Can you be brutal with me? Or at least real and critical?

Hi there friends. I sort of disappeared abruptly, and it wasn't intentional! I wrote a post a few weeks ago, about being happy, and then suddenly life changed a little (in a way that sounds bad, but I feel good about it), and also, I got REALLY busy, because we had to go away to see my family in America and I just had no time to do anything but prepare for that, and then to be there and be full on with the kids and my family, and now I'm back and I'm obsessed with something related to the change I just mentioned.

The change: I lost my job, 2 days before leaving to see my family. I was basically made redundant (laid off). But... I have been wanting to refocus my career for a while, so maybe it's a blessing in disguise (?). So I'm working on that. I've been applying to job posts for community work for the LGBTQ community, which I really really want to get; and I'm also really interested in writing, (I've been writing professionally for a long time, like 10 years, but I want to change the focus of my writing), I'm wanting to be more creative just in general, but I'd love if I could write about LGBTQ topics.

Anyway, today I've been playing around with my writing, some things I've already posted here. But these are things I wanted to do to start developing my voice. I do not intend necessarily to show these exact pieces as writing samples, but I want to give myself space to develop a voice, and I was hoping to post these things here and get opinions on whether the writing is any good at all. Please be honest with me, just about whether the writing is good, whether the tone is interesting, relatable, etc. I'll post each as a response to this, if i can. Coming back in a second with some examples:

 

Here's one, I think my voice has a lot of variation, this one's a bit silly:

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#OMGi’msogay



So, today while getting my coffee in Starbucks, in my sleepy stupor, I was convinced that the barista, recognising my drink order, and giving me a warm smile, was flirting with me. Her eyes seemed to linger on mine just a bit, and that started my heart beating it’s usual beat when a pretty woman notices me. Quite pleased with myself, I went into the bathroom, sheepishly looked at myself in the mirror, and heard my inner voice say, omg, I’m so goddamn gay.


And that brought me back to all those school days, all the girls I spent time admiring, the magazines that drew my attention, the rare on-screen lesbian kiss that made my heart melt and my brain glaze over…. and yeah, guys… how did i not know I was so goddamn gay!?


So…..here’s a peak into the life of little fledgling lesbian me, tiny baby gay me, being all super gay, and denying every second of it.


#1: “Right, like she’s my bestie, and I’m weirdly over-attached, that’s why I’m jealous of all her boyfriends…..”

Yeah, my best girl-friends, not all of them, but some of them, I was like, so in love with. There was one particular one, sigh, who I knew, much more than the others. But all the heartbreak, the longing, the long conversations, the feelings. Hayley Kiyoko, why were you not there in my teenage years to channel all my feelings through your songs? Sleepover in my bed, yep. That pretty much sums up teenage longing me.


#2: “Guuuuuuuuuuuyyyyys! Let’s go to the gay bar! Right? Right???”

I mean, of all the clubs in every city I’ve traveled to,and in my own city, my first choice was always, always, without fail, The Gay Bar. Like every time. And then I’d walk out at the end of the night, like, so chuffed because a few girls presumed I was gay. I mean, I’d attempt to toss my spiky hair, what is it that makes them think that? (as I smile, press my wide rimmed glasses up my nose,run my hand over my short spiky hair, and roll up the sleeves on my button down shirt.) Uh, yeah, I’m so gay.


#3: The posters of dudes on my wall, these were not like my crushes, they were the guys I was like emulating. I still laugh about the picture of me posing next to Mike Tyson, my arm bandaged up like I’m ready for battle, and I’m just so oblivious that most girls put posters on their wall because they um, like the guys in the poster. I mean, what’s the point of that?


#4 All boys as they flirted up my bestie at a bar: Your lesbian friend, is she coming along with us?

I don’t know how many times, like how many goddamn times I’ve been called a lesbian in my life, way before I ever uttered the word on my own. Pretty much every night I’d go out with my friends, I was referred to as “your lesbian friend” or “your friend’s a lesbian, right?” Or, “well, but you’re a lesbian, so…”


#5: My type? Ummmm, yeah I don’t know.

When I was growing up, and as a teen and in my twenties, I was scrambling to understand how the hell to identify what kind of guy I actually liked. Because, well, I didn’t really fancy any guys, like at all. I’d grow fond of guys, and I was really comfortable around guys, and then eventually they’d want to make out, and I gave it a go. And it was alright. But with women, well my type is… women…. I love pretty much all there is to like in women… ahem…. ok brain is going places, I’m back. Hi.

 

Here's another (I've posted this here before):

"words":



words have always held such power over me, words that fit, that say so much in such a small space.

lesbian.


That word has slithered off the tongue, punched me in the gut, raised the hairs on my neck, twisted emotions in my stomach.

I'm a lesbian.


I desire, need, want to have, hold, make love to, be with, love a woman. Her face, her lips, her skin, her breasts stir me, move me, make my heart leap, make my heart fill with warmth, make my body move and pulse with need, desire, passion.

dyke.


my hair, my clothes, hard edges, straight lines, softness underneath. Short hair, men's trousers, loose t-shirts set my soul free, express my sense of me, embrace, celebrate my inner self.

I'm a dyke. butch. tomboy.


gay. lesbian. dyke.


They're my badges.

of pride. of honesty. of authenticity. truth.

I can hold those words on my tongue now, sing them like music. dyke. lesbian. butch. That's who i am. it's my strength. it's my truth. it's my freedom. it's me.

 

I've posted this here before too (this one's also pretty silly):


Just like Harry Potter:


ok... um nerd alert! Queer friends, bear with me because I'm about to share the inner workings of my head and what it reveals is that I'm either slowly going mad or I'm really just a 12 year old deep down... hopefully this will be at least mildly entertaining or maybe someone can relate to my very weird logic?


So I've been having trouble focusing lately. I'm just damn overwhelmed. I mean life has been one massive overhaul for 2 1/2 years with added twists and turns and challenges. I’ve come out of the closet at 36, separated from my husband, met a woman, and started blending familes with her.


So as I'm trying to let all the inner noise die down I was thinking all these things that feel so complicated in my life, they're just what my life is now, it doesn't matter how I got here, all the things that exist in my present just are what they are, there are things that bring joy, things that bring pain, things that are wonderful and beautiful, things that are difficult and stressful. …. You know just like in Harry Potter....


"huh?"


...I think for me the hardest thing about coming out, and having it change everything in my life so drastically and painfully, particularly because my family live across the ocean from me, is that I have lost an sense of grounding, an anchor, life feels a bit surreal. But, when you think about it, perhaps I don’t need for everything to make total sense, maybe I can just immerse myself in this surreal reality. It’s a bit like when you read (or watch) Harry Potter - you suspend disbelief, you put yourself into the fictional world and accept it for what it is, which would be something helpful in my own sense of disbelief in my life when I think things like how the hell did i get *here* when just three years ago I was just this average frustrated empty wife and mum living a fairly ordinary life, how did I end up here with all of these things that feel so foreign and unfamiliar and just different from the expectations and reality of my life? But it doesn’t matter that Hagrid plucked Harry out of the muggle world or that I had this one pivotal moment of right, I'm gay, and then everything just changed, rapidly and in extraordinary ways...

Harry before entering the wizarding world, spent his years living in his broom closet (had to go there), but then once in the wizarding world, his world opened up and there he was - living, *really* living, making real friends, taking risks, growing and becoming a full person. And this step out of the closet is much the same, it's a step into a reality with colour and life and connections and meaning. And potential for real joy, And the ability to reach our full potential.

But again just like the wizarding world, this new world we live in, I live in, it has its own rich and real and raw ups and downs, heartaches and joys,some really painful things, some incredibly wonderful things, battles, fears, but also bigger wins, bigger potential for love and life. And my life it has its own new set of rules, my reality, this new normal, has me with a daughter, an ex husband, a new partner, friends that overlap my new and old life, two little boys that are becoming like stepsons, groups and networks in the LGBT community, a family overseas, new family I'm building...

I know this is very bizarre, and a bit hilarious, but this has made me feel oddly relaxed, to think of it all this way. Guys, what's the verdict, slowly losing my mind? Infinite 12 year old?

 

And this one, it's stuff most of you all know about me, just told in a summary:

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Just a bit about how it all unfolded:


So, I came out of the closet at the age of 36, and I was certain (you know how we do this, we convince ourselves of these undeniable truths about the universe), that *no one* was going through something like this at *this* age, I mean, most people have their sexuality sorted at what like 16, 18….20?


Of course, this is not the case, and as I’ve learned through this very difficult and mindblowing journey, there are so many stories, so many paths, so many experiences in being gay, bi, trans…


It’s not like I’ve never realised I’m gay. The funny thing is, basically, I knew all the facts, all the feelings, all the pieces of the puzzle, but somehow my brain did not put the whole puzzle together to make one big picture. I knew that girls made my heart beat like crazy, that I loved to watch girls move, laugh, to see their hair softly touch their face… I admired women’s bodies, and with men, I often really admired, well…. the clothes they were wearing…. ha (hmmm… I could really wear those shoes…). I was ok with guys, I mean, I’ve always been drawn to men in a way that I understand better now as a sense of really strong understanding, kinship,a bond, an affection. I love dudes, and in a lot of ways I feel a lot like one of the dudes. (and yes I never realised I’m gay, guys I’m so gay!)


Yeah I suppose I have to mention a word that nobody really wants to talk about, but it’s the truth and there’s no other way to describe my experience without it: shame. I knew that the concept of being gay, being a lesbian, and if you’re like me, a butch lesbian, the idea of a girl desiring a girl… this was viewed as ridiculous, disgusting, wrong. And I had just the right (wrong?) mix of experiences that made that shame resonate within me. So I took the feelings I had for girls (and later women), and those I had for boys (later, men), and I revised the descriptions and labels for my feelings to fit what could be accepted. I knew what girls made me feel, but I could view it as what all other straight girls feel, just like viewing art, finding beauty in women’s bodies. My attachment and desire for some of my close girl friends, that was an “unhealthy attachment for my friends”… With men, feeling relatively happy around them, I could call that love.


Oh, guys, yeah the way our brains work, the perspectives our hearts take on when we feel we can’t, just can’t let ourselves go where our natural feelings take us.


Now that I’ve been out for a few years, and I’m with my female partner, and I have a whole community of queer friends, I cannot imagine my life as anything but what it is. But there’s still a duality of desire that exists. I created a life, a whole straight persona, that brought along with it people I built relationships with, and a daughter. There’s love and affection there for that life. I’m realising now, that that affection and love won’t go away, and maybe I don’t want it to. But there’s also my identity, and the life I have now, which feels so natural and right. And I can’t help but harbour a deep desire to have had more of that experience for longer in my life. I want to be able to look back at myself at 18 and remember experiences I never really let myself have, remember women I fell for, women I made love to, made out with, had one night stands with, had incredible or terrible experiences with. There’s no way to ever have that past, so I suppose what I should be doing right now is accepting what is, what was and working towards what will be. But we all know how that works, right? I also shouldn’t be drinking 3 cups of coffee each morning or staying up late surfing the internet either, should I? So, one day I guess I’ll tackle all these vices…. But right now, I’ve got to go and get myself another cup of coffee.

 

don't worry if your thoughts are, wow, that's really bad writing. Ha ha better to hear the truth!

What I'd like to do is write on loads of LGBTQ topics, I have loads of ideas, editorial style writing about LGBTQ issues... I may post a few of those too, but they need some tweaking. This morning I was working on writing my personal experiences.

 

Thank you! I'm not sure yet, but I have loads of things to say, and I just wish I could sit all day long and just write them all. I have been looking at places to publish articles, but obviously it would be more ideal to have a long term position writing at least part time for an organisation or publication. I have no clue whether my writing's even close to good enough for any of that though, I just know I love doing it.

Ha, about the Costa Coffee moment, I know, sigh, I'm sure (in my case) she was just being friendly. But she walked over to my table 20 min ago as well, and said "S (my name)." looked in my eyes, "can I take these for you?" deep breath, omg lovely barista, thank you for the excitement today hahaha

 

ok some more samples, these are more about views/issues; I've been writing this stuff for a while, and I'm just collecting and tweaking it at the moment; I'd likely want to expand these issue things into fuller longer pieces of critical writing:

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Gendered bathrooms

Small anecdote, dear queer friends, a little story I want to share with you all; I went into our bathroom a floor above me in my office building to find a new sign had been put up inside:


“This bathroom is for ladies only!”


Apparently someone has offended the sensibilities of the people who use the bathroom and someone felt compelled to spend their work time making signs (there were a few others up as well for non related things, with illustrations and everything...). My first thought honestly was - is this because a few people have misgendered me in this bathroom? Are they referring to *me*?? As I'm very butch, with quite short mostly shaved hair, this happens to me a lot, the bathroom double take. After that absurd egotistical moment I thought...uh likely this is not about me...

But it reminded me of this issue with bathrooms, and it's brought up some points which make me feel very uncomfortable with gendered bathrooms:

1/ I realise this is a cultural norm but I think it's one worth challenging and in some ways, it necessitates challenging: what is inherently gendered about the activities we do in the bathroom, especially considering we have stalls for privacy? I want to pick apart *why* this norm exists and whether or not there is any value to this norm.

Is it related to privacy in terms of some cultural norm that "if I presume I have the same "parts" as others sharing my bathroom, supposedly I should feel more comfortable"?

Is it related to heteronormative sexual attraction, and some need to separate males and females who might otherwise be paired sexually?

2/ there's a problem with this in terms of trans issues - this is obviously the most pressing issue. A transman being kept from a male space or vice versa for a transwoman, is demoralising and humiliating, it disregards their identity, it completely ignores their human need to be recognised as who they are.

It's well-known that trans folks have trouble entering the correct bathroom space for them, whether it's because bigots are policing their bathroom use, or because of safety fears or because of discomfort, stigma and shame....

3/ there is a massive problem with gender binary in general in our culture; in this case if someone identifies as non binary, the bathroom must be a place of massive discomfort.

For myself personally, even just being butch and genderqueer, I find it uncomfortable to have people jump back in horror for approximately .00005 seconds when they think I'm a dude in the girls bathroom, until their head computes it all.

I'm interested in considering why we even need gendered bathrooms. Would it be more sensible and inclusive to simply have only unisex bathrooms available?

 

i was going to share a few more issue ones, but i would need to tweak them a bit more. I'm feeling a bit vulnerable sharing this stuff, haha. But I'm genuinely interested in critical responses, so please hit me with them if this is bad or good or somewhere in the middle...

 

Hi again! Thank you, all of you, you've helped me do some thinking. All of your advice was really helpful. I'm embarrassed by the other stuff I've written and shared, I know it was a mess (cringe). I also believe that I have the potential to be good at this kind of writing, but it will take a lot of work to get there. I think I've got loads to work on - style and tone, understanding my audience, and finding my own voice, to name a few.

I've worked on another one, based on some things your comments have led me to read about in terms of finding your voice. So I think this is a small improvement in that area... this feels much more like *my* voice. I could probably add a bit more lighthearted bits in some places, but this feels more like me coming through in the writing...

If you're willing to give me critical comments again, please do, if it's just terrible, it will help me to hear it. I'm not easily hurt, so hit me with it if it just literally sucks.

Is it relatable? Interesting? Written well at all? Is it too serious/heavy or does it feel light enough to keep your interest?

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I’ve never felt exposed until I met H---, my heart, my body, my needs, all exposed, for her to do with what she wants. I felt it on that night when she told me she had feelings for me, in the basement at the pub, sitting together on the curved booth, her eyes penetrating right through me, and her hand inching closer to mine. You would think I was a teenager, the way that moment made my heart beat, the way I fumbled for words, for anything to say that could convey all the complexities of emotions she made me feel, but to be sure to convey how much I wanted to feel her fingers on top of mine, and my lips on hers. I was hers in that moment, and I still am. Hers. Always. She could do what she wants with me, break me into pieces if she wanted, or flood my soul with all of those feelings. I’m hers.


This was the moment that I yearned for all my life, I’d imagined it so many times, and searched for it, but began to believe it just wasn’t something I would have. For most of my life, I thought perhaps I was just broken, that maybe that’s why I could never feel, and have, those things I saw other couples share. But then I did something that changed everything.


I didn’t change my life for H----, I did it before I met her, because a part of me woke up, and realised what the big empty spaces were in my life until then. I was 36 years old when I came out to myself. It was one of those moments that on one hand felt so completely life altering, but also felt so simple and so obvious and like a truth that was always known. And of course it was all those things.


As a kid, I knew I was gay. I just didn’t call it that. I played with the boys, and I watched the girls, I admired them, felt fascinated with their movements, their laughter, their conversations. I watched them brush each other’s hair, and wanted them to touch mine, but also wondered at the whole process, like - why are they doing this, what’s all this meant to be for? I understood boys, they were simple, and we liked the same things, and I knew exactly what to do with them.


Boys. It was made clear to me in so many ways that the “natural” order of things was love = girl + boy. This wasn’t generally thrown at me with malice or overzealous homophobia. This often came in the form of casual commentary of people around me, often in good spirit, in light hearted banter, in subtle implications. But it also came in the form of hostility, ignorance and stigma; there was certainly a fairly regular dose of that. I was a tomboy growing up. I struggled enough with that identity, with people taking it to mean I was a homo, a dyke. All the badges I take on with pride today, felt like poison being flung at me in the playground, on the street, in the high school hallways. So when I recognised those feelings in me at various points in my life, I rarely named them for what they are...when I was 16, speaking on the phone with my friend A----, the giggles she was sharing with her boyfriend, and the internal turmoil that it set off inside my belly…. I didn’t name those feelings I had for her. The daggers I felt in my belly when I found my friend E----- making out with her boyfriend, the waves of longing when G---- would put her arms around my waist…I never named those things for what they were. Still there were other times when I did name it. There was that time, at 10 years old, when the feelings were so unmistakable, when I stared endlessly at S----'s newly developing curves, watched the curls dance around her face as she laughed. I laid in bed that night, crippled with the thoughts, and I said it - I’m gay, am I gay? And I knew in that moment that I couldn’t share it with anyone. There was my stepbrother’s wedding day, when I was 20, when I realised that I wanted to marry a woman. And the whole scenario unfolded in my head, meeting her, falling in love, and bringing her home to meet my family. And that’s where the scenario changed the swelling in my heart to a lump in my chest. I tried at various times to come out to myself, at age 16, 20, 23... I told my brother, my mother, one of my boyfriends, one of my best friends. I almost let myself try to kiss a girl so many times.


To be clear, my family are incredibly supportive. Now. And likely they would have been 80% there then, when I was at age 16, 20, 23. And it would have grown to the 100% I have now. But, they were just a bit more relaxed than most families at the time, and certainly not all of my family members were ok with all of these things.


It’s hard to explain the complexities of how it all works internally. When the overriding messages in society are that your desires are wrong, disgusting, bad, sinful, unwell, weird, strange, abnormal… an internal narrative builds inside of you to respond to that message. Some of us, some awesome amazing people turn that narrative into “eff you, eff you and your messages and your perceptions of me, I am what I am”. Some of us turn that narrative into “that’s not me, my truth is actually ___”, and then we go on with our lives until the truth comes back to smack us in the face. Some of us build a narrative somewhere in the middle, one which is a bit raw and painful but still manages to allow us to live our truths, at least in some form, or in some measure.


I’m one of those who built a different truth, until the truth decided to run me over like a mack truck and derail my entire life. I know why I built this other truth. My story involves a lot of complexities. One of those is sexual trauma in childhood, which made me want to ignore and repress much of my sexuality in general, and especially anything deemed wrong or unwell. I also felt a lot of isolation in my childhood, from moving around a lot, and this was one more thing that I knew would bring me isolation. And I suppose it’s also a mixture of my own personality, my own way of responding to difficult truths. There’s no simple, straight (pardon the pun), answer as to why it all happened the way that it did.


But there I was, 36 years old, married to a guy, with a beautiful little daughter, when the truth decided it didn’t want to stay inside anymore. And I had no choice but to confront it.


I remember lying in bed the day I told my husband that I was questioning my sexuality. His first words were “you’re leaving me”, and my response was, “this changes nothing, nothing between us will change”. Three years later, a separation between us, a new partner in my life, and a blended family building between us all, and I suppose now looking back, I can say, well that was the understatement of a lifetime.

 

Thank you <3 I think before I was trying to write in a style that maybe doesn't fit me.... I read something that gave advice somewhere along the line of - if you're not feeling vulnerable when you write, you're not writing from your voice. So this time I tried to write from my vulnerability.

 

Thank you <3 I think before I was trying to write in a style that maybe doesn't fit me.... I read something that gave advice somewhere along the line of - if you're not feeling vulnerable when you write, you're not writing from your voice. So this time I tried to write from my vulnerability.