Blog Archives

DADDY!

Father’s day.

Two words that can cause any number of thoughts and feelings to go through the minds of people with fathers, and fathers/father figures, the feelings flashing through my own mind are feelings of apathy and anger with a greenish tint of envy and an undertone of hurt.

My father is one of the many fathers who are undeserving of any day of recognition so in the process of building my own family I’ve found a few people who I will be honoring today.  I’ll be thanking people who came into my life and filled the “father” roles when my own father was unable or unwilling to do so.

If you’ve found a father figure, no matter what other roles they may fill, don’t forget them today; give them a call and tell them how much they mean to you.  I know I will.

Yours in Queerness,
Duos Spiritus

Advertisements

So Today It’s Mother’s day

Mother’s day is a tough day for a lot of people for a lot of reasons; people who have lost their mothers to death or intolerance, mothers’ who have lost their children for the same reasons or people who wish to be mothers but are forbidden by law to adopt.  My heart goes out to all those people but today I am counting my blessings; I have a wonderful mother who loves and supports me in all I do, what more could I want?  I have a mother who fights for human rights on all fronts, what more could I ask for?

So in this post I’d like to say; Thank you mom, I love you.

 

Yours in Queerness,
Duo Spiritus

Hir; A Poem

This is a beautifully done piece of spoken word, I recommend it.

 

Yours in Queerness,
Duo Spiritus

Where’s The Restroom?

Earlier this month I was blessed with the chance to attend a leadership and activist training as well as participate in a day of advocacy at a state level, this was my second year attending this summit and, to be honest, one of my main reasons for returning had nothing to do with the change I could make.  I wanted to go so I could spend a weekend surrounded by people who asked for my P.G.P. (Preferred Gender Pronoun), in a place where ALL the bathrooms were gender neutral and where I knew I’d be accepted as I am.  When I left I realized just how important having a gender neutral bathroom was, and how often I risked my own health to avoid choosing one or the other, I realized that if I know I’ll be able to make it to a gender neutral bathroom I’ll simply hold it even if I get an infection because of it.  I realized how uncomfortable I always am when I have to choose based on biology and I realized that if I feel this way then I can’t be alone.

If someone as self assured as myself is afraid to choose a bathroom based on comfort then how can we expect others to do the same?  If someone as confident in their gender as I feels diminished and trapped by the bathroom choice then how must it make those just coming out to themselves feel? And what can we do about it?

I can’t answer about the feelings of others, but I can tell you what you can do; If you find a place with gender neutral bathrooms you can let them know how much it means to people, if you find a business that has gender neutral bathrooms you should choose them over their competitors and if you have a place you feel safe enough suggesting gender neutral bathrooms then you should do it.

Yours in Queerness,
Duo Spiritus

Sugar and Spice and Everything Nice…

I was talking with some women a few days ago about the expectations of their gender that bothered them most, the unanimous answer seemed to be having their anger belittled. “It’s your time of the month isn’t it?” “Calm down, it’s just PMS.” And other such jokes are the most overt ways that women and girls are told that it’s not ACCEPTABLE for them to be angry, that their anger or annoyance isn’t as IMPORTANT as someone else’s.  It gets subtler and more damaging too; if a little boy hits someone out of anger in play I’ve seen them scolded for violence and told to find better ways to deal with anger, but if a little girl does the same thing she is informed that “it isn’t ladylike to hit” and that she “shouldn’t get so upset about thing.” What is the message there? To me the message is simply that anger is for boys.

The double standard is perpetuated through nursery rhymes such as “ What are little boys made of? Snips and snails, and puppy dogs tails. That’s what little boys are made of ! What are little girls made of? Sugar and spice and all things nice. That’s what little girls are made of!” and the toys given to children, when older kids are roughhousing and misbehaving girls are called “trouble makers” while boys are just “being boys,” and when teens go through angry stages girls are always just hormonal while boys are rebelling and growing up.

Yours in queerness,
Duo Spiritus

“My Little Tomboy”

I haven’t written in a while because I haven’t had much to write about but recently I was at a sleepover and we got to talking about the pros and cons of being our gender, one of the males in the group said that one of the downsides of being male was that it’s less acceptable for you to express feminine interests or mannerisms while if your female it’s more acceptable to express masculine interests and mannerisms. That conversation stayed in my mind as I slept that night (or from three in the morning when we went to sleep until six when I woke up) and until now as I write about it, as I thought about it I realized something that was new to me although I’m sure many others have determined this already; I finally understood WHY what my friend (We’ll call him Jim) said was true, Jim’s point was accurate because in our culture masculinity is associated with power and strength while femininity is linked with submission and weakness. A female bodied person who embraces all or some aspects of stereotypical masculinity is viewed as wanting power, and wanting power is socially acceptable, while a male bodied person who embraces conventional aspects of femininity is impossible to understand because it feels like someone trading strength for weakness.

That epiphany got me wondering how, in what we call “western” culture, masculinity became synonymous with strength and power when in so many older societies the people who bore the children were considered the powerful and the strong. What causes a society to be matriarchal or patriarchal in the first place? What might cause a shift of power? Why is it that in a communities that deny sexism a little girl can be called a “tomboy” affectionately while the term “sissy boy” is still derogatory? What do you think?

Yours in queerness,
Duo Spiritus

Growing Up is Hard To Do

I am coming into a place in my life where I no longer long for the responsibilities and privileges of adulthood, a place from which I can see just how scary growing up truly is. And although I cannot wait for new experiences I would gladly give up some of my privileges for just a few more years of near adulthood.

The same responsibilities and privileges I savored just a few years ago sit heavy on my chest and the same rites of passage I yearned for four years ago seem like demons lying in wait just beyond the light of my dying torch… I opened a time capsule from my six year old self a few months ago, the dreams I had for myself by age sixteen are nowhere near accomplished and the things I wanted then seem both silly and sensible.

Heh, my thoughts are all over the place as I write this… I wonder if such thoughts are normal, if these thoughts are mine alone or if these thoughts are reserved for those who grew up at an accelerated pace. I wonder if my fear of adulthood is really just the basic fear of the unknown or a more personal fear. And most importantly I wonder how these fears and ponderings affect my every day doings.

I suppose my main points can be summarized in an open letter to the adults who admire me for my ______. Select one or more of the following to fill in the blank;
Ambition, Intelligence, Manners, Maturity, Perfection, Self Knowledge. Or simply use any other word you feel fits in with the ones I’ve listed.

To whom it may concern,
I am sixteen years old, I am not thirty-two or sixty-four or even just eighteen. I am a TEENAGER, not an adult and I am still learning. I make mistakes, I curse, I tell naughty jokes and I make mistakes.

Yes, I do often act in ways beyond my years. And yes, I can speak with vocabulary and phrasing that is both arcane and archaic. But I am still in my youth, I am still creating a whole person out of mistakes and choices, successes and failure. Nobody should expect anybody to be successful all the time, to never make mistakes, let alone a person in the stage of life dedicated to mistakes and growth.

I AM NOT AN ADULT AND I AM NOT PERFECT.

I am Duo Spiritus, I am a growing, learning, and loving individual who curses, fucks up, thinks and talks about sex, and has imperfections. Expect my best from me, not perfection and PLEASE be understanding when I make mistakes.

Sincerely and with love,
Duo Spiritus

On a lighter note, I was just referred to in the masculine sense on my personal facebook, and that made me feel great.

Your in Queerness,
Duo Spiritus

A Good Series Is Hard To Find.

Mere moments ago I finished Inheritance, the fourth and final book of the Inheritance Cycle, and although the feeling for me was not as intense as when I underwent the same process with first the Harry Potter books and then the films it was the same feeling.

In the past 1,626 Days (232 Weeks and 2 Days or roughly 3 1/2 years) I have experienced the conclusion of an important part of my childhood. Starting with finishing the reading of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, then watching the final film of the same name and just now finishing Inheritance, and while I am not yet an adult with each of the conclusions I feel I have shed a layer of my childhood.  With the completion of this series I complete all the books with which I grew as a person and learned about myself, I no longer will await the next installment eagerly despite the years between books and although I’ll never stop re-reading I say goodbye to all the charterers I loved because I will no longer watch them grow without knowing the outcome.  Although I shall read more books, and no doubt many will touch me deeply, none will mean as much to me as those that helped me grow into myself.

With Eragon I dealt with my anger; anger at being trapped in a body that never did all I asked of it.  With Eragon I learned to protect my mind and myself while still being able to love and trust.

With Saphira I learned that love is not a weakness, I learned to be strong with the iron in my bones and brave with the fire in my belly.  And with Saphira I learned to let go and soar.

With Eragon, Brom, Saphira, Glaidr, Arya, Murtagh, Thorn and even Gallbatorix I learned the importance of names, and began the internal quest for my own true name.

With Harry I learned the importance and strength that lies in love for others, I learned that sacfriface for those you love is no sacrifice at all.

With Ron and Hermione I learned that one can find love in the most unexpected place.

With Hermione I learned “Books! And cleverness! There are more important things — friendship and bravery.”

With Draco I learned that it is never too late to change.

With Snape I learned that bravery comes in all colors, even green.

And with Tom Riddle I learned that Life without human connection, friendhip and love, is no life at all.

Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone

Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets

Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban

Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix

Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

Eragon

Eldest

Brisingr

Inheritance

These 11 books have changed my life and made me the person I am today.  A Slytherin and a Dragon Rider.

Yours in Queerness,

Duo Spiritus

Bellatora of Valens

Bellatora of Valens whirled and slashed at her foes with her sword, Sagax, her face hard but calm even as sweat dripped off the tip of her nose.  Sagax cut through her foes as soon as they dared face her, the heat of battle giving Bellatora the strength to continue the fight for her own life and that of her child.

As she fought, Bellatora thought back to the events of the past ten months. In such a small window of time she had fallen in love, wed, become pregnant and given birth to a beautiful baby boy…  It all started when she returned from the border war, when she spent a good deal of her time off in taverns and pubs blowing off steam.  While she was spending time at one of the local taverns, she met a man with whom she shared an evenings entertainment, despite her plans for him to be gone come morning, when she awoke, he was still there.  A week later she found that she had forgotten the fact she didn’t want a real relationship.  Soon she found she was in a solid relationship–spending all of her time with her new love–they sparred together and dined together, they rode together and whiled away their nights.

Bellatora was in love with this man, and the man loved her in return, they decided to wed.

After weeks of the bliss of a new relationship, Bellatora was needed back at the border–she said her goodbyes and departed as soon as she could.  Within a few days of her return to battle, Bellatora realized she was pregnant.

Bellatora continued to fight until she couldn’t hide the bump of motherhood, and by then she was too far along to take the trip home for birth.  When her time came she gave birth alone, hoping nothing would go wrong. Her only concession was her good friend, a male healer, waited outside of her tent, in the event there was a problem.

A mere week after she gave birth, the Perduellisi attacked and Bellatora armed herself and hid her child in the hope the fight would end before any enemy got near her tent.  Her hopes were soon proven wrong.

Bellatora began to fight for her life, and that of her child, when the first enemy soldier cut his way into her tent.  He was quickly followed five more Perduellisi men and women at arms.  Bellatora braced her feet against the solid ground, smoothed her face into the stone mask she wore in battle and began her fight.

An endless hour later Bellatora had slain four enemy fighters and held the last three at bay with the strength and ferocity of a mother bear protecting her young.  Reinforcements arrived and the three remaining soldiers were slain, Bellatora and her baby boy, Fictilius, were safe.

****************

This is the penultimate installment in my short story series featuring elements.  This one was inspired by the strength and stability of earth.

Yours in Queerness,

Duo Spiritus

A Strange Occurrence

The man started awake to the sound of what sounded like, but could never be, an infants wail. He knew it couldn’t be a baby because he was miles away from his closest neighbor, another recluse like himself, and nobody in their right mind would travel with a baby through the windstorm outside. He assumed it was the wind or some animal outside, nothing to worry about. Right?

As the man, Jason, went about checking that his windows and doors ere secure against the wind that beat against his house from all sides he continued to hear the screech from outside, drawing closer. After an hour or so of hearing the heart wrenching howls from just outside his front door Jason opened the door to see the strangest sight he had never thought he’d see; A baby. Now there were a lot of strange things about hat Jason saw when he opened the door; The infant seemed unaffected by the wind or the cold, the baby was without a parent or any mean to get onto his porch and the child was a shade of white that humans just don’t achieve.

Jason took the child into his home with the intention of keeping it safe until he could take the infant to a better place for a small baby.

Ten years later a he heard a knock at his door, when Jason opened the door he saw a wild looking woman with the same color skin as the child he had intended to get rid of when the storm broke. “Where is my child?” she asked in a breathy voice “It is time for my child to return to their home.” Jason was quite taken aback, this woman wanted a child she had abandoned on his doorstep in a storm back? “I’m not sure you should have him back…” He said softly, not wanting to anger her. “He’s been happy here.” The woman smiled in understanding as she said “Jason, you have done your work wonderfully, but windfolk need only live as human for the first ten years of life.” As the woman spoke he felt is spirit lift and soar as if he were flying. When he came down both the woman and the child had gone, as had any evidence of either.

As the days left him so too did all hi memory of the encounter.

So here is my story inspired by wind, perhaps when I finish this I’ll have some new interesting current events fodder for my blogs…

Yours in Queerness,
Duo Spiritus