house was the tall regal tree covered in colored balls and on it more lights, the ones that won the lottery as they didn't have to entertain those outside. It was Christmas and like the words in the song it was the best time of the year.
Actually the best thing about Christmas was the gifts that were under the tree. My brother and sisters would count each package to see who had the most as each one was picked up and shook as we tried to guess what was hidden inside.
We knew that no matter what was in them Santa didn't bring them as our mother who raised us alone and lived during the civil rights era refused to give credit to a white man in a beard as she was the one who worked overtime to make sure we had gifts.
Christmas Eve seemed like it was lasting forever. But we knew the day was close. The smell of glazed Ham and the sweetness of sweet potato pie danced in the air as the dinner for tomorrow was getting a head start. We had to learn to guess the smells of what she was cooking as mama had one rule, "Don't come into my kitchen!"
We were content with the bowl of nuts and oranges that sat on the living room table. In the background on the television Frosty the Snowman was playing, he was never my favorite. I much preferred the animated 'The Little Drummer Boy.'
Christmas was a time when my siblings and I called a truce. No name calling, punching each other or fighting over the remote control. We were all in agreement that Christmas was a day of love for each other.
We anxiously looked at the clock as if staring at it would make the hands move faster. We were waiting for midnight as it was a tradition that we could open up one gift. When the midnight hour would come our mother would tease us and make us wait an additional minute which might as well have been another hour. When permission was given we raced to the tree. For some reason we always picked the small box as we knew the big box was meant for Christmas day. We learned early how to become good actors at a young age as sometimes you opened the gift and as a child you're asking yourself "What am I supposed to do with socks, I already have some." But you don't show that emotion on your face instead you take your smile out of your pocket and thank ma.
We eventually had to go to bed but we laid in bed determined to stay awake until the morning, but each year we lost the battle to the Sandman.
Christmas morning!
We seemed to have the same clock as we raced to the bedroom and asked our ma was it okay if we opened up our gifts. In her half sleep mode she would tell us to go ahead and off we ran, running past the kitchen, briefly noticing that there was now chocolate cake and homemade apple pie next to the sweet potato pies, where did those come from?
It was a brief thought as we tore into the gifts, paper flying everywhere, the tree looking down at us make a mess. Each opened gift we stopped and marvel our gifts to the others. Sometimes showing a brief jealousy at what they got but then satisfied when we saw something we wanted.
"Hey I need some D size batteries!"
Afterwards the tree was embarrassed as it was now naked, no longer teasing us with wrapped boxes but instead surrounded by torn paper. And the unity we had before was on hold as we were off in different areas of the house playing with our gifts.
We were never the perfect family but on that day we seemed to be what we should have always been. Yes the day was about Christ and not about material items but in a child's eye Christmas is not only about the gifts but also the one day when peace on earth also existed in our house if even for just that day.
As an adult I have to draw on those memories as the excitement of Christmas becomes replaced with worries about bills, money and loves lost and gone.
We forget about the peace but if we allow ourselves for one day to reflect on peace, although we may not have the wrapped gifts, we're still left with a gift.
Happy Holidays!
Saturday, December 18, 2010
You Don't Look Like You Have HIV
It's so funny that when I let people know that I'm HIV positive, the first thing they say is, you don't look like you have the disease. "You look muscualr and your face is so clear" "Are you sure you have it?"
Yes after 24 years i think I'm pretty sure.
What exactly is the look? It may come off as a compliment but in actuality what does HIV look like? I know that in the early days of the virus there was a look. Before today's medication you had people with sores on their face or people who were once healthy looking, now you could see bones pressed against the skin. There was a "look" but not anymore. I can understand how people can be fooled as they see ads advertising HIV medication, mine included which recently ran in national magazines, and they see how healthy the person look, with mentioned clear skin, for men a muscular build or someone giving a beautiful smile.
But underneath that the virus still exist and there is no look. I say this because I have a new friend who doesn't know my status as I have no intentions of having sex with him as we're just friends (And yes gay men can have friend's with another gay men without having sex, but that's another post dealing with ignorance)3
He is a good person but stated to me that he can tell if someone has HIV. According to him, there a certain fat that exist around the stomach which is a cause of that person taking HIV medication.
What?
Could it be because that person like junk food or hasn't made it to the gym recently or even that's the way that person genes operate?
People have sex based on this idea of what the look looks like. And if you're at the club, add chemicals like alcohol or drugs and that illusion really becomes your truthful reality and the next thing you know you're having unprotected sex.
I want to make clear that not everyone with HIV hide their status, especially knowing they are about to have an sexual act. Most are responsible to let you know their status or if they don't tell you their status, make sure that they use every precaution to make sure their sexual partner is safe.
But we have to be real and admit that their is a small number of people who will not share that information because they're thinking with the wrong head and letting that head make the decision for them.
And it's not that they're evil but in an earlier post I talked about rejection and sometimes that person just don't want to be rejected based on their status.
So is this a safe sex message?
Yes!
The rates in the African-American community is rising and it's not that we're getting any different messages than the other races. Yes their are other barriers that make us place ourselves at risk such as self-esteem, oppression, lack of education, racism and "I got so much other things to worry about in my life that AIDS is low on my list"But it can't be low especially if you're sexually active.
What's missing is the communication. Sometimes we put more effort in what shoes or outfit we're going to buy than who we sleep with. And we live in that reality that not only can we tell who's HIV but also who's gay.
I used to get on a friend who is recently divorced and she feels she has nothing to worry about since the man she's seeing is having sex with her and since he doesn't look like he has AIDS she has nothing to worry about.
he listens to Hip-hop and he has a deep voice and a strong hands shake-so there's no way.
I had to bust her bubble because I know from experience in my wild days that I fooled with men who during their lunch break would seek male companionship and get home from work at the same time as if nothing happened and the girlfriend and the wife was none the wiser. All you have to do around lunch time is check out Craigslist.org which is a website for those unfamiliar with it, and see how many married or straight men are looking for an afternoon Scooby snack.
It takes two to get infected and it also takes two to communicate and just one look at a person will not let you know what their sexual history is.
And if you're married or in a committed relationship you still need that communication. And if your Spider sense is going off, get tested because it's easier to deal with any disease early before it gets out of hand than waiting until damage is done.
So say it all together. There is no look! and if you have been having unprotected sex with anyone, if you want tot know what the look looks like, just look in the mirror. That's what HIV/AIDS look like!
Yes after 24 years i think I'm pretty sure.
What exactly is the look? It may come off as a compliment but in actuality what does HIV look like? I know that in the early days of the virus there was a look. Before today's medication you had people with sores on their face or people who were once healthy looking, now you could see bones pressed against the skin. There was a "look" but not anymore. I can understand how people can be fooled as they see ads advertising HIV medication, mine included which recently ran in national magazines, and they see how healthy the person look, with mentioned clear skin, for men a muscular build or someone giving a beautiful smile.
But underneath that the virus still exist and there is no look. I say this because I have a new friend who doesn't know my status as I have no intentions of having sex with him as we're just friends (And yes gay men can have friend's with another gay men without having sex, but that's another post dealing with ignorance)3
He is a good person but stated to me that he can tell if someone has HIV. According to him, there a certain fat that exist around the stomach which is a cause of that person taking HIV medication.
What?
Could it be because that person like junk food or hasn't made it to the gym recently or even that's the way that person genes operate?
People have sex based on this idea of what the look looks like. And if you're at the club, add chemicals like alcohol or drugs and that illusion really becomes your truthful reality and the next thing you know you're having unprotected sex.
I want to make clear that not everyone with HIV hide their status, especially knowing they are about to have an sexual act. Most are responsible to let you know their status or if they don't tell you their status, make sure that they use every precaution to make sure their sexual partner is safe.
But we have to be real and admit that their is a small number of people who will not share that information because they're thinking with the wrong head and letting that head make the decision for them.
And it's not that they're evil but in an earlier post I talked about rejection and sometimes that person just don't want to be rejected based on their status.
So is this a safe sex message?
Yes!
The rates in the African-American community is rising and it's not that we're getting any different messages than the other races. Yes their are other barriers that make us place ourselves at risk such as self-esteem, oppression, lack of education, racism and "I got so much other things to worry about in my life that AIDS is low on my list"But it can't be low especially if you're sexually active.
What's missing is the communication. Sometimes we put more effort in what shoes or outfit we're going to buy than who we sleep with. And we live in that reality that not only can we tell who's HIV but also who's gay.
I used to get on a friend who is recently divorced and she feels she has nothing to worry about since the man she's seeing is having sex with her and since he doesn't look like he has AIDS she has nothing to worry about.
he listens to Hip-hop and he has a deep voice and a strong hands shake-so there's no way.
I had to bust her bubble because I know from experience in my wild days that I fooled with men who during their lunch break would seek male companionship and get home from work at the same time as if nothing happened and the girlfriend and the wife was none the wiser. All you have to do around lunch time is check out Craigslist.org which is a website for those unfamiliar with it, and see how many married or straight men are looking for an afternoon Scooby snack.
It takes two to get infected and it also takes two to communicate and just one look at a person will not let you know what their sexual history is.
And if you're married or in a committed relationship you still need that communication. And if your Spider sense is going off, get tested because it's easier to deal with any disease early before it gets out of hand than waiting until damage is done.
So say it all together. There is no look! and if you have been having unprotected sex with anyone, if you want tot know what the look looks like, just look in the mirror. That's what HIV/AIDS look like!
Friday, December 10, 2010
What Happens to a Child Never Hugged
I was in the third grade and it was show and tell. Everyone else had something to show and I just had something to tell. I don't know what possessed me but I remember standing before the class and sharing my telling. With no dramatics I plainly stated what I wanted to share.
"I hate my mother"
That was all I had to say and walked backed to my desk in silence. There was no questions asked why I felt that way or what made me say it, not from the teacher or the other students.
The one person who did want to know why I said it was my mother. This was before the new technologies such as Facebook and Twitter, but by time I got home she already knew what I said and she stood in the living room waiting for me.
She glared at me.
"So you hate me huh?" I'll give you something to hate me for"
The race was on as she pulled out her freshly cut switch and like a cheetah I turned and ran out the door with her behind me getting in as many hits as she could.
I was regulated to my room for the rest of the month but when you're young it feels longer.
My mother never hugged me.
That wasn't the reason for my statement but I think my young self knew that I was missing out on an important connection between mother and child. Growing up we were scared of her. We would hear her pull in from work and no matter what we were doing, whether it was watching television, making Ramen Noodles or talking on the phone, we would stop what we were doing and run. Then we would wait in our room waiting to hear how her mood was. Did she have a good day or bad? Because if was bad we knew the day was going to be bad for us.
We never used to run from her but I remember how one day she came home from work and me and my three siblings ran out to greet her.
Her response, "Why are you motherfuckers embarrassing me?
It was the last day we ran to her.
These memories came back when I had a recent dinner with my cousin. His mother being my mother's sister had so much in common that I never realized it.All this time I thought I was alone in my experience but he shared the same story of him never hearing his mother saying she loved him.But she bought them stuff.
Stuff!
It made me realize that that's how my mother and her siblings were raised.
The way my mother showed love was through material items. By providing a roof over our heads, buying groceries, putting gifts under the tree, to her that was love.
During my time as a youth worker I worked with so many families that did the same thing. That considered buying their child a XBox 360 showed their sense of love.
I think I would have rather went on an empty stomach just to experience a hug of love.
What happens to a child never hugged?
They learn to not hug back and they reach in their wallet to show their love. They feel a emptiness, a non-completed bond. They don't know how to accept hugs because it's so unusual and makes one feel there's a hidden agenda.
Now that I'm older I do realize she gave what she got. What I had to learn was how to break that cycle.
I wished during that time of show and tell instead of telling everyone I hate my mother, that I could say "I don't care what my mother buys for me, I just want her hug."
What happens to a child never hugged?
It depends, some learn how to learn about love themselves, some forget how to fly and some use bitterness as the dirt that fills their empty garden.
No material object can replace the touch of a parent.
"I hate my mother"
That was all I had to say and walked backed to my desk in silence. There was no questions asked why I felt that way or what made me say it, not from the teacher or the other students.
The one person who did want to know why I said it was my mother. This was before the new technologies such as Facebook and Twitter, but by time I got home she already knew what I said and she stood in the living room waiting for me.
She glared at me.
"So you hate me huh?" I'll give you something to hate me for"
The race was on as she pulled out her freshly cut switch and like a cheetah I turned and ran out the door with her behind me getting in as many hits as she could.
I was regulated to my room for the rest of the month but when you're young it feels longer.
My mother never hugged me.
That wasn't the reason for my statement but I think my young self knew that I was missing out on an important connection between mother and child. Growing up we were scared of her. We would hear her pull in from work and no matter what we were doing, whether it was watching television, making Ramen Noodles or talking on the phone, we would stop what we were doing and run. Then we would wait in our room waiting to hear how her mood was. Did she have a good day or bad? Because if was bad we knew the day was going to be bad for us.
We never used to run from her but I remember how one day she came home from work and me and my three siblings ran out to greet her.
Her response, "Why are you motherfuckers embarrassing me?
It was the last day we ran to her.
These memories came back when I had a recent dinner with my cousin. His mother being my mother's sister had so much in common that I never realized it.All this time I thought I was alone in my experience but he shared the same story of him never hearing his mother saying she loved him.But she bought them stuff.
Stuff!
It made me realize that that's how my mother and her siblings were raised.
The way my mother showed love was through material items. By providing a roof over our heads, buying groceries, putting gifts under the tree, to her that was love.
During my time as a youth worker I worked with so many families that did the same thing. That considered buying their child a XBox 360 showed their sense of love.
I think I would have rather went on an empty stomach just to experience a hug of love.
What happens to a child never hugged?
They learn to not hug back and they reach in their wallet to show their love. They feel a emptiness, a non-completed bond. They don't know how to accept hugs because it's so unusual and makes one feel there's a hidden agenda.
Now that I'm older I do realize she gave what she got. What I had to learn was how to break that cycle.
I wished during that time of show and tell instead of telling everyone I hate my mother, that I could say "I don't care what my mother buys for me, I just want her hug."
What happens to a child never hugged?
It depends, some learn how to learn about love themselves, some forget how to fly and some use bitterness as the dirt that fills their empty garden.
No material object can replace the touch of a parent.
Friday, December 3, 2010
Man in a Dress
I've always admired transgendered people. To some when they think of transgender they think of a man dressing like a woman , but it's so much deeper than that. To them it's not about being a man and putting on makeup, and wearing a dress and slipping into a pair of high heels. It's how they identify and how they see themselves living their life.
I used to be one who didn't understand the whole transgender life. Of course I was also in a place where I didn't understand my own sexuality, a place where I was in hiding and passing off as straight.I was also in a zone where there was self-hating feelings from myself of not being able to fully be who I wanted to be based on societies terms. Yet for trans, they not only represented themselves as how they saw themselves but they willingly walked into environments where a target was on their backs.
I think my turn around was from a youth that I was working with when I was employed at an agency that serviced young gay kids. She was only 15 and and when I say she, it's how he identified as he was born a male but preferred to be referred as she. Anyway during the course of interacting with her she would give me small nuggets of perspective on her life. I was fascinated because to me it was a world I never knew that much about. I had friends who were transgender but we rarely hung out as true friends.There was also an added piece in that she was black, which came with its own societal luggage, she was gay and she was trans-gendered. She would share with me how things were for her in her school, in her community and at her church. At home she was fine, well as fine as she could be as her birth family placed her in foster care at the age of nine but when I met her she was in the process of being adopted.
She went through moods, some days happy, some days snapping heads off. When we built a relationship I would learn that it was because of situations she encountered in the outside world.And it was mostly from school as she encountered 'evil looks', passing comments and other craziness. The kicker is that it was not only from the students but also from the teachers. The adult teachers who were supposed to make it a safe environment, were placing their own values on her and making it unsafe, something that many LGBT youth encounter in school as school staff are sometimes part of the problem.
My teaching moment came when, as part of my job I would take the youths on a field trip. This meant I would be out in the public with her her and it would give me a perspective on what she endures. We went to a Red Lobster in the suburbs and the place was filled with the early dinner crowd. Right away the looks came. The looks of questioning, 'is it a she or a he?', the looks of disgust and the looks of shame. Since she was under my charge I, I immediately turned into the mama bear and everyone who looked at her crazy, I did the same thing back to them. But she was indifferent to the looks. She was used to it and it rolled off her back like the rain. I was the sponge soaking up the emotions. Not knowing until later that she probably did the same when she was younger and learned the skill of indifference. She walked to her seat and payed the people no mind. She didn't give her power away.
Crimes against trans-gender people are very high. Higher than incidents of someone who identify as gay. The murder rate and rape cases against transgendered are sad and the statistics are actually higher because when an attack against a transgender happen sometimes they become victimized again by the police themselves so some incidents are not reported. And the sad part is that even the gay community themselves as a whole do not fully embrace the transgender community and like others, will laugh with them in private but will not be seen with them in public.
A 15 year old person taught me to be who I wanted to be and I learned that if she can live her life the way she wanted to, why couldn't I, a man in his forties do the same. It's amazing what children can teach the adults if we let them.
Not everyone who places themselves in a dress is trying to be a Madea.Someone to be comic relief for the masses. And despite what others think they don't do it as drag waiting for you to place a dollar in their belt. What they are doing when they put on that dress is clothing themselves like we all do, nothing less, nothing more.
She reminded me that even though I was a gay man I could hide behind a persona but she couldn't. She placed herself on the front lines and refused to let others dictate how she lived her life. Not even gay or straight people can say the same. We let others pull the strings on what we should be, how we should act and how we should represent ourselves in public.
Here she was 15 and as they say, ' from the mouth of babes' and in her I learned to not only live my life for me but also to fully acknowledge and embrace transgender not as the 'other' but as part of my community.
I used to be one who didn't understand the whole transgender life. Of course I was also in a place where I didn't understand my own sexuality, a place where I was in hiding and passing off as straight.I was also in a zone where there was self-hating feelings from myself of not being able to fully be who I wanted to be based on societies terms. Yet for trans, they not only represented themselves as how they saw themselves but they willingly walked into environments where a target was on their backs.
I think my turn around was from a youth that I was working with when I was employed at an agency that serviced young gay kids. She was only 15 and and when I say she, it's how he identified as he was born a male but preferred to be referred as she. Anyway during the course of interacting with her she would give me small nuggets of perspective on her life. I was fascinated because to me it was a world I never knew that much about. I had friends who were transgender but we rarely hung out as true friends.There was also an added piece in that she was black, which came with its own societal luggage, she was gay and she was trans-gendered. She would share with me how things were for her in her school, in her community and at her church. At home she was fine, well as fine as she could be as her birth family placed her in foster care at the age of nine but when I met her she was in the process of being adopted.
She went through moods, some days happy, some days snapping heads off. When we built a relationship I would learn that it was because of situations she encountered in the outside world.And it was mostly from school as she encountered 'evil looks', passing comments and other craziness. The kicker is that it was not only from the students but also from the teachers. The adult teachers who were supposed to make it a safe environment, were placing their own values on her and making it unsafe, something that many LGBT youth encounter in school as school staff are sometimes part of the problem.
My teaching moment came when, as part of my job I would take the youths on a field trip. This meant I would be out in the public with her her and it would give me a perspective on what she endures. We went to a Red Lobster in the suburbs and the place was filled with the early dinner crowd. Right away the looks came. The looks of questioning, 'is it a she or a he?', the looks of disgust and the looks of shame. Since she was under my charge I, I immediately turned into the mama bear and everyone who looked at her crazy, I did the same thing back to them. But she was indifferent to the looks. She was used to it and it rolled off her back like the rain. I was the sponge soaking up the emotions. Not knowing until later that she probably did the same when she was younger and learned the skill of indifference. She walked to her seat and payed the people no mind. She didn't give her power away.
Crimes against trans-gender people are very high. Higher than incidents of someone who identify as gay. The murder rate and rape cases against transgendered are sad and the statistics are actually higher because when an attack against a transgender happen sometimes they become victimized again by the police themselves so some incidents are not reported. And the sad part is that even the gay community themselves as a whole do not fully embrace the transgender community and like others, will laugh with them in private but will not be seen with them in public.
A 15 year old person taught me to be who I wanted to be and I learned that if she can live her life the way she wanted to, why couldn't I, a man in his forties do the same. It's amazing what children can teach the adults if we let them.
Not everyone who places themselves in a dress is trying to be a Madea.Someone to be comic relief for the masses. And despite what others think they don't do it as drag waiting for you to place a dollar in their belt. What they are doing when they put on that dress is clothing themselves like we all do, nothing less, nothing more.
She reminded me that even though I was a gay man I could hide behind a persona but she couldn't. She placed herself on the front lines and refused to let others dictate how she lived her life. Not even gay or straight people can say the same. We let others pull the strings on what we should be, how we should act and how we should represent ourselves in public.
Here she was 15 and as they say, ' from the mouth of babes' and in her I learned to not only live my life for me but also to fully acknowledge and embrace transgender not as the 'other' but as part of my community.
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