yeah, okay, we're gonna need to talk about that.

I got onto Facebook because all week, I’ve seen many of my friends sharing a blog post entitled, “I’m Christian, Unless You’re Gay.” I finally managed to avoid all the traffic to the site (5:45 am Chicago time is best) and take a look at the article. The more I read, the more the words and meaning resonated with me. It made me angry, and sad, and relieved. 

For those of you who know me well, I am a champion of getting all sensitive about LGBT rights and issues. I’m constantly disappointed by the people who I have to spend my time around, whether it’s co-workers, customers, friends who don’t understand that it’s still sensitive, or people on the street who believe they need to chip in their two cents regardless. 

For some of you, the last time you knew me, I was in church on Sundays, went to Bible studies during the week, and attempted for a few years of my life to live a more “Christlike” life. I’m not saying that all religion is bad - Jesus was an amazing human. Eating with the tax collectors and the hookers. Healing people he didn’t even know, no questions asked. This guy was the shit - he truly would care for you and love you without knowing a single thing about you. He wasn’t afraid of consequence - that’s character. 

Maybe I should step back a little bit and explain how I got to typing this today. 

In the back of my mind growing up (from age 10 on) I always knew there was something different about me. I felt different. I never talked about it growing up, mostly because I lived in a small town where 1. there were hardly any gay people, and 2. the gay people were fags and dykes (two words that I knew nothing about). When I got into high school, I was curious just like everyone else about sexuality and relationships, and I only knew of one kind of relationship - between a man and a woman. It wasn’t because same-sex relationships didn’t exist; it’s simply because the household I was raised in truly promoted ignorance on the matter. So when I started to date, I started to date men. 

When I moved to Illinois 10 years ago, my sister encouraged me to be part of a youth group in the area - whether it was school related, church related, related or non-related - she knew I needed friends. I needed to get out and become myself, to grow with those my age (I was more or less raised as an only child). Within a few months I found myself connecting with a youth group at a local church. I was really excited, here was my chance to make friends who would accept me for me, would love me regardless and would be supportive of my growth and what that would turn into. 

At first, things were good. But slowly and surely - it became like nothing I’d ever known before. 

There was a kid in our bible study group who a few of us went to high school with. Knowing like I know now - the guy was gay. We would spend some weeks talking in bible study about homosexuality and how it’s considered a sin; while I wasn’t to the realization that I was gay, he was - and he was alone. He had to sit and listen to us spout off our mouths about how sinful it is, how we need to pray for them and how it got drilled into us that the only good relationship was one between a man and a woman. I could only imagine how terrified he was of all of us - he was looking for friends, a community that would accept him, and the one he chose to be a part of was the group that wanted him to be something other than himself. 

That same year that I sat in a circle talking about how terrible being gay was - I took it upon myself to unknowingly destroy a great friendship with someone. Again, another guy I went to high school with (I was in theatre and so were all of my friends, both gay and straight) who had opened up to me previously and said he thought he was gay. 

My response? I went to Borders like a total bitch, bought a book that was the trend in my church about being a man of God and how women were the only option to become that. 

I think that incident happened about 9 years ago. I’m so ashamed of what I did and how I acted - this man trusted me with his burden, and I more or less slapped him in the face with what was so wrong about it. I think about that situation a lot - I wish that our friendship could be restored, but I feel so much shame for how I treated him that I wouldn’t want to spend much time with me, either. We’ve seen each other a few times over the years, took a trip together to Las Vegas - but deep down, I cry for how horrible I was to him when he trusted me and needed me the most. 

That’s what religion was supposed to teach me? To battle difference with intolerance? To see someone who was in desperate need of love from a peer, and to blatantly disregard that need? That’s not right. It never was. If I could take that day back, I would ten times over. I should have taken it back then, when it happened - but my teachings from people I came to trust had fooled me into believing that what I had done to my friend was out of love. How in the hell could what I have done been a symbol of love? You could look at a circle and call it a square - but that doesn’t make it so. What I did was not out of love, even though that’s how I branded it. 

I left for college in the fall of 2006. At that time, I was still going to church - but I was not exactly living the lifestyle that my church expected of me. I was already going out to bars before 21, I wasn’t trying to push any sort of religious agenda on anyone - and I realized that I was more comfortable just letting people live their lives instead of trying to imprint some sort of philosophy on why/what they were doing. On Sundays though, you know I was all cleaned up and ready to talk about Jesus all day long. 

When I went to college, I started dating and sleeping with men. None of my relationships with men could actually work out - the physical part, the sexual part of those relationships weren’t poor necessarily - I just noticed they all lacked something. I couldn’t figure out what it was, but I knew that if I figured it out then a lot of things would begin to make sense. 

In the fall of 2007, I lived my fall semester in a dorm suite with 3 other girls. One we didn’t know, one who I had developed a great friendship with the previous year, and one who dated our RA from the year before. We were having fun together, going out to parties, playing video games and just sharing stories and laughing. 

The day came where one of my roommates told me she was bisexual. Besides a co-worker I had a few years prior to this, I didn’t know any other woman who was even possibly gay. We started talking about how she found out (she attended an all girls high school) about her sexuality, and how it impacted her. She showed me a picture of a girl she had met online and was chatting with. Then she showed me a picture she had taken of herself to send to this girl - the kind of picture that was only meant for her to see. 

Apparently all it took was a picture of a nude woman to turn the wheel to the vault that would open the door to the biggest secret I didn’t even know about myself. We had gone outside together for a cigarette shortly after she showed me that - and the next few events would solidify what was happening even more. 

I had another friend who I had met through one of my best friends from high school. He was clearly gay, was flamboyant and not shy about it at all - and I was immediately hooked. I admired his ability to not give a shit about who said what, who looked at him and why. We spent a lot of time together talking - and he told me about his experience with the church - and I started to see how alike his story was to mine. 

A couple weeks after this conversation, I met another gentleman outside of my dorm one day while smoking. He looked a little rugged with gorgeous blue eyes and a contagious giggle. I didn’t know it yet, but he was about to become my best friend and confidant - but I at first glance had a little schoolgirl crush. 

Halloween weekend, this guy and I had gone to a corn maze just outside of town. We got to the farm, and were traversing the maze (it was haunted) when a character with a fake chainsaw started chasing me. I screamed and jumped, and grabbed my friend’s arm, hoping for some comfort from a possible suitor. He looked at me, gently took his arm back and we proceeded through the maze in utter silence. 

When we returned to the dorm, we sat outside for a little bit talking. I had lit a smoke and asked him if I made him uncomfortable grabbing his arm in the maze. While I assumed the response would start out as “you’re great, but I don’t like you like that,” I was blown away when he simply replied, “You caught me off guard. I wasn’t uncomfortable, but there’s something you should know. I’m gay.”

BOOM. And so it begins.

What I said in response to that blew me away because the minute I said it, I felt like I had conquered the world. I replied, “I had no idea. Can I tell you a secret? I think I’m gay too.”

The moment those words escape, it’s like nothing you’ve ever experienced. If you’re gay, you know what I mean when I say that it’s like those words were specifically tailored to come out of your mouth. It gives you a new sense of confidence, but really only if it’s in the right atmosphere. 

When I came out to my sister, she said “tell me something I don’t know.” She said she had known for a while, and was waiting for me to figure it out. I admired her when she said that it didn’t matter to her and she loved me regardless. 

When I started to date women, the piece of the puzzle fit - I could sleep with a man, that wasn’t the issue. The problem was that for me, I couldn’t connect emotionally with a member of the opposite sex. I could never be fulfilled by a relationship with a man because I would never have the most intimate connection people in a relationship share - their thoughts, desires, fears, and emotions. That was what I needed, not sex. Not the thought that there were only “traditional” relationships. 

The only traditional relationship that exists is the one in which two people share love for one another regardless of sex, age, color, body type, religion, or any other feature that could be discriminated against. A traditional relationship is one in which two people can feel comfortable being their true selves, not an altered version. 

I know that there will be people who knew me in my church days, my days before church, my college days and beyond who don’t agree with what I say. When I tell you I didn’t choose, don’t act like I did. I know I am a woman of intelligence - I would NEVER willingly subject myself to criticism from people who don’t know me, subject myself to cruelty and ignorance, subject myself to harsh words and actions. 

And I can tell you that if I had never come out, never felt comfortable sharing that part of myself - I can’t guarantee that I would be alive today.   

If someone tells you they love you but will turn their backs when you ask them to fight for you - don’t spend another moment trying to make them love you. The article I read this morning is dead on - those people need to learn to love themselves. You are already stronger than they are because you knew the consequences and the chances taken by coming out - and you did it. That is strength, character and integrity all in one. And that is a quality I look for in the company I keep. 

My sister who welcomed my lifestyle with open arms gave birth 6 weeks ago to my nephew. Before he was born, her and her husband were packing up their condo to move it all to Denver. I had an idea to give my nephew something that is dear to me so he understands how much he is loved - I gave my sister and her husband my   pride flag. 

I didn’t give it to them so they could drill into his head that the rainbow is symbolic for the gay community and that his aunt is gay. I gave it to them with the knowledge that this would be a learning tool. When he gets old enough to ask what the rainbow flag is for, maybe I’ll get to have the honor of imparting that wisdom to him. 

It may be years from now, but what I will say will sound something like this: 

I’m not going to tell you some technical symbolism for this flag. I’m going to tell you what it means to me. I also will tell you what I want it to mean for you. There are all sorts of colors on this flag - and all of those colors are different. It’s just like you and me. I’m a girl - you’re a boy. I’m older, you’re younger. You get the point. And you may not realize it now - but difference is beautiful. It is a thing of beauty to see all sorts of different people. All of those different people come with a story - and all of those stories are different. You will hear things you haven’t before, and that is the beauty in life, something different around each corner. 

The colors are sewn together in a rainbow because in my community, we are all together. Difference united is a powerful thing - there are so many beliefs, ideas and wants that no day will be the same as the last. We are ourselves, but we are part of a big community - one that has wrapped us up in a great hug. Don’t spend your time with people who are just like you - do something different. Trust me, you will be amazed at the things you can learn. 

This has never been a symbol to you that you are gay or we want you to be gay. It’s not a choice. I didn’t choose this lifestyle, but I will be damned if I try to act like this lifestyle isn’t mine. It is where I belong, it is where I feel whole. And I want you to know that my goal for your life is for you to find where you belong and where you feel whole. This flag was to show you that again, difference is beautiful. This flag was to show you that love and acceptance are beautiful qualities to possess and that you should make your best efforts to accept those different from you, even if you don’t like them much. After all, would you like to spend your time with people who look, sound, and act exactly like you do? 

I love you. I always have and I always will. I love that we are alike in some ways and different in many. You are a beautiful soul, just like me - and you can feel whole with me. You can feel like you belong when you are with me. 

A lot of people may tell you that Jesus doesn’t like sinners. Don’t listen to them, pal. Jesus wanted to go to dinner with the sinners before he wanted to eat with those without sin. 

Jesus didn’t care about sins. He cared about making sure everyone felt loved. You don’t need a Bible to know what his message was: love one another as I have loved you. So please, please know that difference is beautiful, sin is natural and love can and will conquer all. 

Most people I know probably won’t read this. I might even have a few less Facebook friends after I post it - and so be it. I am now a role model to a young man who will look to his parents and myself for acceptance and love, both of which I am more than willing to give. When I was younger, I was led to believe that if I criticized someone and said it was “out of love,” it was justified. I was also led to believe that ignorance is bliss, which couldn’t be farther from the truth. I don’t need a book to tell me how to live, and I don’t need a building to talk to a man who I believe at one point in time existed in this life. I have faith - I don’t need physical representations of it. It’s not just faith in a higher power, it’s faith in people. 

And before you decide to tell me why you can’t/won’t/don’t love me - figure out why you can’t/won’t/don’t love yourself. 

she is an insurance adjustor, based on her voice she’s a smoker in her 60’s, and her name is my new pseudonym.

suck it, fuckers - it’s sassy, classy and trashy all at the same time and I couldn’t be more excited to embody it.

I am telling you that sometimes straight women wear the GAYEST footwear possible. I was sitting in the bathroom doin’ my biz and I happened to see the specimen walk into the stall next to mine.

The bitch was wearing wing tips. And I know that because hello, i’m fucking gay, and also because lesbians know men’s fashion possibly more than women’s fashion. Fact of life, you little Blair wannabes.

Don’t get me started on the name Blair.

Anyway, here’s the indication her shoes spoke to my type of people, I was JEALOUS of her shoes. If it wasn’t creepy to have “below the door” bathroom moments, I would have went thug harmonious on her ass and snatched them.

However, i’m a classy bitch and I kept my “shoe boner” hidden like a real fucking lady.

Breeders: clogs, trail shoes and wing tips belong to US. They are distinctive to our culture. Wait, you mean you don’t watch Ellen?

That lady is going to wish she gave me her shoes, I can only imagine what men think of her in her Florsheims.