joy

For the longest time, I thought that because I married a man and had babies, I couldn’t be bi/pansexual.

When I first met my husband-to-be as a wee 22 year old, I hadn’t yet claimed queerness as a part of my identity. I’d been on dates with other women and had engaged in plenty of fantasies involving women, men, and enbies, but it took decades to work through the shame United Baptism had left inside of me surrounding my sexual identity and expression. Once I let go of that shame and accepted my sexual desires, I still felt like an imposter. How could I be queer if I hadn’t had sex with a woman? How could I truly be pan if I’d married a man?

Turns out I was repressed, oppressed, disconnected from myself, and completely confused about what queer even means.

The past two years have been transformative for me. My sister began her journey with transitioning, inspiring me to more fully embrace my own queer side. I also realized that I don’t need to sleep with anyone to prove my sexuality. And Covidlife made me realize how so very wrong America is in basically every way possible, especially as it relates to sexual identity and gender roles. A white supremacist, heteronormative, capitalist, imperialist, war-mongering, oligarch-worshipping patriarchy? Yeah, not surprised it sucks.

Instead of forcing myself to fit into one of our society’s checkboxes, I’m ready to step outside of the whole thing and live another way, focused on honesty, creativity, collaboration, collective healing, and love – for myself, for you, for all creatures, for the entire planet.

Guess what? It feels awesome to finally accept and explore my full self and to restructure my days around the philosophies I believe in, rather than the ones I was raised in and still felt chained to as an adult.

What’s also awesome is how incredibly supportive my husband has been throughout this journey. Not just supportive, but totally on board. I’m so grateful to have such a co-collaborator/conspirator in life (I think in a few past lives, too). Together, we are raising and homeschooling two kids, creating and maintaining a beautiful home, making loud rock-n-roll music, engaging in local activism. Now we get to explore my queerness together, too? I’m swooning.

Sending big love and good-sex vibes out to everyone. Happy pride, y’all!! 🌈

This month marks 18 years living in the Northeast, 13 of them in Brooklyn. Before that I spent 18 years in KY. And now, in the same month in which I crossed this personal threshold of an equal number of years here as there, I find myself packing up my apartment and moving back to Middle America because Dave and I can no longer afford the rent.

Covid did the unthinkable: it shut down New York City’s entertainment and nightlife industry. Dave, like so many others, is out of work indefinitely. It’s a huge loss, not just of income but of a whole community.

But get this – my sister, Kelly, bought the house next door to my sibling, Max, then invited us to spend the upcoming year in one big Covid family compound. Four adults (aka my three moms and a Dave), four kids, two dogs, and one cat, doing our best to make it through this pandemic, this curse/gift of remote school and virtual offices, this country’s blatant racism, this frightening election season, this even more frightening climate crisis, together.

When I first left for college in Boston, I never would have guessed that I would fall in love with the Northeast, that I would come to identify myself as a New Yorker, as a part of the city, the city a part of me. It is hard to leave; there is sadness to be felt. But I am also very excited. Covid has pushed me into a place I never would have imagined. It’s scary and beautiful and full of magic. I am so grateful to have landed like this.

Will we return to a life in Brooklyn? I hope so. But these days, who knows what the future will bring. I’m still setting goals and dreaming dreams, but I’m not committing myself to any of them. Truth is, we never knew – and will never know – what the future holds for us. We humans built a society and made plans that gave us a false sense of control, of power, of certainty. We trusted it would continue despite how shaky, broken, and inherently oppressive it all is. Covid has changed me. It has changed us all. I would never choose any of this, but now that it’s here, I want to be changed by it.

I might not know where I’ll be living, what I’ll be doing, or what our country will even look like in a year from now, but what I do know is that I will never stop trying to bring a little more peace, justice, and joy into this existence. Too many people, especially people of color and immigrants, are not landing like my family is. Instead they are being murdered by police. They are being beaten and thrown into cages by ICE. They are being told that their lives don’t matter as much as the walls of their neighbors’ houses. They are being harassed by landlords, forcing them to choose between paying for food or paying for rent. There is no going back. And why would we? Our country was founded upon genocide and built upon slavery. All of its systems are rooted in white supremacy and the exploitation of labor. Our entire world is burning, literally and metaphorically.

This is our opportunity to transform.