Recently the topic of faith has become popular within my social circles, leaving me on the outside. My personal belief system is drawn from sources of all kinds (actual religions, fictional faiths, my own mind ect.) and based on believing only the things that truly resonate within me, when I discus matters of faith with people the accepted norm is to name your “camp;” the organized religion that you belong to and that is when those of us who stand alone and away from every camp can see just how alone they are.
One of the most common ways for people to sort themselves is by belief systems: Christian v. Atheist, Pro-war v. Anti-war, Rebublican v. Democrat, Rap v. Metal, Coke v. Pepsi… The list is endless. But in the realm of religion (and, for the sake of this article, both Atheism and Agnosticism count as religions) it isn’t so much a matter of A v. B as it is a matter of hundreds of warring factions demanding that you declare allegiance to one, be it the one you were born into or the one you have chosen. Why is that? Why is it that the choice to believe what you truly believe and nothing else cannot be respected and accepted? Why do so many people choose to take a predetermined set of beliefs rather than create their own?
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,
“No homo” is a phrase I’ve heard and seen after phrases as innocuous as (“I love your shoes”) to the most sapphic (“Your tits look GREAT in that top”) and no matter what precedes it the phrase confounds me. What about paying someone a complement indicates romantic interest? And isn’t romantic interest just another complement? If you understand this phenomenon, feel free to explain it to me but if you are as confused as I am then feel free to share this question with whomever insists that they are “no homo.”
Yours in Queerness,
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,
This is a beautifully done piece of spoken word, I recommend it.
Yours in Queerness,
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,
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,
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,
**This post may contain spoilers regarding the book Divergent by Veronica Roth, if that bothers you, skip to the conclusion.**
So I’ve been listening to the audio book of Divergent, and I’ve reached a few conclusions and even more questions, mostly about myself. I’ve concluded that, most likely, the aptitude test would place me in Amity, Erudite or Dauntless (or I’d be Divergent) and that I would choose Dauntless with very little hesitation. I also realized that if I were to be forced to face my innermost fears rather then the fears I allow myself to think about I would most likely be surprised.
**At this point if you want to avoid spoilers you can read again**
I have spent many years of my life finding, facing and/or controlling my fears, the physical ones at least. I once feared heights and so, like Keladry, (Protector of the Small quartet by Tamora Pierce) I forced myself to face heights whenever I could, I rode roller coasters and thrill rides that forced me onto high places and then dropped me from them, I climbed things and jumped down, I went up tall buildings and looked down until the fact my brain told me to be afraid had no effect on my body or my clarity of thought. There was a time I feared fire, I learned everything I could about fire, I played with fire and in time I learned to understand fire until when I saw fire I felt both fear and attraction.
**Spoilers, but mild ones that shouldn’t really spoil anything at all unless you’ve already guessed what will happen next**
Other then Heights and Fire I have not suffered from many fears, not counting those that came from lack of worldly experience, but I knew there had to be things I fear besides those two obvious choices. And then Divergent reminded me of fears outside the physical. I realized how much I fear vulnerability, how much I fear intimacy, how much I fear a lack of intimacy and how much I fear removing the armor I have constructed around my emotions and affections.
**Spoilers are all gone, go ahead and read.**
When I realized those fears I realized that those fears may just be why I have never opened up to someone in a romantic way. Not only did I fear rejection I feared the vulnerability and the weakness that comes with it. But like all my other fears I know that by acknowledging this one I can face it and control it. Well, I hope I can…
I now have an internal debate about how to deal with these fears; one side argues that both physical and emotional intimacy will get easier if I just practice, just get it over with, while the other says that I should ease into it starting emotionally and, eventually, ending physically when the moment is right. Over the weekend at a party the “get it over with like a band-aid” part of me won out for a while and I had my first “kiss,” although I hesitate to call the small collection of three second pecks actual kisses. This was of course while playing two different silly party games; Suck and blow, a game in which you move a card of some sort around a circle of people by first holding it to your mouth by sucking in air and then pass it to your neighbor by them sucking in air while you blow out air, and if you or your neighbor drops the card you have to kiss and then spin the bottle. The unromantic, three second kisses while somebody counts the seconds were awkward to say the least and most of me doesn’t even count any of them as a “first kiss.” But another part of me is glad I didn’t make it to seventeen and never been kissed.
But I’m off topic, and as you can clearly see, the topic is fear. What do you fear? Have you faced it? Controlled it? If not, why? Let me know in the comments below!
Yours in Queerness,
Yesterday I attended a “presentation” about safe sex for queer youth, there were so many problems with the presenter I could not begin to address them all in my blog. But I CAN try to give better answers (based on research, not expertise) to the questions that came up. But remember, I am not a doctor or any other expert on sex of any kind, so read what I have to say and then go look at the resources I paired with each question . And ask a real doctor any important questions.
Q. Could I get HIV/AIDS from food? Or any STD really….
A. Nearly all STDs are transmitted only by the exchange of blood or genital secretions, the exceptions to that rule are genital warts and herpes (as far as I know) in which case it is contact between the sore or wart (as well as blood and genital secretions) and sensitive skin or a wound that can result in contracting the STD. The best way to be safe and avoid STDs is to only have sex with a person you love and trust, and both you and your partner getting tested regularly.
Q. What is a Dental Dam?
A. A dental dam is a piece of latex or silicone that one should place between their mouth and their patners vagina/anus when participating in oral sex. This creates a barrier between partners to prevent spreading of STDs and should be used if you do not know if your partner is free of STDs or you know your partner does indeed have an STD. But the best way to prevent STDs is still to be picky about who you have sex with. Although in the singular case of deantal dams a QUALITY plastic wrap will work as well.
Q. If I ask my doctor for birth control/plan B wont they tell my parents?
A. At age twelve your parents have no right to information shared between you and your gynecologist, for females age twelve is the age they receive legal control over the reproductive health. I do not know if the same is true for biological males…
Q. What about “Pulling out?” Doesn’t that work too?
A. No, “pulling out” provides no protection against STDs and very little protection against unwanted pregnancy. There are indeed sperm in pre-ejaculatory fluids. (pre-cum)
Remember to do your own research, using reliable sources, and wait to have sex until you and a partner you love are ready.
Yours in Queerness,
For most the holiday season is a time of great joy, family, kindness and so many other good things, but we should not forget that there may be someone near us for whom the holiday season brings naught but pain. There are those who have no family to turn to, no home to decorate or funds for festivities, there are people who have had awful things happen in their life around this time and the yuletide greetings do nothing for them but return them to those horrid times and there are people for whom this is their first holiday alone.
Look around you, and at yourself, if while you look you see someone who is saddened by the holiday cheer then do what you can to help. Listen to them, give them a hug or suggest resources for them. I’ve included a few depression and suicide prevention resources for you yo use yourself or share with someone who needs your love right now.
This is a site that has a more comprehensive list of suicide prevention hotlines then I could ever create: http://www.befrienders.org/
The Trevor Project has both online IMing and a hotline for queer youth dealing with depression and suicidal thoughts or feelings, as well as resources for their friends and loved one: http://www.thetrevorproject.org/
And remember that I am here to answer questions or just give friendship.
Yours in Queerness,