I’m still here

Philly Pride flag

I started thinking that I didn’t have anything to say.

Or at least that no one needed to hear what I had to say.

I heard the whispers of old ghosts telling me that my story isn’t relevant.

So, I was quiet. I worked. I listened. I planted flowers and a cherry tomato plant and rescued a jalapeño seedling that the cat had mostly eaten except for the stalk.

I read Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. I read the the new Ivan Coyote book and lots of poetry, especially poems penned by young Black men.

We’re flying a Philly pride flag for pride this year. It’s the first time that we’ve flown a big rainbow flag at our house. Every time I see those bright colors rippling against the blue of the sky, I swell up a little inside.   

I’ve remembered that those of us who wear the label “other” have a duty to speak our truth.

I don’t have to shout

But I have to say

Hey

I’m here

I’m still here

And this is how it is for me

* * *

Happy Pride!

Pride and reading diverse books

On Saturday morning, W and I were up early packing her SUV and getting ready to head to our local Pride festival.

“Why do we do this?” I asked as I rubbed sleep from my eyes and loaded another heavy object into the car.

It rained during set up but then the sun came out. We all started looking for rainbows.

My best friend came and spent the day with me. And there we sat on a beautiful Saturday afternoon watching waves of people clad in whatever makes them happy–high heels, rainbow flags worn as capes, trans colors, combat boots, preferred pronoun stickers. I started remembering why we do this year after year.

One miscue: I wore my “I Love My Awesome Wife” tee. “Is this your wife?” everyone asked, looking at my friend. Everything does come full circle. When I came out, everyone thought my friend and I were a couple because we were so close. (In case you were wondering, W, my awesome wife, was manning a different table.)

I was promoting a local book group that I head, as well as my big butch memoir, Leaving Normal: Adventures in Gender. We handed out lists of recommended LGBT books and rainbow bookmarks with affirming statements like “Believe in Yourself” and “Be Unique.” We asked people to share a book that inspired them or made them feel not so alone by writing the title on faux library cards.

We talked about books. I can’t tell you how happy I was to hear young people chat excitedly about their favorite reads.

Here are some of my memorable moments from the day:

A 13-year girl so excited about books that she jumped up and down. She told me her favorite book is Rainbow Rowell’s Carry On. “About the worst chosen one ever and how he finds out he’s gay,” she wrote on her library card. I don’t know about you, but that’s a book I want to read. When I told her I was a writer, she jumped up and down some more. “Me, too!” she said.

A woman who recommended the book Annie on My Mind by Nancy Gardner. She told me that she discovered the book when she was a kid at her local library. She checked it out and took it home. When her mother found it, she burned it in the backyard. She couldn’t go back to the library because she was unable to return the book. My heart broke for that little girl.

Everyone who picked a “You Are Amazing” bookmark and said, yes, I am amazing and will take this one.

The fact that one of our son’s friend who identifies as trans was forbidden by his parents to go to the Pride festival with us. I saw so many parents walking around with their kids. But it’s important to remember all of the kids who have parents who are not accepting or supportive.

Here are the book recommendations we received from young and old, in no particular order:

1. Carry on by Rainbow Rowell
2. Into the Wild by Jon Krakauer — I’m not the only one who wants to live in a bus in the wilderness.
3. When Women Were Warriors by Catherine M. Wilson — Gay ladies who are bad ass warriors.
4. Kase-san and … by Canno — Manga series with two cute lesbians.
5. My Most Excellent Year by Steve Kluger — When I was trying to find myself in 8th and 9th grade.
6. Siddhartha by Herman Hesse
7. Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe by Benjamin Saenz
8. The Cat Ate My Gymsuit by Paula Danziger
9. She’s Not There by Jennifer Finney Boylan
10. Life’s Golden Ticket by Brendon Burchard
11. The Art of Racing in the Rain by Garth Stein
12. Bad Feminist by Roxanne Gay
13. Shark School by Davy Ocean
14. Three Guineas by Virginia Woolf
15. The Plucker and The Child Thief by Brom
16. Annie on My Mind by Nancy Gardner
17. Steven Universe comic books by Jeremy Sorese
18. More Happy Than Not by Adam Silvera
19. The Places That Scare You by Pema Chodron
20. Rad American Women A-Z by Kate Schatz
21. Echo of the Boom by Maxwell Neely-Cohen
22. And Tango Makes Three by Justin Richardson
23. The Women Who Raised Me by Victoria Rowell
24. Honor Girl by Maggie Thrash
25. Kashimashi: Girl Meets Girl by Satoru Akahori
26. Tale of Despereaux by Kate DiCamilo
27. The Dish Ran Away with the Spoon by Susan Stevens Crummel
28. The Longest Mile by Christine Meyer

What about you? What book made you feel not so alone?

Happy trails

W and I are going away for the weekend.

It’s our anniversary month. We celebrate the entire month of October because we have an October 1st commitment ceremony to celebrate and an October 11th wedding ceremony to celebrate. We figure we are owed that much for not being able to legally wed when we wanted to.

Early tomorrow morning, we are headed to Philadelphia, which is less than an hour away. It’s not a big trip or a far trip or a long trip, but still being away from home overnight is usually enough to make me feel anxious and out of sorts.

Plus, we are taking a train into the city and then busing and Ubering from there to wherever we need to go.

Just added to my T-shirt collection.

I like to pack a big duffle bag for a weekend away. I like options. I like my Wonder Woman chucks and my Dr. Martens. I like a T-shirt worn over a thermal shirt for walking around on a fall day. I’ll need a sweatshirt for the morning. I hate being cold. Plus, I’ll need a change of clothes for dinner. A crisp, button-down dress shirt to wear over a clean tee. At night, I can’t sleep without my fleece pajama bottoms and a fresh T-shirt. On Sunday, we’ll be attending a pride event. Do I want to go with traditional rainbow or something more cheeky? My new Hooters T-shirt or the I Love My Awesome Wife tee that makes W smile? Gosh, I need so many T-shirts. We haven’t even gotten to books–I always bring at least two–or writing paraphernalia. And ball caps. Penn State for Saturday, Steelers for Sunday and Phillies for just in case.

 

But that’s too much stuff to take as we traipse across the city. Saturday morning, I will wear the versatile combo of jeans and Dr. Martens (also known as standard butch uniform). I will bring a small messenger bag. I will pack lightly: underwear, socks and a T-shirt for Sunday; a toothbrush, one book, one small Moleskine notebook, one pen that fits in my pocket. I will sleep in my boxers.

I will be glad for the small load, the light burden as we go places and see things and remember what it felt like to fall in love all those years ago.

* * *

What about you? Are you a light packer or not? And yes, I am aware of how that sounds. What can you not live without, even for one night?  

 

Pride and butches and free stuff

Get out your rainbow T-shirts and your labrys necklaces. Your Birkenstocks, too. You know the drill. It’s June, which means Pride is here in all of its ROYGBIV glory.

And what’s Pride without your butches. It’s like french fries without catsup (I did, too, spell it that way), Melissa Etheridge without water — somebody bring her some, a lesbian couple without a cat or a Subaru.

What does being butch mean to you?

Leave your best answer in the comment section. I’ll mail out prizes for the top 3 answers. Y’all like free stuff, don’tcha?

You had me at socks.

You can win a copy of my book or a pair of these cool socks. Are you butch enough to wear them?

 

You don’t have to be a butch to play or to win. But if you are a butch, then you are always winning. Because you look good in a baseball cap.

Here’s a sample of what being butch means to me:

• Always carrying the heavy stuff for her, even though she is more than capable of carrying it herself.
• Listening to anything I want to in the car with the window down. Even Barry Manilow. That’s “Weekend in New England,” motherfucker.
• Rocking a necktie when every other woman in the room is wearing a skirt or a dress.
• Owning regular T-shirts and dress T-shirts, regular sneakers and dress sneakers, regular flannel and dress flannel.

Tag, you’re it.