January 1, 2013

Back when I worked in human services, I had an exercise I did with my groups. Take a piece of paper and brightly colored pens and write everything you liked about yourself all over the paper. It was good for these women to see it, have it there in front of them. One woman, though - it was eighteen years ago, but I remember her so clearly. When it came time for me to show off everyone’s papers, hers was almost blank. In one corner, in little tiny letters, in black ink, she had printed “I’m a good friend.” All I could do at first was look at it. Finally, I looked at her and asked if that was really all she liked about herself. She nodded. My heart broke.

I did the only thing I knew to do; I told her it was the saddest thing I had ever seen. I told her we were going to fix this. The rest of the group chimed in. They loved her. They knew there was more to her than that to like. As much as I wanted to let them go, the point of the exercise was to acknowledge what we liked about ourselves. In this instance, the group didn’t matter.

Instead, I turned her paper over and handed her a hot pink marker. This time, though, she wrote I AM A GOOD FRIEND! It filled the page. Those five words took over those 8.5 x 11 inches in hot pink. She started to weep, saying “it’s so beautiful…it’s so beautiful…” Poppets, let me tell you, there wasn’t a dry eye in that room.

On that note, I have a recommendation. For many years, now, I have gone on record as being…less than excited, shall we say…about New Year’s resolutions. Starting a new year that way inherently requires us to make a list of things we don’t like about ourselves. Why would we do that?? Instead, this year, let’s celebrate the things we like about ourselves.

Get your piece of paper. Get your colored markers. Fill your page. Make it big. Make it loud. Make it yours. I promise you, there is something wonderful about you. You are worth hot pink letters pouring off the page. What better way to start a new year than by remembering those things?

When you’re done with it, tuck it away somewhere safe, frame it and hang it on your wall, tape it to your bathroom mirror. Whatever you do, don’t just throw it away. We can revisit them next year and see what we can add in a year.

May your 2013 be even better than your 2012, Poppets. Until next month, take care of you.

December 1, 2012

It’s the holidays, Poppets, and you know I love them! Halloween through New Year’s, I’m giddy. This year, though…this year was looking unusual. According to David’s schedule, we were supposed to be on the road for all of them: October 31^st, November 22^nd, December 25^th, and December 31^st-January 1^st. And not on the road, as in over the river and through the woods, to Grandmother’s house we go. On the road, as in living in a hotel room in some small town in northern Idaho, while he worked every day but Thanksgiving and Christmas.

           

We talked about me getting a ticket to one of my sisters’ homes, and doing Thanksgiving or Christmas with them. I nixed that idea. As much as I love my sisters, “family holiday” means being with David. Wherever we are, so long as we’re together, I’m happy.

           

Then, the day before we were scheduled to leave, he got a call that the site he was to take over had been closed for the winter. He didn’t have to go to work until early January. Um…yay?

I mean, I am the queen of the unusual holiday. I have fed over a dozen people. I have fed two. I have served at soup kitchens. I have been a hostess, and a guest. I have eaten my own recipes, and dishes I had never seen before. I have even turned up the heat and poured daiquiris for misfit toys. Yes, I had managed to embrace the idea of spending Thanksgiving and Christmas in a hotel room in Idaho, with nothing but a mini-fridge, a microwave, and the specific days off.

           

Now, we get the holidays at home, but at what cost? Like most people, when David doesn’t work, he doesn’t get paid. Sure, there is a token salary to keep him on payroll, but it’s really just that – a token salary. With less than a day’s notice, we were facing somewhere between six and eight weeks without a real paycheck. And those weeks include not only the holidays, but his birthday. And my mother’s birthday. And approach our wedding anniversary. And, oh, by the way, we’ve just moved so we have a new apartment to set up, plus slightly higher rent with people who don’t know us, so have no goodwill toward us. And, and, and…

           

And, my dear David looks at me and smiles and says “We get to have the holidays together. In our home. They haven’t laid me off. We can decorate.” He pointed to his computer, and added, “There’s so much free stuff to do here over the next two months!” When I looked into his eyes, he was genuine. This wasn’t an act, meant to make me feel better, or to convince himself it was okay. He was truly embracing – was thankful for – this turn of events.

           

So, I thought about it. We’ve been worse off. Far worse off. We’ve spent the holidays apart. Driving in dangerous snowstorms. Flying in treacherous weather. Broke. Unemployed. Homeless. Truthfully, I was shocked. Shocked at myself. Shocked at how quickly I had forgotten how far we’ve come. How blessed we are. You might even say, if you wanted to be emotional about it, that my Grinch heart grew three sizes that day.

           

Do me a favor this year, Poppets. Remember to find the gifts that may come in unexpected packaging. Don’t stress if it’s not all perfect. Or even at all how you’d planned it. Embrace the bumps that will come this month. Enjoy the imperfections, and even the setbacks. It’s the holidays. Wherever you are. Whatever you’re doing. Whomever you’re with. Decorate, even a little. Find the free stuff. Look at the world with a sparkle in your eye. If this year is better than last year, or turns out to be worse than next, who cares? It’s now. It’s this holiday. It’s now. It’s a blessed time, whatever you celebrate. So stay here. Stay in this moment. And enjoy this holiday season, whatever it brings.

           

Until next month, Poppets, take care of you.

November 2012

It’s November and there is so damn much to write about this year, Poppets. Being me, I’m going to focus on the election, though. In case you hadn’t put it together, I tend to swing liberal. I know; you’re shocked. But I have also never voted strictly party line. Talk to me sometime about how furious I was with the Democrats during the bailout a few years ago, and what they pushed through as part of the economic recovery. Let’s chat about illegal immigration and speaking English in the United States. I will shock you for real, I’d venture. All that being said, I tend to swing liberal and am quite proud of that fact. I am also, in spite of having called him out before, a huge Barack Obama fan. Huge. My fear is that this makes me a minority without our community, and I have to ask why?

The man has been called the worst president for LGBTQ issues ever. He has been ridiculed and insulted for not doing enough. People are saying they would rather not vote than vote for him. All of which is just stupid. Let’s break this down.

First: President Obama has been on the cutting edge of LGBTQ rights and issues, right along with us. And, he has been doing it while trying to ensure the rights of women, children, the unemployed, the elderly, non Christians, and every other American in the world. He is, indeed, our President. He is not, actually, only our President. If you lost sight of this for a little while, think back on Mitt Romney’s 49% comment, where he, in essence, washed his hands of almost of half of the nation. Just because we want him to spend all of his energy and time on us, doesn’t mean he can. He has to care for his entire constituency, not just a certain percentage of it. And he has given us more of his time, energy, advocacy, and nerve than any other president ever.

Second: President Obama has been serving with a Congress one half of whom has come out and said their only goal is to see to it that he is a one-term president. That’s it. That’s all they care about. That’s where their energies are going. This Congress has not cared about jobs, any marginalized group – including, but not limited to, us – the economy, sagging education, spiraling insurance costs, keeping people fed, keeping people clothed, keeping people housed, or a partridge in a pear tree. Their entire focus has been on making sure Barack Obama only serves one term. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to accomplish anything at all when the people who are supposed to be working with you are actively trying to stop you? And yet people are blaming him for not accomplishing enough.

Third: President Obama is worth your vote. Go back and re-read those first two. But even if you disagree with me, Mitt Romney doesn’t deserve your vote. I lived in Massachusetts while he was governor. He was not good to us. Oh, he was lovely, so long as we stayed in the closet where we belong. He even “played fair” by signing into law rights bills that had been passed by the state legislature. But…since when does signing a law that your state and your constituency want earn you cookies? And let’s be clear, not voting at all because you don’t want to vote for Barack Obama is, for us, the same as voting for Mitt Romney. Do not fool yourself into thinking that you remained neutral or took some kind of higher road. You won’t have.

There you have it, Poppets. Get out and vote. Research the candidates. Pay attention. Listen and read beyond the spin. Vote your conscience and your pocketbook. And do not be fooled into thinking that not voting is somehow moral. You’re better than that. I have faith.

The month begins with an election and ends with Thanksgiving. Let’s hope we have something to be thankful for. Until next month, Poppets, take care of you.

 

October 2010

In case you didn’t notice, Poppets, I missed my article last month. I’ve been a professional writer for almost a decade and last month was the first time I’ve been late for a deadline, let alone missed one. One of my sisters – the one married to the asshole, not the one married to the great guy whom I adore – is getting divorced. Now, while this would usually be a source of great celebration, it wouldn’t’ve caused me to miss a deadline. What made me miss my deadline is the fact that she is getting divorced because her (soon to be ex) husband sent her to the hospital, thus forcing her to admit what many of us have known for years: he’s not just an asshole; he’s an abusive asshole. And that caused me to miss my deadline.

October is Domestic Violence Awareness Month and usually that means I talk with you about the fact that domestic violence does indeed occur in our community, and what to do if you are a victim – from admitting it, to getting help. This year, though, given what I just watched my sister go through, I want to talk to you about the important things you can do if someone you love is a victim.

1.      Do not victim blame. The question isn’t “why did you stay?” The question is “what can I do to help?”

2.      Let the victim take the lead. Your friend has managed to stay alive for the entire length of the relationship. Do not underestimate that skill. The time between the victim choosing to leave and the actual split can be the most dangerous of their lives. Encourage your friend to leave the abusive relationship, but don’t assume you know more about their danger than they do.

3.      Once the split has taken place – truly taken place, physically, legally, and logistically – encourage your friend to tell their story. Silence is and has been the abuser’s tool, not the victim’s. Help your friend shatter the silence, and relearn how to stop telling the lies that protect their batterer. On a related note…

4.      Remember this happened. Telling your friend to stay calm, not rock the boat, or my favorite, telling them to protect themselves by protecting their abuser, is indescribably disrespectful. Anger should not blind us, but it can be motivating. And domestic violence victims have plenty of reasons to be angry. Denying these is like denying their experience.

5.      If you can walk the fine line between empowerment and blaming, do so. After all, your friend can make different choices now. Can avoid another abusive relationship. Doesn’t have to let history repeat itself. At the same time, they are not to blame for this relationship. If you can walk this line, great. If you can’t, don’t even try. Just let it be meaningful that they have gotten out of this relationship.

 

Your friend, your loved one – male, female, transgendered, or cisgendered – did nothing to deserve this. They are not the bad guy. The person who abused them – emotionally, verbally, mentally, sexually, and/or physically – is the bad guy. And if you remember it, you can help them remember it.

Poppets, if you or someone you love is in an abusive relationship, email me. You can reach me through The Betty Pages or lifeandtimesofbridget@gmail.com. Call the NW Network in Seattle at 206/568-7777 or Skagit County Domestic Violence and Sexual Assault Services (an officially safe space for LGBTQ peoples) at 888/336-9591. Just reach out to someone. You aren’t as alone, or as hopeless, as you feel.

Until next month, Poppets, take care of you – and each other.

 

 

August 2012

It’s summer, Poppets. Remember when that used to mean freedom? No school, longer days, fewer rules. Every day was an adventure. As adults, summer doesn’t mean that so much. The commute is hotter. Places are more crowded. Tempers are a little shorter. We are five months out from peace on earth, goodwill to men and really can’t be bothered with that in this heat.

But… remember when that used to mean freedom? I vote we say fuck it, Poppets. Not to everything. Not even for long. Just for a day, two at the most.

What was your favorite thing to do as a summer kid? Think about it. And now think about when was the last time you let yourself do it? When was the last time you had the time? Or took the time?

Picnics were a big deal when I was a kid. McDonald’s was actually running a commercial one of my childhood summers, and these people grabbed a huge bag of food and took it to a park. I bought into the advertising dream hook, line and sinker. Thirty-five years later, I still remember the ad campaign – and I still love taking a big bag of food down to the park. I’ve moved beyond McDonald’s, but the concept is the same. David and I – or just me, when I’m alone – will pack a lunch, grab a blanket and a book, and head down by the river. And these days, one can never rule out a nap in the shade after lunch. (Lake Padden Park; Boulevard Park; Fairhaven Park; Cornwall Park; Samish Park…so many to choose from!)

Water parks. Another amazing day. Sun block and flip flops and water wings. I would’ve told you I had outgrown water parks until just a few years ago. I was juggling two books and had deadlines back to back. The stress was beginning to take its toll. A friend of mine asked me to join her and two of her other friends, as the fourth to a local water park. I had an absolute blast. It was fun; it was peaceful. We laughed so hard. The stress melted away. I certainly couldn’t work; there was water everywhere. But when I went back to work the next day, my mind was clearer and I was far more focused. (Birch Bay Waterslides, in Blaine, WA)

I grew up in a town without a zoo, but my grandparents’ town had one. Now, I recognize this was the smallest, saddest little zoo you’re ever going to see, but at the time? At the time, it was nothing short of an African safari. I loved the apes and the big cats and the elephant could make my day. (Woodland Park Zoo, Seattle; Cougar Mountain Zoo, Issaquah)

Another summer draw was the boardwalk. The ocean to one side, fun shops to the other, and an ice cream cone in my hand. Who can resist, even now? (Fairhaven, WA)

The point, Poppets, is to take a day and revisit a happier, more peaceful time. Whatever that means to you. Part of what makes this part of the world so wonderful is that we have access to just about anything we want. If none of these float your boat, or take you back, do your own thing. Find a way to enjoy yourself, to say fuck it. Read a book under a tree, wear a fabulous hat, dance in a rainstorm. Be silly. Be childlike. The world will wait. The stress will still be there when you’re done, I promise. For now, it’s summer and the adventure awaits…

Until next month, Poppets, take care of you.

July 2012

I’ve been thinking about labels a lot recently, Poppets. Labels and who gets to use or approve them. Now, I’m not talking about privileged people using derogatory terms that should only be used by the marginalized people in question, i.e. white people using the n-word, straight people using the f-word, or men calling women girls. No, I’m asking about if someone chooses a label for themselves, can anyone else deny them that truth?


I know people who identify as bi-sexual, but who have only had sex with one gender. To me, this is a no-brainer. We all know who we’re sexually attracted to before we actually get around to the having sex part. Yet, I know many of these same people have gotten grief for identifying as bi. The attitude seems to be that she must be a lesbian if she’s never slept with a man. Or he must be straight if he’s only ever slept with a woman. Or he must be gay because he sleeps with men, as if his attraction to women can be disregarded.


Once you get into non-transitioning gender identity, it gets even more convoluted. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard people say someone isn’t really transgendered because they aren’t transitioning. Or heard someone who identifies as bigendered, or genderqueer, be told they are trying too hard – and that’s if bigendered is even acknowledged as real.


Now, I know what a large part of the problem is. It’s the people who use our labels for convenience. You know who I mean. The beautiful co-eds who are willing to kiss on their girlfriends and giggle that, of course they’re bi, in order to pick up guys in the bar. Or the guy who says something oh so witty like “I’m tri-sexual; I’ll try anything” in order to get the threesome, but really just wants to screw his buddy’s girlfriend. There’s even a group of straight, female romance authors who, after being called out for their depiction and co-opting of gay, male culture, have all miraculously come out as transgendered, rather than admit they’ve overstepped and don’t deserve cookies. There’s been no word yet on how their husbands reacted when they learned they were all married to men. With friends like these…

In all seriousness, though, as a community, and as individuals, we’ve all got wounds and scars. Closeted, open, or out, we all know what it’s like to be rejected at a core level, which makes us wary. Which makes us suspicious. After all, we’ve all got our scars. Where are theirs? These people who come out so lightly? It is easy to assume the person in front of us isn’t who they are claiming to be, when their truth differs from ours.

No, I don’t believe those other writers are transgendered – but I also know many people do not believe my dear, wonderful husband is gay, either. He is, after all, married to me. He and I know our truth, and no one can take it, or change it, just based on their perceptions. But people have, in the past, and may again, reject us and try to minimize us for not “really” being who we are.

So, am I wary? Am I suspicious? You’re damn right I am. And, at the same time, should I ever be face-to-face with one of those writers, I’ll listen to her story, I’ll look into her eyes, and I’ll accept her truth, if it aligns perfectly with mine or not. I think, maybe, that’s the best thing any of us can do for each other anyway.

Until next month, Poppets, take care of you.

June 2012

We are living in dizzying times, Poppets, and not in the good way. More often than not these days, I feel like a pin ball, bouncing faster and faster between bumpers. DADT is repealed; DOMA is still in effect. North Carolina votes for a constitutional amendment banning same-sex marriage; the President comes out in favor of same-sex marriage. The federal government stops defending DOMA; the House of Representatives reaffirms its commitment to the law. The governors of Rhode Island and Illinois come out in favor of same-sex marriage; a Mississippi legislator quotes Leviticus (which, in case you don’t know, calls for gay men to be put to death). And need I say that issues unrelated to marital status are even more dizzying? No, I didn’t think so.

According to a wicked cool graph sent to me by one of my best friends, the core issues of hate crimes, housing, and employment break down as confusingly as same-sex marriage. While 31 states have protections against hate crimes due to sexual orientation, only 14 states protect against those same crimes based on gender identity. Housing protections are afforded to LGB peoples in 21 states, and only 17 to the Ts in our alphabet soup. Finally, only 22 states protect employment based on orientation, and 17 based on identity. (http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/interactive/2012/may/08/gay-rights-united-states)

It’s loud, chaotic, and confusing. Given the noise, it is more important than ever to be diligent, especially in an election year. Know your allies and your enemies.

Each side has its own spin, and if you don’t listen too closely, they might sound pretty good. That doesn’t mean they are. Do your own research; figure out your own priorities. Know what – and who – serves your best interests.

Federal elections take center stage, and that’s okay. But pay close attention to your state elections, as well. What the federal government doesn’t legislate, the states will - and our rights are being addressed at both levels.

Same-sex marriage is an important issue. It’s not the only important issue. Federal elections are important every election year. State elections are just as important this year. Don’t let them bounce you back and forth between bumpers. Don’t be distracted by the lights and the noise.

We’re on the right path, Poppets. Let’s stay there.

Until next month, Poppets, take care of you.