Drunk Dialing

Oh, the stories we could tell about drunk dialing!

You know, when you’re at that buzzed/happily intoxicated state of inebriation where life feels good, and it’s not enough to share the joy you’re feeling with those around you, and so you feel compelled to reach out and call someone.

Now, in my experience, it seems a very particular set of folks that find themselves on the other end of that call (or text, these days)...spouses, partners, and crushes.

Crushing...ahh, now those were the days, when I was young enough “to crush” on someone. LOL, who am I kidding, I still crush on people! In my younger days, though, it was perfectly acceptable to be absolutely silly about crushes. It’s too bad that acceptable levels of silliness seem to be inversely related to age, and the older we get, the less silly we’re supposed to be. No wonder Peter Pan never wanted to grow up!

I think I’ve been too serious lately, so I’m glad that I got drunk dialed last night and was encouraged to participate in a little silliness. That’s the benefit, after all, of being the one who gets drunk dialed—you get to tease, play with, and poke gentle fun at your dialer. :)

Really, though, it’s amazing how far a little silliness and laughter can go. (I’m reminded here of the premise of the movie Patch Adams.) I even took the night’s silliness with me into work today, and it definitely made a big difference. I’ll have to try and remember not to be such a stiff more often—although, I have struggled before with my lack of a sense of humor!

I know it’s in there, somewhere! Come out, come out, wherever you are!

(I think it’s finally feeling like summer to me, and time to let my hair down…so maybe I’ll celebrate by waiting to write my more serious posts until tomorrow, and hit the pool instead! I don’t know how people deal with Seasonal Affective Disorder; I certainly find it hard enough here in DC, and its not nearly as bad here as in other places—one reason I definitely miss living in So. Cal.)

A Good Question worth 700 words

The other night a friend asked me if I had a list of things I wanted to do (before I die). Don’t we all? Well, we should!

To me, having a list like that is about dreaming, hoping, and continually working to better ourselves and how we live our lives. At least, that’s what I hope my list says about me…

What’s on your list? What does is say about you?

In any case, these are some of the things I came up with (in no particular order):

* Drive across the US (okay, so I’ve done this once before, but this time I want to stop more along the way)
* Visit the Grand Canyon
* Extend my knowledge of French and American Sign Language, and learn at least one more language (Spanish, for starters)
* Hang glide (and better yet if I could make this happen at Fort Funston, one of my favorite places in the SF bay area)
* Finish my dissertation so that I can name the people who’ve touched my life in my acknowledgements page, and offer them tangible evidence of the fruit of their labors, cares, and concerns all these years
* Go on a cruise (Alaska, British Isles, Danube, Mediterranean)
* Learn everything I can from my parents while I still can, especially about our family histories and Filipino cultures
* Get healthy, stay healthy
* Vacation in Paris, France (pour utiliser le francais j’ai appris dans la universite)
* Get in touch with friends I’ve lost contact with over the years, and stay in touch with them
* Skydive
* Write a book (aside from the academic publishing I hope to do, I want to try my hand at fiction, or perhaps memoir)
* Find a way to have a relationship with my brothers and their families that will last
* Change people’s lives for the better (hopefully I’ve already done a little of this in my teaching)
* Continue to support and participate in changing our world for the better (including, but not limited to ending all oppressions everywhere)

Surprisingly, as I shared this list (well, a version of it anyway) with my friend the other night, the one item that I felt most poignantly about was finding a way to have a relationship with my brothers and their families. Practically all my interactions with them now are mediated by my parents in one way or another, and I worry that once my parents are gone, so too will my way to relate to the rest of my blood family.

We’ve never really been close, but I don’t think that means we can’t learn to be. I wonder what they make of me…(forever) the youngest (the baby of the family), still in school, single, no immediate prospects of a family of my own…

Oh, and queer

I’ve always felt that it was my queerness that’s kept me from being closer to my brothers and their families…

Well, to some extent that’s true since the one brother who told me it was a phase that I’d grow out of when I came out to him, I’ve disliked ever since (okay, he was never my favorite brother to begin with, but this just sealed the deal!)

In other ways, though, I wonder if I’ve just let internalized homophobia get the better of me all these years…

If I really felt okay as my queer self, maybe I would have explicitly acknowledged and asked for the recognition of the respective partners that I brought “home” to visit as partners and not friends (with the implication that we were more than “just” friends).

Maybe I would be more open about talking about exactly what it is I’ve spent all these years in school studying, teaching, and what my dissertation is about instead of just being evasive when the conversation heads this way.

Maybe I would have shared with my mom just how happy I was sharing my life with respective partners, and conversely how I struggled when those relationships ended.

Maybe I wouldn’t be so scared to share so much that’s important to me in my life.

Maybe there is still time to make things different…

Slanty Eyed Mama

Earlier this month I had the good fortune to attend a performance and conversation with Slanty Eyed Mama at the Meyer Auditorium in the Freer Gallery of Art and Arthur M. Sackler Gallery

Publicity for the event stated:

Trip-hop spoken-word sensation Slanty Eyed Mama comes to DC with a concert of sonic poems, electric violin arias, and satirical politico-comic commentary that deconstructs images of Asians in America. The duo is made up of two Juilliard-trained “good Asian girls gone wild.” Classical violin virtuoso Lyris Hung traded her bow for a guitar pick and rock ‘n’ roll sampler, and award-winning actor-writer Kate Rigg dominates the microphone with her wicked Nuyorasian lyrics.

I later learned that this event was part of a series entitled Articulations 2007: Making Place. The programs in this series were designed to “explore the relationships among people, perceptions, and place.”

The performance was a great balance of artistry and politics; the music rocked and their presence on stage was enrapturing. I left that evening full of energy, and best yet, in the company of a group of friends.

Two things they offered during the course of the post-performance question-and-answer session were that as artists: (1) it is their job to provoke discussion; and (2) it is their responsibility to tell stories. It’s not as if they didn’t already have me hooked with their performance, but the talk-back made me like them that much more.


Something happened in me that night that I don’t quite have the words for…I felt such peace and fulfillment at having been there; I felt as if my subjectivity and positionality as a queer Filipino female-bodied immigrant activist feminist and educator were wholly recognized, touched, and cherished. It’s what I’m searching for through my dissertation, and it’s what I felt that night.

I haven’t stopped talking about Slanty Eyed Mama since…I keep sharing them with others hoping that I’ll find someone just as excited about them as I am, someone who appreciates them for all they are, someone who might just be able to understand me…

(To see other Slanty Eyed Mama fans, check out their myspace page.)

Sadly, I have to say a few queer (white American) people around me have, in response to my urgings that they check out Slanty Eyed Mama (and better yet, work with me to try and bring them to campus next year), questioned why I might want to involve them in this endeavor and failed to see any connections whatsoever. They asked me whether or not Slanty Eyed Mama was a queer duo…they may or may not be, I truly have no idea. But more importantly, I don’t care. Their work spoke to me as a queer API, and that’s enough.

Ironically, though, I am often criticized, or at least looked at askance when I talk about my loyalties to a particular kind of identity politics. I’ve had to answer more times than I could hope to keep track of how I see identity politics as something other than essentialism, which really just strikes me as funny because of how there’s a willingness amongst some academics to understand “identity politics” in such a simplified way when it seems our greater goals are to seek out the complexities and nuances of situations.

I wish I could convey to these people that I feel strongly about the queer groups I am a part of bringing Slanty Eyed Mama to campus, whether or not they themselves are queer, because they speak to such a variety of intersecting dynamics of power, privilege, and oppression—something I think is sorely missing from too many of the queer groups and movements I’ve been a part of.

I’m tired of these people telling me that I should go talk to the Asian Pacific American groups on campus about bringing Slanty Eyed Mama. OF COURSE I’m going to talk to these groups, too, but why can’t we all meet and talk together? Why must we draw lines around whether SEM is sufficiently “queer” to justify co-sponsorship by queer campus organizations? Am I only accepted by these same organizations because I’m “queer enough” despite being API? How could a group like SEM that challenges racism not be understood as queerly fighting white heteronormativity?

Okay, I guess I have a little anger about this whole issue.

And well I should!

Shouldn’t we all when we are continuously told about the importance of “intersectionality” by people who fail to enact actual coalitional politics and connections?

“If you’re not outraged, you’re not paying attention.”

The Art of Questions

It’s certainly not the “art of war,” but there is certainly a degree of strategy and maneuvering when it comes to asking questions.

In my “Introduction to LGBT Studies” course, one of the graded assignments I require of students is to pose a series of discussion questions based on our class texts. On the most practical level, this assignment is useful in gauging whether or not students are doing the readings. But, while they’re not always convinced of such, my main aim in giving this assignment is to emphasize to students that the questions we ask of what we study are just as important (if not more so) than the answers that we try and seek.

Questions can be powerful.

I’ve found myself asking lots of questions lately. Hopefully those I’ve been questioning haven’t felt that I’ve been doing so belligerently, although I wouldn’t be surprised if they did feel a little badgered!

Interestingly, I think I’m beginning to see that the questions I pose to others are both the ones I want posed to myself, and the means through which I try and share myself with others.

I have been asked two very good questions lately, though, which definitely deserve blog posts of their own. More on this soon.

More Anniversaries

I recently posted about my one-year smoke-free anniversary, but that’s hardly been the extent of the anniversaries I’ve been able to be a part of in recent months.

It’s been a busy season for celebrating the anniversaries of friends’ births. I had no idea I knew so many Aries (March 21-April 19) and Tauruses (April 20-May 20).

I don’t know how much I buy into astrology, but it can be interesting…

For example:

Provided by: Astrology.com

Aries & Leo

When Aries and Leo come together in a love affair, the sparks will fly! Both are Fire Signs, passionate and dynamic, with a healthy love of sportsmanship and competition. There is a lot of action in this relationship. Both Signs want to be the boss and problems can arise when their equally-large egos get in the way. These partners have genuine admiration and respect for each other, but they need to learn to take turns commanding and giving orders -- even when they're only choosing a movie at the video store!

This partnership is all about fiery passion, domination and who's on top -- and when! Both Signs can be impatient and proud. Leo likes to be adored and their egos to be stroked, services which easily-bored Aries may not want to provide. Aries may also be bothered by Leo's flirtatious nature -- but this relationship is always exciting. Despite their sometimes noisy differences, Aries often looks to Leo as a guide or counselor. Leo is the Lion and, with Leo, Aries can be the lamb. As in the myth (The Lion and the Lamb), any differences between these two can be overcome. Both Signs are usually respected by others and it's important that this respect exists within the relationship as well.

Aries is ruled by the Planet Mars and Leo is ruled by the Sun. Both are masculine energy archetypes, and together they make a good combination -- they understand each other because they're coming from the same place. The Sun is about the self and Mars is about aggressive energy, so they're highly compatible and can make a powerful team.

Both Aries and Leo are Fire Signs. This tends to be a very heated and passionate relationship. When it's good it's very, very good, but when it's bad it's all about loud arguments and damaged egos. In this partnership there's always competition as to who's in charge. Since a love relationship shouldn't be about power, this can become a problem. Both of these Signs have boundless energy, so both will always be on the go. Although they may disagree often, their differences of opinion don't last long -- Aries is too busy moving on to the next challenge to hold a grudge. Leo needs to remember not to be resentful if their Aries lover doesn't show them enough respect.

Aries is a Cardinal Sign and Leo is a Fixed Sign. Aries gives Leo the assertiveness to charge ahead and take chances, while Leo can help teach Aries to stabilize and follow things through. Aries may sometimes hurt Leo's feelings by saying something hurtful without thinking. Conversely, Aries may be irritated by Leo's bossy nature and tendency to sulk. But they're both loyal and care about each other deeply, and when they can understand there doesn't have to be a boss, their relationship can be exciting bliss.

What's the best aspect of the Aries-Leo relationship? The mutual admiration both Signs share for one another. With Aries as the initiator and Leo as the one who follows through, they both have their integral niche within the partnership. Their mutual energy and passion makes theirs a dynamic relationship

Some might say that astrology is a matter of simply seeing what we want, of conveniently emphasizing some things and de-emphasizing others to suit our own purposes. Maybe so, but is that so different from how we usually go about things?

One thing I do definitely like about horoscopes is that they provide us with a language/vocabulary with which to think and speak about ourselves, or in the example above about ourselves in relationship to others.

[It definitely seems that most of the time people don’t have trouble talking about themselves—in fact my reliable, standby “party trick” (especially when it’s a gathering full of people I’m just meeting for the first time) is to ask others about themselves. Sure enough, doing so masks my shyness and invariably makes a good impression on others. More on me and wanting to make good impressions on others later…]

Even if we don’t feel horoscopes accurately describe our characteristics they do give a point from which we are encouraged to contemplate and to speak about who we are. For example, in the case above, some of the things my Leo self is described as being include:

passionate, dynamic, loyal, caring, impatient, proud, and flirtatious

I wouldn’t disagree with any of these things! In fact, I might just mine my horoscopes for inspiration to finally create my own alphabiography like that in James Howe’s novel Totally Joe (which I’ve posted about before, here and here).

Let's Not Be Shy

Not so secretly wanting this to be said to me. ;)

Tipping Point?

Yet another school year is over, the weather is turning warm, and the long Memorial Day Weekend is upon us signaling yet another change.

Things are happening all around us, whether we notice or not, and whether we want them to or not.

I've said it before, for example, here and here--I'm not usually one to take risks.

But there must be something about this moment (a tipping point, perhaps?) because I'm feeling very emboldened to take a certain action...

*sigh* I probably won't, there are so many reasons not to act. I want to, though.

The question is how much?

A little more than a year ago, I was faced with a similar feeling. Back then I knew that I had to act, despite the consequences, because I knew that I couldn't live without having carried out the action. This time around, I certainly feel a pull to seize what may be an opportunity, but hesitation lingers, too.

I wonder how often people seize the opportunities around them (if they even recognize them as such), and what makes them do so...

A Wedding, A Graduation, and a Great Big Show (Part 2)

While Friday consisted of wedding preparations, the wedding itself took place late Sunday afternoon at the Chesapeake Bay Beach Club where we had the following scene as our backdrop



Although it was quite windy, the sun was shining and the weather was pleasantly warm. What really made the event, though, was the couple's love for one another.

Their vows were touching, reflecting how much each appreciates the other and how well they complement one another. It was truly an honor to be invited to stand up next to my friends to witness and celebrate their union.

What it felt like being there as a queer Asian, well, that's another post entirely...

Opposites attract, but similars stay together

But I always heard opposites attract.
Yeah...But similars stay together.

(146) Rainbow Road Alex Sanchez

Not to say that I'd unwaveringly support the above quotation, but my past does provide supporting evidence...

Just take a look at the ring I was given by my (now ex-) partner


Compared to the one I'd choose for myself



Or, check out the play list for the mixed cds we exchanged (for Valentine's day) right before we split:

The one I got

If I Start to Cry (Edie Carey)
Everyday I Write the Book (Elvis Costello)
These Foolish Things (Etta James)
Long Ride Home (Patty Griffin)
Ice (Sarah McLachlan)
Fruits of My Labor (Lucinda Williams)
Baby, Don't You Break My Heart Slow (Emily Sailers, Vonda Shepard)
Good Morning Heartache (Billie Holiday)
Hurricane (Mindy Smith)
Pavement Cracks (Annie Lennox)
Strange (Tori Amos)
You Had Time (Ani Difranco)
Weep (Namoli Brennet)
Break Up Song (Melissa Ferrick)
Now I Know (Cowboy Junkies)
Both Sides Now (Joni Mitchell)
Wheels Are Taking Me Away (Po' Girl)
Long May You Run (Neil Young)
You're Gonna Make Me Lonesome When You Go (Shawn Colvin)

The one I made

Mercy of the Fallen (Dar Williams)
When You're Good to Mama (Broadway Cast)
Inner Smile (Texas)
Into Your Arms (The Lemonheads)
You're the Inspiration (Chicago)
Somebody (Depeche Mode)
When You're Next to Me (Mitch & Mickey)
We Belong (Pat Benatar)
Let's Fall in Love (Diana Krall)
Indeed I do (Diana Krall)
More Than You Know (Jane Monheit)
Truthfully (Lisa Loeb)
Beautiful (Me'Shell NdegeOcello)
Seasons of Love (Cast of Rent)
Mix Tape (from Avenue Q)
Power of Two (Indigo Girls)
Eight Days a Week (The Beatles)
Love Me or Leave Me (Nina Simone)
I'll Cover You (Cast of Rent)
Lovesong (The Cure)

A Wedding, a Graduation, and a Great Big Show (Part 1)

It's been quite a weekend!

Friday was full of preparation activities for the wedding, consisting of
manicures and pedicures, rehearsal, and rehearsal dinner. If memory serves
me, this was my second time getting a manicure and pedicure at a salon (the
first time was when a woman I was a teaching assistant for treated us
both to a spa day, complete with full massage).

As much as I enjoyed it, I can’t say that I’ll ever make it a habit—the least of the reasons being that I couldn’t imagine regularly spending the money. Frankly, I’d rather use that money to support my current tastes for beer and coffee. Then again, it all fits into my usual modus operandi when it comes to how well I keep myself…

I own a pair of clippers which I use to shave my own head even though I’d probably look more stylish if I went to the barber regularly. I wear glasses instead of contacts. My shoes are over a year old, the soles are visibly worn, but I take the time to shine them whenever I can.

My grooming habits aside…the whole mani/pedi experience was uncomfortable in part because it’s an intimate service to have someone else provide. (I think I’d feel the same way about certain medical care, too.) Compounding this discomfort with intimacy was the obvious racial dynamics. All the employees at this salon were Asian, and all the clients except for me were white. But really, this wasn’t just about race, it was about class/money. It was about the way in which service and money were flowing from whites to people of color, again, except for me.

It’s this position as the exception that is another source of discomfort. But, it’s not that I experience discomfort by being an outsider here—rather, the discomfort lies in feeling as if I’m not aligned with my “fellow” people of color. (I think this is the main source of my discomfort in my program, too, where people of color abound, but with whom I don’t share similar experiences of racialization, and so feel out of alignment.)

I still haven’t figured out a good solution to this predicament. In fact, it’s probably one of the reasons why I’ve tended to be friends with lots of people but not have a big group of friends...

Anniversaries

Unlike many created commercial holidays, I feel anniversaries have meaningful significance.

There are many kinds of anniversaries--some commemorating, some celebrating, some simply marking the passing of time...

An anniversary that I celebrated last week was one year cigarette-free.

Growing up with my dad and brother smoking in the house, I grew to hate cigarette smoke. Sometimes, I'd even be bratty enough to fake a cough when I felt annoyed by their smoking.

I never did tell my family that I smoked. And, sadly, even when my dad stopped smoking because he started having trouble breathing, I kept on smoking.

When I came out in college and started hanging out with other queer youth, I picked up smoking. There was this one coffee shop in Long Beach that we'd frequent in particular...we'd sit outside, nurse our cups of coffee (with cheap refills), smoke incessantly, talk, and just generally keep each other company--proving to ourselves and each other that none of us was alone. Sometimes, even after the coffee shop would close we'd sit on the curb, reluctant to leave one another.

When I started smoking, I started with cloves--to this day their smell brings me back to some of my fondest memories of warm nights in southern California. Then it was bidis, Shermans, my-own-rolled Drums, and then menthols...I never smoked a pack a day, but I was still a smoker.

Sometimes, I still feel like a smoker...still feel the pull of taking a deep drag...

But it's been over a year, now, without so much as a puff, and I couldn't be happier.

(Glad too, that other friends of mine are on the smoke-free journey. Not now, but maybe some other time I'll rant about the ways in which queer communities are disproportionately targeted and disproportionately suffer from nicotine, alcohol, and substance addictions.)

I got this t-shirt at the National Gay and Lesbian Task Force Creating Change conference years ago in Oakland, CA. Hopefully I've stopped in time to not have to miss my lung!

Random Notes

The semester is almost over, a cause for both celebration and saddness...

Random quotations I just found scribbled in my class notes:

"we need hope, but trust fear"

"if you can't fix it you gotta stand it" (Brokeback Mountain)

Good Company

I've said it before, but let me say it again, it's always nice to be in good company.

Don't know how I was found by Chasing the Red Balloon, but still glad to have been so.

Just wanted to acknowledge this, and also add this blog it to my own blogroll. I'm thanksful to the author for sharing her experiences about her hunt for tenure. It certainly helps to demystify the process, and reassuringly attests to the fact that we are not alone.

With you, in struggle.

Wanted: Brotherhood

Butch is a Noun begins with “A Note to the Reader” where Bergman talk about how ze made the explicit and political choice “to structure the book in a way that would be most satisfying for those who felt comfortable with butches and butchness already” (9), as a proud nod to hir butch brothers. But, ze is nice enough to offer a “roadmap” of selections for beginners. When I saw hir at an author event at Lambda Rising in Washington, DC recently, I asked hir to point out a similar roadmap of favorites for butch readers. Ze offered the following: “Cocks,” “White Button-Down Shirts,” “Being an Asshole,” “This Gesture.”

Overall, it’s a fun little collection of short stories. Unlike DH, who shared with me that his strategy to savor the book was to read one (maybe two) selections each night before going to bed, I practically devoured the thing whole, only infrequently stopping to chew. Then again, I do like doing that, binge reading.

In any case, since then, I’ve been sitting on my post about Butch is a Noun, trying to give my mind time to digest it properly. What I realize is that there were pieces that I really LOVED, and others that I was really ambivalent about. I don’t know why I feel so much surprise at this, considering just how many different essays there are, but I do.

Okay, honestly, even though Bergman leaves the meaning of “butch” wide open in so many regards, and clearly takes the time and makes the effort to represent a diversity of dimensions of butchness, I was unsatisfied because there weren’t more butch-on-butch focused pieces (and here, I don’t mean just in terms of sex).

Brotherhood. Tribe.

These words figure prominently throughout Bergman’s writings. Yet, in the end, the book felt more about hir relationships to femmes being hir butch self. I certainly don’t fault hir for this.

It just makes me realize how hungry I am for a book about butch brotherhood. Maybe as a sequel? Or, maybe as a project of my own!


And, as usual, a list of my favorite passages:

Bergman, S. Bear. Butch Is a Noun. San Francisco: Suspect Thoughts Press, 2006.

(11) This is the first thing, the handkerchief. In its way, it is emblematic of the butch heart—it is something you carry with you at all times for the express purpose of giving it away when it is needed.

(17) I want you to feel in your mouth the hesitation, the frustration, the stumbling over gendered pronouns that you must do when speaking about a person whose gender is neither man, in which case masculine pronouns would likely be appropriate, nor woman, in which case feminine ones would probably be.

(22) Embracing the Zen of identity seems less tiring, for sure, less taxing, and certainly more logical, and yet the more I get identified in the world, the more it makes we want to have that moment of determination all for myself; the more it makes me want to offer the people I encounter a much wider understanding of potential identities so that when I am seen on the street I am understood by more and more people as what I am: a butch.

(32) The pack-animal needs to lie down in a warm pile with others of our kind, safer together against predators and weather.

(49) Any penetration is a grace offered to you by the person you’re inside; it is an intimate way of inclusion, a gift. …this is a world in which opening one’s self to someone else is always somewhere on the continuum between a gesture of welcome and an office of trust, and you should be grateful.

(56) What do I think? I think that all of these concerns and fears and angers and loves and all are completely valid and perfectly reasonable and utterly understandable. And I think that if we don’t quit spending so much energy on fighting amongst ourselves, we are going to look up one day soon and find the Department of Homeland Security on our collective doorstep, confiscating our papers and banning us from travel or work for being security risks by virtue of being too confusing, one and all. Then we’ll realize what a privilege it was to engage in border wars, when we had the leisure time for that. Before we ended up spending every scrap of energy on survival. That’s what I think.

(76) I want them to be able to ask, and I want us—if I can imagine myself elder enough to give advice—to make space for the asking to happen.

(76) What is keeping us from making ourselves resources for this next generation? As butches especially, we keep our fire inside—our proudest moment and our shameful ones, our mistakes and our triumphs—and sometimes it burns us instead of fueling us, sometimes we see our mistakes and our shames far too clearly, we imagine ourselves unfit or unworthy to try and teach anyone else anything about anything at all.

(93) I tell him that when he finds someone he wants to please as much as he wants to feel good himself he’s on the right track.

(94) I am hoping I am good enough. I am holding you close, as close as I can, hand cradling your head and breath on your hair, my whole body curved around yours, sheltering you as best I can, trying to remember that I cannot keep you safe, but I can keep you loved.
When it’s good, it’s perfect. When it’s good, I remember why I bother trying. When it’s good, I feel like I can get home from here.

(126) We grow around every injury, never able to heal it—we just encompass it. We take every ache, every hurt, every shame into ourselves and live with it inside our skins. Is it this that becomes our stone?

(127) I would urge you that you are more worthwhile, more deserving than that, too precious to lay yourself in harm’s way. We try to protect each other, in our imperfect ways, and when we can’t, we can at least stand and honor each others’ hearts for their honorable stupidity.

(129) I used to think my butch identity was getting rinsed away in these encounters until I started to see it like a willow tree, responding to being cut back by flourishing.

(138) Because I am not a well person, because I am so conditioned away from showing any kind of fear, sometimes my fear expresses itself as anger instead.

(147) I know that the truth is that I am stopped by my own fear of being seen.

(147-148) Sometimes you ask me what I want, what I need, knowing from the look on my face and the shadow behind my eyes that there is something I want so badly. You ask with your gentlest [end page 147] voice, but I continue to lie, continue to deny you; I don’t know how to do this. I am afraid of being a burden to you, a nuisance and a bother, I am afraid that if I ask anything of you I will become more work than I am worth.

The Sweetest Kiss

So much good stuff going on lately…so many posts to catch up on!

I wanted to start here…

A couple of weeks ago, we invited a prominent scholar in Art History to give a presentation as part of my campus’ spring lecture series in lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender studies.

His presentation focused on the postmodern turn in American art, looking specifically at sexuality and assemblage in relationship to Jasper Johns and Robert Rauschenberg, among others.

One thing that struck me about this event, however, occurred just before he began his presentation. (Not that I didn’t find the presentation itself interesting.)

The faculty member that was introducing our invited speaker had known him more than a decade, the two having crossed paths in California some time ago. In any case, as with any academic presentation introduction, a list of the speaker’s accomplishments and awards was shared with the audience. This introduction, however, had an added layer of poignancy to it because of the history between the two men. Upon the conclusion of the introduction, the speaker acknowledged just how wonderful the introduction he received was, and offered his sincere thanks to his friend. Then, as he moved to assume his position behind the podium to begin his presentation, the two men’s paths crossed once again, and in that brief moment shared a quick kiss.

It was the sweetest kiss I’d seen in a long time.

Before my eyes I saw embodied in their kiss a deep friendship, forged by a long shared history, filled with care, affection, and respect.

Just absolutely touching.