I have lost.
I have lost my right to love
To hold hands in the street
Without glares
To give a good bye kiss
Without jeers
I have lost family
I have lost friends
I have lost respect
I have lost jobs
I have lost my home
I have lost more than you can ever replace

I am angry
When I hear you blame me
For the tragedies of this world
When you call me a heathen and a sinner
And aren’t any different from me
I am angry at you for hating me
I am angry at you for denying me
I am angry at you for beating me
I am angry at you for raping me
I am angry at you for robbing me of my humanness

I am rageful
I have been kicked
Spit on
Stripped of rights
Stripped of freedom

Every moment I am bombarded with my perceived “difference”

Every little trauma
The stares
The assumptions
The slurs
Every big trauma
The denial of love
The rejection of others
The physical, mental, emotional abuse

But I refuse to continue this cycle
Engage in revenge to begin the loss again
To grow angry again
To be rageful again
I do not accept what you have made me
What you want me to be
I will not become you.

———————————————————————————————-

I have been working on my post-graduate certificate in LGBTQ studies for my field. Recently we had a class on trauma and the LGBTQ community. We discussed the micro traumas that occur to people of our community every day (and of many minority communities). When someone asks about your “boyfriend” or “girlfriend”, when someone stares at you, when someone uses “gay” or “faggot” or “dyke”, etc. And the larger communal trauma - when you see that another state has turned down gay marriage, when you see the hateful arguments against gays in the military, when you see that our rights are pushed off again to another day. Every hate mongering, spittle spewing, red faced hyper-religious fiend causes you a little bit of hurt. And we spend so much of our energy coping with these little cuts and bruises. Imagine if you had to spend that much of your day tending to physical wounds - you wouldn’t have much time for other stuff, would you? And so we spend an unnecessary amount of time coping instead of evolving. Is there an answer? No clean one outside of full societal acceptance. Perhaps recognizing the toll that the world can take on you, on our community, and do what is necessary to heal yourself and others. Supporting each other, caring for each other. We can, and will, break the painful cycles of trauma.

-butch

I apologize for my impromptu vaca, some crazy things have been going on.  I have missed you all!

~Beauty

Cunt! Twat! Vaggy! Poonani! Cooter! Breakfast of Champions! Crotch Waffle! Lawrence of the Labia! Bearded Clam! Cavern of Wonders! Pink Taco!

brittanyrey:

asparagus:

(via tae-young)

What do you mean that’s enough vagina?

hahahhahahah.

lawlinggg.

 It is never enough vagina.

EVER.

The holidays go hand and hand with family. Stories, movies, television - they are all jammed packed this time of year with stories of happy families learning a valuable lesson during the holiday season. But it reminds me that many of my friends who are LGBTQ are unable to enjoy the holiday season with their family. Their families have rejected them - booted them out, and told them never to come home. For some, family is not a safe place to be. Or it is not a place where they can be who they really are - unless they are wearing a lie, they can’t go home.

But there is an upside to this. The resiliency of those who are in the LGBTQ community. Many of us create our own families. Friends, mentors, significant others, and partners. We knit together families of our own design - those who love us, support us, and most importantly accept and may actually understand us. People who have been through similar trials. So we still spend our holidays surrounded by loved ones - with laughter, joy, and a mutual sense of caring.

The holidays are about family. But not always the biological one.