I Refuse To Live In Fear

The Women's March on Washington was an amazing experience. Never before have I taken part in a protest or stand where there were so many people and the energy stayed in a place of peaceful power. The unity and solidarity was palpable. At least in my experience of it.

Writing about it, finding the words to give it justice, has been challenging. To say the least. I left with the intention of writing about it while experiencing it but, honestly, it was so overwhelming that it made it impossible for me to write about. Now as I sit here and try to put words together to explain my experience, I find that I'm still failing.

Perhaps it's partly because of the constant barrage of daily bad news. I'm finding that the overwhelm is not going away. It's just gone from one extreme to the other. I've spent today limiting my social media contact and trying to listen to music but I'm finding that I mostly just want to sit in silence. The overwhelm is already so distracting that it's difficult to find my baring.

Everything that I care about is being signed away, shut down and de-funded. Not only are they things I care about, they are things that are important to the lives of so many people in this country. Shutting down the EPA will affect every single living being on this planet. That may sound overstated to some, but it absolutely is true. What we do matters.

Never in my lifetime have I seen such division and hatred in this country. The day before the inauguration we stopped at a Peet's Coffee in downtown Washington D.C. where the barista told us that just the day before he saw members of the KKK walking down the street in their robes and hoods. How completely terrifying.

Reading the news and talking to other people about their experiences has had me living in fear. I've had people online tell me that I'm giving into the "fear mongering" which confuses the fuck out of me because aren't they reading the same news? It really is true that if it doesn't affect some people personally, they just don't care about it and they think others to be ridiculous for caring about it. I just don't understand it.

While away in DC I had a brief conversation with another woman who cuts her hair very short. I won't identify her as butch because I don't know that she identifies that way. She's been considering whether or not to continue to get her hair cut short (buzz) because she fears for the possible consequences. I told her that I was having that very same struggle. But, the more I thought about it, the angrier I got. I'll be damned if I will let someone run me back into the closet. I'll be damned if I will allow someone to make me live in fear.

I am a warrior. I've always been a warrior and I will always be a warrior. A peaceful warrior but one nonetheless. I will always be an example for others in my community. I lead by example. I will not live my life according to anyone else. I will always be authentically me. Short hair, boxers, men's clothes and all. I am butch. I am a masculine of center woman.

Hear me fucking roar.

Ye Olde Barber Shoppe

I've been living here in Ipswich, MA for the last year and a half and have been walking by the barber shop that's on the same street that I live on for just about as long. Every time I've passed it I've thought to myself, "I should stop in and see if they'd be willing to give me my usual cut." The next few thoughts after that would usually be of fear and I would talk myself out of even just stopping in to ask. After all, barber shops are a part of the "good ol' boys network", right?

Well, today I finally gathered up the nerve to stop in and ask. I've been using my own clippers at home and doing the basic 1" all around cut ever since I moved here and got rid of my car. It works out fine but every now and then I just need that boost that a butch gets with a freshly buzzed fade. Always start with a #1 blade.

Stepping into the shop was like stepping back in time. Old posters and signs lined the walls and the furnishings in the waiting area were old wooden chairs. The barber chairs were the old fashioned kind, too. When I walked in there was a customer in the chair already and a woman barber so I took a seat in one of the old wooden chairs. Fox News was on the television in the corner and when I tuned into the conversation, I realized how conservative it was. But, I didn't feel like it was so conservative that I needed to leave. Thankfully.

When the other customer left I asked the barber if she would be up for giving me a men's fade cut starting with a #1 and, thankfully, she didn't even bat an eye. We chatted a bit about the town after introducing ourselves to each other and in the end, I came out with one of the best fades I've had in a while. I think I'll go back again at least once before I move home.

Not bad for 46, eh?