At Least I’ll Know Where We Stand

I have always appreciated blunt people. I used to be one until I realized that I hurt a lot of feelings, downright intimidated folks and pissed others off. So since then, I’ve backed off and become more “PC” and polite. Long ago, I didn’t give a shit. It was their problem if they didn’t like what came out of my mouth because, of course, I was only telling “the truth.” Or at least feeling incredibly entitled to my shitty little opinion, along with my equally shitty attitude. I was sensitive to a fault, but still much preferred that someone just get it out and get it over with rather than pussyfooting around and leave me suspended in a false reality. Example: Before a boyfriend would cheat, like the first day we made the relationship official, I’d say something like, “Don’t bullshit me. If you like or wanna screw someone else, just let me know or dump me. I’d rather be firm in the truth of the situation than for us both to live with a lie between us – that lie being monogamy as a college student. Dude, we’re only 19, so I won’t die with sorrow over you wanting to tongue wrestle with another. I’m not that psycho or unrealistic.” Usually he’d nod and we’d break up about two weeks later. The truth was working for me, albeit lonely.

I even had a soft spot for the brash, borderline ignorant folks whom I encountered. I loved the rude teachers that made us uncomfortably aware that many of us would fail their classes. It didn’t scare me. It gave me a new challenge or a good reason to drop. Other hyper honest bunches (in general) were black folks, the Brits and old folks who had lived long enough not to give a damn anymore. For examples of unconditionally honest folks, look at Chris Rock, Bill Cosby, Melissa Harris Perry, Tim Wise, Simon Cowell (many of the other Brits might not be blatant assholes, but believe that many are just as honest), and Justin Halpern’s dad (he is brilliant). But where I really appreciated honestly, but seldom received it, was in terms of race relations and racial politics. This is one reason why race relations have improved, but not by much. We don’t trust or respect each other enough to be honest and to learn. We also don’t like taking risks for fear of what may be lost (friendship, jobs, connections, lovers, etc.), not thinking of what we can gain like integrity, a real dialogue, true friendship, and a spine.

Although I may not like the spring well it’s coming from, I have always respected the honesty of some of those old whistling Dixie whites from the South. Those old white Southerners aren’t afraid to let the feelings fly, sometime to a fault (think Arizona immigration debate). If they don’t like you, they let you know. It doesn’t matter why they don’t like you, what matters is that they are honest about it. You cannot fight an adversary that you do not know exists. It is HOW we debate and fight that is problematic, not that we do so. To have differences of opinion and exhibit emotion or anger is human and should be wholly acceptable without the PC bullshit or worse, complicit silence or active violence. As my husband once put it, I’d rather you tell me to leave your restaurant because you don’t like my type rather than have you spit in my food on the sly. It’s the covert shit that I detest. That’s what is morally reprehensible. Don’t be dishonest. Tell me how you really feel and let’s go from there and deal with any fallout like respectful, intelligent adults.

As Americans, in the name of civility, we are given permission to be passive aggressive nutjobs that are taught that being polite is best or that political correctness is actually correct. Political correctness has devolved from acknowledging racist attitudes and narrow WASP perspectives to a reason to ice skate across the truth and stab people in the back when they thought it was going to be a pat on the back. However, like my cousin Windy said, many of us don’t talk about real issues anymore because we feel like others either aren’t listening or aren’t open to differences of opinion, so why bother? I agree wholly, but there has to be some balance to this logic. Just because we aren’t talking, doesn’t mean that we aren’t suffering. We are still feeling, experiencing or being affected by what’s going on around us. And what doesn’t come out emotionally – in a healthy way, burrows further inside. And what gets stuck inside eventually implodes or explodes as we’ve seen in the news. So I still think it’s best to be honest and engage openly (when it’s really worth it) and start taking responsibility for your part.

Do parents, especially parents of the hip-hop generation, need a kick in the ass for not helping their children value more than money, sex, being hard, and flossing? Yes. Does the nonsensical, maniacally-sexualized culture we live in promote those second graders in Oakland exchanging oral sex in the classroom closet? Yes. Does Amy Chua have a point and are we too lenient with our kids in this country which points to low expectations and leads to low performance and outcomes? Yes. Do today’s blacks do more to keep each other down than any other time in American history and am I tired of hearing the fucking excuses because your excuses won’t help our kids who are dying in the streets of Chicago almost daily? Yes. Is it horrible that many American youth, regardless of race or class, no longer value life because of the shitty lives, supports, leaders, and opportunities they’ve been given and the hypocrisy they witness in this society? Yes. Does white privilege and classism still exist and is it the other elephant in the room that those who still benefit from it refuse to discuss or publicly acknowledge because it makes them feel uncomfortable or an overwhelming sense of guilt to discuss how America’s history benefits them today while disadvantaging others? Yes. Is that privilege to ignore or outright deny this issue “privilege” at it’s finest? Yes. Is white male rage over the idea of losing ultimate power in American society a contributing factor to all of the mass shootings, Tea Party bullshit and the hyper gun debate? Yes. Are fatphobia, homophobia, transphobia, and xenophobia (think immigration debate) still largely acceptable and promoted in American society? Yes. When we say “people of color,” are we actively excluding whites and making them all feel like oppressors or outsiders because of what has historically been done to marginalized people and aren’t terms like these moving us away from true solidarity? Yes. Are we all complicit in it all? Yes. Is this all complicated? Yes. Am I part of the problem too? Yes. Do I need to speak up more, listen much more, and nod less? Yes. Damn it, be honest for a change!

In the very least, we will know where we all stand with each other which will reveal that some of us are standing apart, alone or like Malcolm X said, not standing at all. Let’s stand for something. Let’s start talking. Let’s be open to engagement. You’re it.

Posted in Education, Hip-Hop and the Urbane, Social Justice | 4 Comments

New York book signing at Bluestockings

Come meet me and COLAGE at our NY book signing so we can chat it up and have some fun!

Date:
Sunday, January 16, 2011 – 7:00pm

Location:
Bluestockings Bookstore, 172 Allen St. near Stanton St., 1 block south of E. Houston & 1st Ave.: F train to Lower East Side-2nd Av.; J, M to Essex St. (at Delancey); B, D to Grand St.; N, R to Prince St. (at Broadway); #6 to Spring St. (at Lafayette)

Contact:
info@bluestockings.com 212.777.6028 begin_of_the_skype_highlighting              212.777.6028      end_of_the_skype_highlighting http://bluestockings.com/events

We hope to see you there!

| 2 Comments

The Safe Stud: Can gender-bending be a safety issue for women?

I was having a conversation with a friend about her baby sister who recently came out as lesbian. Although she was supportive of her sister being lesbian, she was concerned and frustrated that her sister was privately dressing and posturing “like a boy”. We discussed the pervasiveness of this trend amongst young women, especially young African-American women in urban areas. I went into bootleg LGTBQ educator mode and told her about transphobia and how this can be more isolating and vicious than homophobia at times, even within the LGBTQ community. Then I suggested that my friend research the terms “boi” and transgender and follow-up by asking her sister how she identifies. She then shared that her sister used the term “stud” to identify herself. After discussing the gender binary and how fluid and non-conforming it can be in the LGBTQ community, I began to look beyond personal preference/identity and into the possibility of the need to feel safe for young girls in urban communities.

Could dressing like a stud or boi, regardless of sexual orientation or being transgender, possibly be a radical feminist decision to feel safer in a male-dominated, hypersexualized society? Women are highly sexualized and consistently harassed on a daily basis upon leaving their homes. We are often seen as expendable sex objects who exist only for male consumption and are frequently expected to submit to unwanted advances for fear of being perceived as a bitch or snob. Whether we don tight jeans, a professional business suit or a dress, we are equally solicited, fawned and pawed upon like strippers in the club. Being a female, it’s hard to escape the constant advances and most females (once they reach puberty) can attest to this. This is especially the case for teenaged girls who seem exceedingly susceptible. Grown men honk or gawk at the asses of underage girls like the pedophiles they are and many boys seem on hormonal overload with their pitiful attempts to talk to and grab just about every girl they see.

The Young Women’s Action Team in Chicago does community activism around stopping street harassment from boys and men towards girls and women. This is because of the pervasiveness of young girls and women being repeatedly advanced upon and harassed by males when walking down the street or taking public transportation. It usually begins with “Hey baby” or “yo shorty” and escalates to groping, threatening, intimidating, or worse when advances are ignored or dismissed. 86% of the respondents surveyed reported that they had been catcalled (i.e. “Hey cutie” or “Come here!”) and 53% felt like they could not do anything to stop street harassment. I personally have been called foul names from cars filled with guys, had bottles thrown at me for not responding in kind to advances, and have been stalked and fondled on public transportation by adult men old enough to be my father and grandfather, respectively.

So how have young women adapted to or rejected this sick reality? Some carry weapons and rape whistles. Some comply and feign interest or quietly continue to be harassed until they can make an exit. Some girls provide plenty of attitude and sass, despite the names they may be called. And more radically, I suspect that some have gone stud and transformed into bois before our very eyes. Yes, some females are studs as part of their gender and or sexual identity, but I think there is more to the story that is seldom discussed or considered. Women and girls often do not feel safe or respected in public. This worsens at night and in isolated areas or walking through throngs of guys. So can dressing in “masculine” attire create a sense of power, control and intentional obscurity for young girls and women? It’s possible. There is a keen power in not having to worry about anyone following you home or harassing you for your phone number when you look similar to the male perpetrator. Since homophobia and the “no-homo” mantra is so rampant, many young men won’t publicly advance upon someone with their masculine likeness, whether male or female. Young urban girls, both straight and queer, are more frequently wearing masculine clothing and a rugged persona more than ever before. It can be said that this is in direct retaliation to harassment and becoming a stud shouts, “I am powerful. I am not afraid. I will not be a target. I will not play your games. I am your equal. Do not talk to, look at or touch me or you will meet your match.” Now some would say that this is an extreme possibility, but I would argue that extreme circumstances demand extreme measures and that we subconsciously cope and adapt to the environment as a means of our very survival.

My mother, a non-gender conforming lesbian, called me on the shift in my dress code while I was attending undergrad. She made me aware that I no longer dressed “femme” and had gone through a dramatic metamorphosis by cutting off my hair into a short, uncomplicated fro, and wearing tattered, baggy jeans, Timberland or combat boots, fatigues, and huge t-shirts under an array of faded thrift store flannels. My excuse was that it was just who I was (at that moment) and that I was probably influenced by hip-hop culture to be naturally rugged. She saw something more, something more insidious. She reminded me of all of the negative and jarring incidents I’d had with strange men and annoying boys through the years and suggested that I had gone into a sort of hiding, a camouflage of whom I really was, burying the feminine deep inside.

Initially, I rejected her accusation because I was strong and publicly feared no one. Everyone knew this. Tina was no punk. Tina was a fighter in every sense of the word and had taken out many men to accentuate this fact. But after processing my mother’s statements later, I realized that there was some truth to her words which added to the complexity of whom I had become. I was tired of being assaulted and had grown fearful of being me – a sultry, eccentric, risk-taking young diva – because it brought me unwanted attention and didn’t allow boys or men to take me seriously or see me as a human being. That reality saddened me. The problem is that it wasn’t and isn’t just my reality. We have a nation of young girls and women donning the urban burka of saggy pants, bound breasts, and oversized tees and shirts – trying to just fit in without being sexualized as soon as eyes are laid upon us. Some of these girls are willing to sacrifice or cut off their femininity to protect their existence and to preserve their spirits.

So whether a small percentage of girls and women are drastically covering up and shifting the paradigm as a political act or an act of survival isn’t worth arguing over. What I’m trying to cast light on is that although we should have the flexibility to dress and project the images that we wish, we should not feel pressured to go outside of who we are as a response to sexual harassment. We need to address the issue directly. Men and boys must take responsibility for their actions and begin policing themselves and each other. Girls and women must use their voices to say “Stop! This is unacceptable.” Women and men must teach their sons how to appropriately address, relate to, and respect girls and women. Girls and women must learn to respect themselves and demand it from others. If our youth do not know better, we have failed them. We need to begin to see each other as human, not conquests and perps. We can’t see women as merely sex objects, just as we can’t only view men as potential victimizers and purveyors of sexism. There is responsibility and blame all around.

This has to be a collaborative effort and we have to be honest about how we see each other and how we interact with one another. There is an unhealthy relationship that can’t be rectified if we don’t acknowledge that there is a problem. I’m here to say it. “There is a problem.” Our young girls and women have been under attack and the individuals responsible don’t even know that they are playing part of the vicious cycle of disrespect, subjugation and victimization of the very women that they proclaim to want to protect and connect with. It doesn’t end with your daughter or mine. We have to protect all of society’s daughters, whether feminine, old, young, or stud.

P.S. Someone commented on another site that I did not address violence towards female-to-male trans persons. I apologize for the omission, as I was trying to make another point. The trans community is indeed under attack and are often the victims of violence and being a “stud” will not automatically protect one from this sad reality.

Posted in Social Justice, Woman Talk | 1 Comment

Weary Bones and New Ways

New Hair for New Ways

Okay, another year has gone by with a few steps back and several leaps forward for me. Once again, I met Mr. December feeling tired, strained, lethargic, and stressed from the inside out. I had weird pimples, boils, dry hair, a sore throat, back pain, a funky attitude, and a runny nose to accompany how I felt. Was it a bad year? No. It was probably one of the most exciting, productive, and eventful of my life, but even good stress can be stressful and problematic on the body, mind and spirit, if we’re not careful. My spirit has been low lately and I know it has more to do with what I’m not doing than what I’m doing. Let’s recap.

This year, I completed my fourth year of teaching high school (after a big career change) which I continue and love, though it is much more difficult with the budget cuts and high demands. I spent the summer learning Spanish in Central America with my family and it was fantastic and a dream come true. I published my first book, Let’s Get This Straight, with COLAGE. (Yes, I still need you to buy a copy. Then gift another.) I started putting money aside for me FIRST from each check before paying bills. It’s starting to look something like a real savings account. What a concept. (Suze Orman told me this about five years ago and I still didn’t listen.) I cut the perm off of my hair and am all “naptural” for the third time since college. It feels awesome and liberating. I’ve run/walked two 5ks since October. And for the first time in about ten years, I did not gain my usual 10-20 winter pounds. I can proudly say that I’m still at my summer weight due to keeping up some semblance of a workout regimen and gulping down only two measly slices of sweet potato pie this entire holiday season! THAT took more dedication than all of the rest combined. Now those are all of the wonderful things accomplished, but here’s what I didn’t do – I didn’t stop to breathe. Literally. I didn’t listen when my body begged for rest. I kept working. I kept writing. I kept parenting. I kept hustling. I kept it moving. I kept it moving without pause because that’s what mothers do. That’s what worker bees do. That’s what wives do. That’s what high achievers do. That’s what hard-headed people do. That’s what successful, driven people do. Right? Yes, and then they crash and burn. And I did.

By Dec 1st, I felt lifeless, aimless, moody, and selfish for not wanting to do a thing. Nothing. I wanted to sleep. I felt lazy because I had no desire to cook for my family or write a sentence. A sane person would have taken a sick day back in October, but like all insane people, I saved them for when my child got sick and when I had a media obligation for the book – leaving me sick as SOON as my winter break hit on December 17th. Great. That pissed me off because I was wasting good rest time on being sick. I was feeling so down in the dumps that I actually Googled signs of depression (my first step before calling the therapist) and took three on-line depression quizzes and they all said, “No, you’re not depressed, asshole. You’re tired.” Since I like it when computers talk dirty to me, I smiled and then took my ass to sleep.

I slept for 12 hours straight. The past few days, I have gone to bed early, awaken late, taken my vitamins, drank water (which I forgot existed), called family to shoot the breeze, ran to the library and stocked up on book about my latest passion – astronomy/moon cycles & it’s relationship to the feminine, and watched some Netflix movies from my cue. Then, as if on cue, my best friend a.k.a my hubby gave me TWO spa gift certificates and has been cooking consistently or ordering out since our winter break began. He even taught our 8yr old to cook a couple more meals outside of PB&J and cold turkey. I’m going walking today right after my midday nap. Then I’ll cook an ultra light dinner and rest some more. Am I feeling better and more energized? Definitely. Am I cured? Hell nawl. If I’m not careful, I will repeat the same tomfoolery next year. It boils down to self-care. Haven’t we heard this term for years? Women don’t take care of themselves. And we clearly know how because we take care of everyone else. We know all of the reasons we don’t take care of ourselves from excuses and martyrdom to lack of self love and downright stupidity. Regardless of your reason, join me in my de-stressing and self-care crusade. It’s time to unhinge the nails and jump off the cross. Here’s my New Year’s gift to you:

Top 10 Ways to De-Stress and Be Healthy (and not be a dope in 2011)

1. Take Care of Yourself – You don’t have to put yourself first every time, but every fourth time wouldn’t be so bad. Write a list of things you absolutely love to do (or would like to do if you had a chance) – both simple and great. Make sure that it’s not all material because that isn’t true happiness anyway. Once a week (or more if you’re daring), do something on this list, without fail. One of the first things on that list that should occur over and over again better be TIME, young lady. Time to paint your toenails. Time to read. Time to nap. Time to pray and meditate. Time to exercise. Time to dance. Time to sit down in comfort and with remote in hand. Time to make pralines. Time to call a friend. Time to give thanks and take it all in.

2. Say Good-Bye to Stressful People – Drop the negative friends and family members like you drop that butt in your Flirty Girls Fitness class. If you feel drained, stressed or like a negative ball of light after talking to that certain person, stop picking up the phone so much. Adopted stress is a silly, but real source of stress. We allow others to share their stress and make it our stress. One should share flowers, tomatoes, good sex tips, and money, not baggage and eternally bad times. I’m an honest, cold turkey sort of girl, so telling them what the challenge is in the relationship, setting boundaries and agreeing to part if we can’t agree to those boundaries is my way. It’s turned out both bad and good, so beware with this method. If you’re an Elvis, “don’t be cruel” sort of gal, then reframe negative conversations and be the positive charge. That every fifth Sunday when you do answer the call, text or email, don’t be the “uh huh, uh huh” person who only listens to the drama. Speak. Say what you want them to know and string in positive messages and then get the hell out of the conversation before it turns stressful. “Girl, it’s been great talking to you, bye!”

3. Don’t Struggle for the Struggle – Many of us bleeding hearts, non-profiteer types, love the idea of healing the world. We fight, shout and kick hard. We don’t admit it, but we love the martyrdom of the struggle. We think it’s kickass. We know we’re fierce and doing the real work. We work passionately for those issues we care about and we advocate fearlessly on behalf of the voiceless and powerless. However, we render ourselves powerless when we allow the perpetual struggle to wash over our lives. You can be part of the struggle without the constant mental and physical struggle you put yourself through. You need boundaries. You need safe, comforting, me-time space or you will burn out and have nothing left to give to those you are so passionate about. My father in law, Baba Koleoso, told me that you will end up bitter because you will realize that even with your life’s work and tireless commitment, the struggle will still be there. His life is a testament to that statement. Take time to refresh, recharge and live the fun life you’re also meant to have. Fight the struggle without becoming the struggle.

4. Keep it Simple, Sista – We have become much too complicated. Too cerebral. Too highfalutin. Bring it down a zillion watts and chill the hell out. One of the nicest days I had in this dizzying fall/winter season was taking a five mile walk in the drizzling snow along the lake. It was quiet and peaceful. It was walking meditation and too beautiful an experience for me to be cold. Don’t worry about the small stuff or the stuff that didn’t get done today. The work will always be there. Don’t put on any make-up and barely comb your hair. Just be you in your simple splendor. If you throw a party, let it be about the people, not the pomp. If you’re thinking of an outing with your child, go cheap and meaningful – like a walk downtown looking at architecture or winter stargazing or sketching pictures of each other for that barren hallway of yours. Even if hysterically ugly, it’ll make you smile every time you glance at it.

5. Stop When You Need To – We do not listen to ourselves – to our minds, our bodies, nor our spirits. We know when to stop, but we keep going. For what? Tell me. Wait, I don’t want to hear your excuses. I have my own. Life is not a race. Life is not meant to be torture. And don’t get too big-headed. Life will go on without you. (No, not as good, but it will.) So stop and just be. There’s something powerful and restorative in just being, just taking a step away from everything. I don’t care if you stop once each morning or ten minutes during lunch or an hour on the weekends, but you need to stop and rest. Stop and breathe. Stop and smile. We burn out because we take too long to realize that we are on fire. Start listening to yourself or that lovely person in your life who reminds you to be kind to YOU. It is fine to be passionate and goal-oriented, but the smart person knows that it’s not about how fast it’s done, but that it’s done well. There is an Ashanti proverb that reads, “The moon moves slowly, but it crosses the town.” We are the moon, going through life’s cycles, complete and willing to shine our light, but within our time. Know when to stop, keep it simple, release the struggle, and take care of yourself. We need the moon like the universe needs you – give it to them, but on your own terms and in your own time. Remain brilliant, but slow it down. Love and caress your spirit like you love the world. Rest and replenish so that you can carry on with your critically important work. This post is dedicated to a lovely word: BALANCE. We can do it, just like we do everything else. Ashe!

And I thought there would be ten things, but I’m learning when to stop, so we will leave it at five and the world will go on and I will go take my afternoon nap and you will do something just as self-nurturing and wonderful for yourself. Happy Holidays!

Posted in Self-Care, Woman Talk | 3 Comments

WGN-TV Interview with Allison Payne

I enjoyed doing an author talk with WGN-TV’s Midday News anchor, Allison Payne. Although the interview was a 3-4 minute segment, it was a positive experience and I am happy that mainstream media outlets want to know more about our families in a non-sensationalized way. It’s a step forward. Thanks, Allison! You are a class act. Thank you, Andie East, for being an amazing publicist!

Posted in Media | Leave a comment

NPR Interview on WBEZ’s 848

I had the pleasure of interviewing with Alison Cuddy of WBEZ’s 848 about Let’s Get This Straight. Listen in and share your thoughts.

Posted in Media | Leave a comment

Gay parents have more gay kids than heterosexual parents? Hmmm…

Here’s yet another report that is trying to “prove” that we, the kids with LGBTQ parents, will more likely be gay. I see how this could be logical because all of those straight parents were lucky enough to have all those gay kids. Those heterosexual parents surely influenced their kid’s sexuality and “made” them gay. Yes, it sounds stupid because it is.

First, if we are gay, who cares? I’d say queer kids with queer parents may definitely have an easier time accepting their own sexuality. That makes sense. (Although with all of the societal vitriol and negative attacks, it may be hard for them as well). The true question is why are people so preoccupied with our sexual identity anyway? Being 2nd Gen (an LGBTQ person who also has an LGBTQ parent) is only a problem for those who believe that being homosexual or gender non-conforming is somehow bad, undesirable, or immoral. There is nothing wrong with being homosexual or transgender, so what’s the big deal if a person with queer parents grows up to be queer? When society gets out of the mind frame of thinking that being queer is wrong, the “Are you gay too?” question will lose its thunder, and we will all feel less pressure to defend our sexuality, whether queer or heterosexual. It’s a stupid debate and I refuse to give it any real power. Arguing with bigots is a lose-lose situation. 1) You can’t change a bigot’s mind. 2) You will lose brain cells trying to do so. So don’t.

Posted in Social Justice | Leave a comment

Out of the Closet on National Coming Out Day

I am not afraid to share that I lived in the projects of Chicago and ate government cheese.

I am not afraid to share that my left leg is about two inches longer than the right because I fell out of the third story window at age five.

I am not afraid to share that I snap my neck frantically to hip-hop when I’m deadlocked in traffic to beat the damaging effects of road rage.

But for the first half of my life, I was afraid to share that my mother is a lesbian.

As a youngster, I remember being terrified of friends coming over for fear that they would see the photo montage of women kissing or the rainbow-colored candles sitting innocently on the living room table. I recall my grandmother telling me that I shouldn’t live with my mother because she had “nasty ways.” I got sick to my stomach at church when the pastor vehemently condemned homosexuality, inadvertently sentencing my mother straight to hell. What happened to love thy neighbor and judge not or ye shall be judged? As a teenager, I remember hiding inside of my mother’s tent at the beach (in ninety-degree weather), all because I was too ashamed to decline my mother’s invite to the annual Pride Parade. I painfully swallowed the terms “that’s gay,” “dyke,” “faggot,” “sissy,” and “bulldagger,” all through my adolescence. These hateful words came from friends, family members, teachers, pastors, and at times, from my own betraying lips. I never contested this heterosexism because society told me that homosexuality was wrong, and before long, I began to believe it. Many Black folks have never been open to homosexuality publicly, so why should I be any different?

The National Center for Lesbian Rights reports that there are over 3 million children in America with lesbian or gay parents. In summer 2000, five Black researchers, nine Black Pride organizations and the National Gay and Lesbian Taskforce conducted a Black Pride Survey which reported that at least 40% of black lesbians/bi women and 15% of black gay/bi men and black transgendered people have children. Me and thousands of other black children grew up feeling fearful, ashamed, confused, and angry; angry at the world for demonizing our parents, angry at our parents for being “gay” in the first place, and angry at ourselves for not being able to accept that choice (at least not openly). I was not able to accept my mother’s sexuality until I went to college, away from family and friends. It all came to a head when an ex-boyfriend commented that he wished he could put all gays on a hot air balloon and blow it up. Before I realized it, I had back-handed him so hard that even Bishop Magic Don Juan would have been proud. I slapped him for all of the times I bit my lip in class when the teacher allowed students to openly pick on the gay kid. I slapped him for every person that told me that that my mother was destined to fire and brimstone. I slapped him for all of the gay jokes that permeate the Black community. I slapped him for all of the brutality and hate crimes that gays have faced. While in college, I learned to face and accept myself – my poverty, my thin frame, my “ghetto” ways, my virginity, and my hypersensitivity. As I became more comfortable with whom I was on the inside, I learned to embrace myself and my own experiences. I think that accepting my mother had more to do with me accepting myself because I couldn’t do one without the other.

Now I realize that my refusal to accept my mother’s homosexuality had little to do with me thinking that it was wrong or harmful to my development. I denied her the right to be lesbian because of my own needs. I feared that her stepping out of the closet meant that I was exposed too. I was a fragile kid, seeking acceptance from my peers and family and I thought that this new curve ball would jeopardize that. However, this silent stance was painful and lonely. The silence was killing me. Something had to give. I needed to choose between love and fear. While I think that fear is a natural emotion, it became unhealthy because I allowed it to dictate my actions. I believe that my fear enabled me to accept the truth, to understand my life experiences, and to embrace my mother. My faith in God allowed me to let love be the determining factor in my beliefs and actions.

I began to accept my mother, not as a lesbian, but as a woman whom I loved very much. And with love, there are obligations. You do not hurt the ones you love and you’re supposed to advocate for them when it’s necessary. I learned to challenge society’s ignorance and support my mother in being the beautiful, intelligent, woman-loving, caring, quiet, construction-working lesbian that she is. In loving my mother, I came to love and know myself even more. Now I know which values are important – love, faith, honesty, compassion and a commitment to all things wonderful and true.

My mother is a beautiful woman. She is my friend and mentor. She has taught me to be strong and self-empowered. Most importantly, she has given me the courage to use my voice to advocate for harmony, individuality and human rights. Finally, I am not afraid to share that my mother is a fabulous lesbian. She is out of the closet and I am right beside her.

Posted in Relationships | Leave a comment

When Tragedy Strikes our Families – Frankie Valencia, Jr.

Unfortunately, horrific tragedies hit LGBTQ families as well. We are not exempt from heinous attacks, poverty, urban malaise, or gang violence. At a Halloween party in 2009, DePaul University honors student and senior, Frankie Valencia, Jr., was murdered by local gang members. No, he was not a gang member. He was a young, committed humanitarian trying to better the world.

It was yet another senseless murder (of the hundreds that kill our Latino and African-American men each year) in the city of Chicago. Why do we continue to prey upon one another? When will we learn that we are sometimes the problem that we complain about? Now, instead of being the next brilliant mind that effects positive change in society, Frankie Valencia, Jr. will be remembered as the beautiful son with all of the unrealized potential, while he leaves behind his two moms, his father, and brother (his biological parents were divorced when he was younger and he was raised in the home by Joy and Siu, his lesbian parents and co-parented by his biological father). It is wonderful to see that all of the parents raised him and that they didn’t succumb to the kind of post- heterosexual divorce drama that sometimes disconnects and fragments the children in LGBT homes. It is important that I clarify who his whole family is because oftentimes, the media glosses over who our families are and it is situations like this that can add insult to injury. Even if a parent is not a biological parent, it does not mean that they are not parents. Parents are the people who have raised you and loved you. Sometimes, it has very little to do with eggs and sperm. That is not what makes a family. It’s more beautiful, textured and committed than that. Frankie was lucky enough to have three parents who loved and supported him.

Hopefully, the mainstream media will acknowledge not only the horror of the tragedy, but the reality of our families. LGBT families are dynamic and complex and we will not remain invisible. We are here and as illustrated in this tragic story, we experience the same joys and pains as other families. Joy McCormack said her family plans to start an organization called Chicago’s Citizens for Change to help the city fight gangs by introducing a curriculum in Chicago Public Schools that includes classes on nonviolence, humanity and social service. Their new organization will also create a Web site where parents can find information on afterschool programs, counseling and support. McCormack was quoted as saying “The police alone can’t save our children — we have to. We need to stand up and take action.” I couldn’t agree with her more.

Rest in peace, Frankie Valencia, Jr. and our deepest condolences to his parents, Siu Moy, Joy McCormack, and Francisco Valencia, Sr.

Note: On September 29, 2010, one of the suspects (who provided the gun for the murder) was convicted of first degree murder. The perpetrator is awaiting trial. May justice be fully served.

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What’s New: Let’s Get This Straight hits the shelves and COLAGE’s 20th Anniversary Celebration hits D.C.!

I am so excited to share that Let’s Get This Straight hits the bookstores today! Please order a copy and tell your local bookstores to order them as well. While you’re at it, come out and enjoy a fabulous weekend with me in Washington, D.C. It’s for a great cause!

I will be partying with COLAGE for their 20th Anniversary Celebration this weekend on 10.10.10. COLAGE is a national movement of children, youth, and adults with one or more lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender and/or queer (LGBTQ) parent/s. This fabulous organization builds community and works towards social justice through youth empowerment, leadership development, education, and advocacy. Wilson Cruz will be the Celebrity MC and the honorees are Danielle and Susan Silber, Ryan LaLonde, Christopher Moody and yours truly.

I absolutely LOVE COLAGE and without Meredith Fenton and COLAGE, this book would not be in the universe. They encouraged, pushed, supported, shoved, and loved me enough to get this book published. They provided dozens of interviewees, sage advice, editorial and writing support, submissions from youth around the nation, and even helped me to secure a publisher. This 20th anniversary celebration is a celebration of us – a celebration of speaking up for ourselves, a celebration of our families and a celebration of our activism to make not only the LGBTQ community more inclusive, but to make the world a more enlightened, accepting, and humane place. Congratulations to you, COLAGE, for giving people like me a place to call home, a place to belong and be unequivocally who we are. For this, we must take a moment to celebrate. Please come out and join us!

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