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.
Returning from the Farmer's Market with a carrot top tail.
This morning I woke up with a sense of
sadness. I awoke to clouds and rain and cool air and the sound tires
make in the rain as the cars pass by beneath my window. I slept in
this morning after staying up late. I've been tired, yes, but this
tired today felt different. It felt a little like escape.
My weekend mornings are usually spent
leisurely drinking at least two cups of coffee while I read or
journal in bed. This morning as I sipped my first cup I felt it. The
sadness. The loneliness. It scared me so I finished my first cup,
took a shower and walked down to the farmer's market. I felt this
pull to run from it but at the same time I knew that taking it for a
walk would do it some good and it did. When I returned I continued to
find ways to get away from it, though. Escape, I recognize, is an old
pattern for me.
I cleaned while listening to a pod
cast. It was a Moth Slam that airs on NPR and sometimes those stories
stir up emotions and sometimes they inspire me to write or look at
things differently. Sometimes they just plain make me cry. I'm not
even sure what the story was about at this point but I remember
feeling the tears start to well up and the surge of emotions in my
chest. I had to stop the vacuum, sit down on the steps and let myself
cry for a moment. I let myself feel what I had been running from all
morning. I stopped trying to escape and just sat there with it all.
In my mind, I wrapped my arms around the emotions and myself. When I
did that I realized that it wasn't just sadness that I was feeling.
It was such a mix of happiness and sadness and homesickness and
gratitude and all the feelings.
I sat there on the steps with tears
rolling down my cheeks counting all of the blessings in my life.
I have a group of the most amazing
people in my life, both family and friends.
I have an abundance of love, the
size of which I've never before felt.
I have a real sense of belonging
and home that I've never before felt.
I live in a world where there is
beauty that stops me in my tracks and brings tears to my eyes.
I am healthy and getting stronger
every day.
I am so much more connected to my
body, my soul and my mind than I've ever been before.
The self growth I've done over these
past few years has brought so much peace, confidence and friendship
with myself. I am amazed at the amount of growth that I've
experienced, in awe and am so incredibly proud of myself.
It really is true that happiness begins
within yourself. I have become my own best friend, my own companion
and my own confidant and there is absolutely nothing sad about that.
It's reason to celebrate. The level of trust I have in myself to be
completely open and authentic and real with those around me has
skyrocketed.
Never before have I ever known myself
so well, been so in touch with and connected to my soul and what it
wants and needs.
Never before has my heart felt so
completely open to life and love and happiness. This...THIS is what
it feels like to live, to be fully present with myself and the world
around and inside of me. This is what it feels like to be able to sit
with the good and the hard feelings and emotions and to come out on
the other side of them a better me. A more compassionate,
understanding and loving me.
This life is amazing and full of
adventure. My heart is so full of gratitude and love.
I've been participating in a challenge that's been going around on Instagram and other social media and it's got me thinking about my own time spent in the USMC. The challenge is to do 22 push ups for 22 days to raise awareness for veteran's suffering from PTSD. Among our nation's veterans there are, on average, 22 suicides a day. Mental injuries are real.
Thankfully, I was spared being deployed during war time. I was called back for Desert Storm but spent my time "re-training" in North Carolina. By the time I was done the conflict was over. It wasn't easy being pulled away from my son, who was only 9 months old at the time, but I am grateful that I never made it into a combat area. I can't imagine how my 21 year old self would have handled a situation like that.
I enlisted in the Marine Corps because I was looking for a place in the world where I felt a sense of belonging. The idea of the camaraderie that comes with being in the military was very attractive to me at the time. Also, my family has a history of it's men being Marine's and I was most likely looking for approval and acceptance from them, as well.
Not fully knowing what I was getting into, I signed up for the 6 year plan. The advantages this gave me was the option to actually choose my MOS (my job) and I was guaranteed to graduate basic training as an E-2. I choose to be a basic diesel mechanic and after doing so well in basic training, I began my military career in the fleet as an E-3, a Lance Corporal. As a matter of fact, I graduated basic training as the #1 graduate out of about 100 women, or two platoons. That is the one thing I am most proud of in this experience.
I was one of those weird people who actually enjoyed boot camp. Well, after the anxiety and nerves cleared away, of course, which took a little bit. Getting used to being screamed at almost constantly is a bit of a challenge but at some point I finally saw the big picture and just started rolling with it. I am an observer and this was the trait that helped me the most because I would watch others make mistakes and I learned quickly from them.
That camaraderie I was looking for happened for me in boot camp. We were a team. All 50 of us worked together, helped each other, motivated each other and looked after each other. It was one of the most challenging and awesome experiences I've ever had in my life and I don't regret one single moment of it.
Sadly for me, the camaraderie ended when boot camp ended. When I got out into the fleet it was every Marine for her/himself. I attended basic mechanics school in North Carolina. It was myself and about 49 other guys. I worked hard, understood it all fairly easily and graduated #3 in that class. From there, I was stationed at Camp Pendleton in Oceanside, California.
I was sent to the First Maintenance Battalion and looked forward to getting my hands dirty and driving some Humvees. Those things are beasts. I loved learning to drive them through the muck, the mud and the water. Yes, the water. There was about 6 inches of water on the floor board of the one I drove at one point and it didn't even hiccup. Beasts. I loved these machines and couldn't wait to work on them.
Unfortunately, I would never get that chance. As soon as I arrived at the offices of the First Maintenance Battalion to check in, I was directed to a desk with a phone and a computer. Thinking it was just a matter of time before I got to the motor pool, I did what I was told. Several months later, which included several weeks of KP duty (kitchen prep/cleaning at the chow hall) I asked my CO for a meeting. In that meeting I told him about my desire to actually be in the motor pool working on the trucks, in my MOS. I explained how well I did in training and that I was ready.
What he said to me has stuck in my mind all these years. It was the first big disappointment with the military and I was clearly shown where my place was in it. His response to me was, "You don't want to work in the motor pool with all of those guys." I told him that with all due respect if I didn't I wouldn't have trained for it. It went in one ear and out the other.
My idea of the military was shattered. I gave up inside and just did what I needed to do. I ended up choosing to be honorably discharged when I became pregnant with my son. At that point, the thought of leaving him to do a year long tour overseas was just too unbearable and that's exactly what I was facing.
The month spent apart from him when he was 9 months old was heart wrenching. I remember calling home and talking to my then husband (nope, I'm not a gold star), listening to him tell me about my son waiting for me at the front window, clutching my robe. The tears poured down my cheeks. I hated every moment of it. But, I did it.
I'm thankful I had this experience in life. It taught me a lot of things not only about life but about myself. I'm also thankful I didn't have to endure any combat or dangerous situations. I have family members that have. My Grandfather served in World War II and Korea. He was a Marine paratrooper. My other Grandfather was a cook in the Marines. My uncle served 3 tours in Vietnam. I can't even begin to, nor would I want to even try to, understand what it was like for them. Growing up, I watched them try to deal with the aftermath. I heard stories of attempted suicide. One of them involved my toddler self walking in on one of them holding a gun to themselves. Thankfully, I have no recollection of it.
Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome is a real thing. Mental injuries are real and our veterans suffer from them day in and day out. Not only are our veterans suffering from it, their families and communities are suffering. It's only been recently that the US Government has finally begun to accept this fact. I wish they could have done it sooner before so many lives were lost.
Please, go check out the challenge and the program that started it all go to 22kill.com. Join in on the challenge, as well.
I feel like these past few weeks have been a bit surreal. This book, this project that I've been pouring my heart and soul into over the past couple of years is/has become a reality. I signed a publishing contract this past October and the release date for the book is December 15th.
I haven't held a copy of it in my hands yet but, somehow, a friend of mine who ordered it from Amazon has already received his copy. When I saw the photos he posted of him holding the book I started crying. Tears of joy. Tears of release. Tears of "holy shit, it's happening, it's really happening".
My publisher is working out the details of the release party and I am anticipating the first copies of the book to be delivered soon so I can finally hold a copy in my hands. The photographer in me will closely look at every photograph to be sure they all turned out the way I had envisioned them. The writer in me will carefully re-read every word (for the 20th time) to be sure all of the typos have been caught. Even though I know there's no fixing things at this point.
Most of all, I will look at that book in my hands and see my dream come to life. This book is my heart. Everyone who holds a copy of it in their hands will be holding my heart. If that's not vulnerability for you, then I don't know what is.
I am incredibly grateful to everyone who participated, stood in front of my camera, took the time to meet with me and answer all of the questions I sent to them, freely gave their hard earned money, and to those who supported me with encouragement, love and support. None of this could have happened without each and every one of you. Thank you.
As I sit here this morning reading through the blog posts from last year I can't help but feel blessed and amazed. We did it. We fucking did it.
So, here are a few ways to get a copy of this book:
Also, come to the release party here in Portland, Oregon on Monday, December 15th at 7:30pm at the American Legion Hall at NE 21st & NE Alberta and get a copy. I'll sign it and give you a great big hug. Plus, there will be food! Here's the Facebook Event page: https://www.facebook.com/events/399674273532075/?ref_dashboard_filter=upcoming
My past two weekends in New York City
were amazing, to say the least. The weekend before this was my first
visit to the Big Apple and all I can say is, wow. The energy in the
city is incredible. Even on a rainy Saturday.
I spent the weekend with my friends,
Syd, who is also my mentor in the world of photography, and her
partner Jay, who is what I would call an LGBTQI community elder. Jay
was at Stonewall when riots started. The weekend was filled with lots
of stories about our community history in and around NYC and, of
course, lots of talk about photography and the business of it.
I arrived Friday afternoon very excited
yet tired from the 5 hour drive from North Shore Massachusetts. Syd
and I spent the evening talking about photography, making (well, I
mostly happily consumed) good food and playing with their cats. Since
I was pretty tired from the drive and it was pretty cold outside, we
decided to change our plans and go out to the Brooklyn Bridge on
Saturday night. I was very sure that I really just wanted to enjoy
the time with Syd and Jay and not fill the weekend too full to the
point of overwhelm so we made tentative plans and just played it by
ear. There were two things I really wanted to do that weekend and
that was to go to Stonewall and to feel my camera in my hand again.
It felt so good to have the camera in
my hand again. As good as taking a really deep, cleansing breath. It
reminded me how much I need to do this every day.
On Saturday we roamed around downtown
in the rain doing our best to protect our cameras with plastic bags
and rubber bands, which made it hard to shoot but I was still happy
to be shooting. After walking the High Line we ventured into the
Steven Kasher Gallery where Jerome Leibling's collection “Matter ofLife and Death” was exhibiting. If you ever have a change to see a
photographic exhibit, I highly recommend that you go. Seeing the
images in print has such a huge impact. Much more so than seeing them
digitally online.
In front of The Stonewall Inn. Photo by Syd London.
After the gallery we made our way to
The Stonewall Inn. Seeing it for the first time, there right in front
of me, was surreal. I had read so much about what happened and saw
photographs of the place both then and now, but I think that in my
mind it was always this mystical place that only existed in our
history. I was in awe, to be perfectly honest. So much history, so
much courage, so much strength all happened right there in that
place. I stood there thanking those who fought before me so that I
could walk freely in this world and be my authentic self. It was
truly an amazing experience.
Working in the studio
Since Syd and I had been walking around
in the rain most of the day, we both decided it would be much better
to head back to her apartment in Brooklyn to dry out and warm up so I
still have the Brooklyn Bridge on my list of things to see. It gives
me yet another reason to return for a visit. After warming up and getting some food in our bellies, I spent the evening
getting some much needed alone time with my camera in Syd's studio
working on a personal project.
On Sunday I asked Syd to come with me
on a project shoot I had arranged with a participant that lives in
the Upper East Side of NYC. The participant had made arrangements for
us to go up on her building's roof top for the shoot and I was crazy
excited about it. When we arrived the landlord had locked the roof
top door so we did what any normal group of photographers would do.
We snuck up to the roof top through the building next door! It was
awesome and so fun. We were all giggling and whispering as we climbed
the flights of stairs and were so happy when we reached the top to
find the doors unlocked. We had a great time up there shooting and
the weather was kind enough to hold out for us!
Here is one of the shots from that roof top shoot:
Beautiful power.
By the way, the woman who I
photographed on the roof top is also working on a photo project
titled Leather Women. It's a beautiful project. You should check it
out.
She also photographed me while we were up there. I love the way the photograph turned out. It makes me feel strong and powerful. Almost as if I'm about to take on the Big Apple.
Photo by Carmelle La Sirena.
After the shoot, Syd took me to see
Grand Central Station, which was....wow. Incredibly grand. There is
so much beauty in the architecture. I fell in love with all of the
old buildings in NYC.
Yesterday I was lucky enough to return
to the Big Apple. This time with my sister and her partner. They took
me to see my first Broadway play and they couldn't have picked a
better play for my first experience. It was Cyndi Lauper's KinkyBoots. If you get the opportunity to see this production, GO SEE THIS
PRODUCTION! It is awesome! We had such a blast!
Afterwards we walked through Times
Square then stopped in a Celtic pub for a Guinness and some food
before heading back to Grand Central Station to catch the train back
to Connecticut. It was such a great day full of laughter and great
conversations.
I am so grateful to have had these
experiences. At one point during my visit with Syd and Jay I remember
stepping out of the shower and standing there in their bathroom for a
moment thinking, “Who would have ever thought that I would be
standing in a bathroom in a Brooklyn apartment where my friends live.
In Brooklyn. New York.” Then yesterday, as I sat down in the
theater, I thought the same sort of thing. It was so surreal. I've
read about and seen so many photographs of people visiting this city
and doing the things that I was doing but never in my life did I
think that person would ever be me.
When I stop to take an assessment of my
life and what I've done in the last year, it's almost like I'm seeing
someone else's life. It's so hard for me to believe all that has happened in the past year. I am humbled by it all. Humbled
and so very grateful.
Back in 2001 while I was attending Southern Oregon University in Ashland, Oregon I took a women's studies class that focused on women in the media. Up until that point in my life I had always felt completely frustrated over the fact that I wasn't seen as an equal to the men around me. I felt looked down upon and never truly understood it.
Then I took that class. That class brought to light every frustration I had ever felt and helped me to see the source of that frustration. From that point on, I was able to point out every sexist and degrading image of women in any television show, music video, movie or advertisement. It was incredibly difficult for me to see. So much so that I stopped watching television and mostly stopped going to see movies. It affected me on such a deep level.
Right now on Netflix (which is the only place I watch programs at the moment) there is a documentary that completely sums up all of the things I learned in that class at SOU. I highly recommend watching it. Take the hour and a half out of your day or night and watch it completely. Read the facts they put up on the screen. Try not to multitask while you watch this film. Simply sit and watch it like it's the only thing you have to do during that hour and a half. You will learn so much and your eyes will open so wide.
The name of the film is Miss Representation. Please click on the link to watch the trailer or just go to your Netflix account, look it up then click on Play. Watch it through the end in it's entirety because at the end they tell you how you can help make a change. What you can do in your every day life to turn this around.
More women need to write their stories. If you've been putting it off, now is a good time to start.
"May we all make empowering other women and girls a priority."
Saturday, August 17th was a day I will
never forget. In the morning, I met one of the photographers who has
inspired me the most in the world of photography, Syd London. She is
an amazing photo journalist based in Brooklyn, New York. I've been
following her work for the last couple of years and it has influenced
mine in so many ways. Story telling through photographs is such a
powerful tool.
After meeting Syd, I had the honor of
helping her during the shoot of her life. I can't go in to details
about it just yet because it's a secret that won't be revealed for
another couple of weeks, but it's huge. Being a part of that shoot
and watching Syd work was an incredible honor.
Prior to the weekend, Syd emailed me to
ask if I would assist her with the shoot. As we were heading back to
the hotel after the shoot, Syd told me that she hasn't ever asked
someone whom she hasn't ever met to assist her on a shoot. The energy
of the people involved in the shoot has to be just right in order to
get the shot, so it's important that you know who is helping you and
what sort of energy they're bringing to the space. She said she never
questioned whether or not I would bring the right energy and that if
I wasn't available, there wasn't anyone else she would ask. I can't
even begin to explain how much that meant to me.
In the afternoon, we both sat on a
panel of photographers at the Butch Voices conference. There were
four of us there and I have to say, I felt like the “youngest” in
terms of experience. It was good to hear that some of the other
photographers don't have a scholarly background in photography,
though. I think a lot of us are self taught and those of us with the
passion for it have the craving to learn it on our own. Besides, an
education in photography is incredibly expensive. It's very rare that
a photographer does well enough to be able to afford all of the loans
associated with school. But, I digress. There was a question I
answered that the moderator imposed that made me feel very “young”
amongst the others. She asked me what other major projects I've done.
I was honest and said this was my first. I think that, in a way, that
answer surprised me as well as others. But, really, when it comes
down to it, everyone has to start somewhere.
After the panel I received some really
good feedback from people in the audience and from Syd. All of them
said I did a good job and was articulate. I even handled a couple of
situations that may have shut me down in the past. I simply refused
to give that person any power over me and continued as if it didn't
affect me. I won't go into details because, well, I still refuse to
allow that person to have any power over me.
This day was also incredibly special
and unforgettable because I had the honor of not only meeting two of
my community elders who were there when our fight for equality began
at Stonewall, I also got to hear them talk about those days. I
listened to our history as told by the experiences of Jay Toole and
Miss Major and it as incredible. If you don't know who these amazing
LGBTQI elders are, please click on their names and do some research.
Miss Major was at Stonewall that night when the fight began. Jay was
4 blocks away but made her way down to help with the fight. They have
been leaders in the fight for transgender rights and economic justice
for the people in our community for over 40 years. Their stories are
stories of those forgotten in our movement.
The experiences of the day were life
changing for me. Meeting one of my inspirations as a photographer,
assisting her on a shoot, speaking with her on a panel, hearing her
tell me that my work is good and meeting two of my community elders
who were there, at Stonewall, when it all began were all amazing
gifts. My heart is so full of gratitude.
"It is not the critic who counts; not the man who
points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds
could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is
actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and
blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and
again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but
who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms,
the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at
the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who
at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so
that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who
neither know victory nor defeat." - Theodore Roosevelt
Yesterday, I finally sat down and made
my itinerary to travel to the Rockies, the Midwest and the Northern
East coast for the project. This morning, I feel a million times
lighter. Not that I don't have more planning to do, fundraising as
well, but at least this part of it is done. It's been weighing
heavily on my mind. I also made plans to travel to Texas and
Louisiana. I still need to make plans to travel to North Dakota,
Pennsylvania, Virginia, South Carolina, Florida, Southern California,
Arizona and New Mexico. I'm also quickly discovering that it's going
to take quite a bit more money to do it all. I'll have to work on
that or find other ways to get photos of those whom I can't get to.
I am so lucky to have the support of my
partner through all of this. I spend the majority of my time, away
from work, working on this project. Last night she sat down at the
table where I was working and said, “Do you know how much I love
you?” I asked her if all of my time spent working on the project
was driving her crazy. She said no. She loved me even more for
working on the project because it makes me happy. She can see what it
does to me. The project truly is a labor of love for me. It came from
and continues to come from my heart.
The support I've gotten for the project
has been mind blowing to me. Messages like this one represent the
“mind blowing” I'm talking about:
“Your project moved me to tears. I
wanted to say thank you for doing something like this- something to
capture what is so rarely seen. As a sociologist, my own background
has been LGBT (and all other acronyms) focused - primarily on
self-esteem, perceived social acceptance, and coming out. As a
lesbian, my research has been intended to highlight the importance of
coming out and acceptance. Your photographs are worth more than my
thousands of words.”
I can't even begin to find the words to
express exactly how much stuff like this means to me. See? Mind.
Blowing.
It's affecting people in ways I hadn't
even thought about. Good ways. Ways that help others and that's the
goal of this project. To help others see that they are not alone in
this world. To put faces to the words and identities and to show that
there are an endless amount of identities in the world and in our
community.
Yes, bottom line is that we are all
human, but we're not all the same. We are all unique individuals with
our own expressions, identities and ways of being in the world. Let's
celebrate everyone! Let's celebrate the fact that you can choose to
not be “put in a box with a label” or you can choose to be put in
as many boxes as you want with as many labels as you want.
I look forward to a world where
everyone is equal but I also look forward to a world where everyone
is celebrated. A world where we can all truly be free to be exactly
who we are.
When I awoke yesterday and checked my email on my phone I found that there were a few new backers to the Kickstarter project and that there was still quite a ways to go. I felt sad for a moment but then reminded myself that, hey, it raised over $6,000. That's nothing to sneeze at. Plus, it's gotten a lot of media attention. There's always a plan B and both of those things will help with plan B. Still, I wasn't going to give up on the Kickstarter itself until the clock had ticked down, ending the campaign. It still had 6 hours to go and anything could happen in the span of those hours.
So, I got up and did my normal Friday morning routine while trying to take my mind off of it for a bit. Put on my swim suit and headed to the community center pool. Swimming has become a form of meditation, as well as exercise, for me.
When I returned home I checked my email again. Still no luck. More gentle reminders to myself.
Going about my morning, I took a shower, boiled a couple of eggs, made a piece of toast and a cup of coffee then sat down to eat. After breakfast, I looked at my phone again. The email from Kickstarter hit my inbox at 8:30am. It was shortly after that time when I opened it and read that one of the backers had increased her pledge from $100 to $3,300 and that "$10,061.01
is currently pledged toward the
$10,000.00
goal." I had to re-read it to be sure I wasn't reading it incorrectly because I just couldn't believe it.
Then my phone started buzzing with text messages and Facebook notifications. I had to sit down and open my laptop to look at the email again. Then the Kickstarter page. It was incredibly difficult to convince myself that it did, indeed, just happen. My project fundraiser had reached it goal. It was going to happen. It was going to fund. I was really going to be able to travel and photograph and document and do my heart's work.
Then it hit me and the tears started flowing. Tears of joy. I must have cried for close to an hour while responding to everyone's text messages and Facebook posts and posting on Facebook and Kickstarter my sincere gratitude to everyone who is helping me along this journey. At this point, I feel like I can't say "Thank you!" enough.
Thank you for believing in me. Thank you for supporting me. Thank you for believing in and supporting this project that I hold so dear to my heart. I am so excited to take this journey and create a beautiful piece of art for all to enjoy.
As one of my very wise and wonderful friends said to me yesterday via text message, "When you do your heart's work, the Universe steps up." It most certainly has and in a very big way. My heart swells with gratitude today.
I stumbled upon this amazingly brilliant photo project that is similar to mine but on a much larger and grander scale. It's incredibly beautiful and it's happening all across the U.S. Take 18 minutes to watch this video then check out the web site. It has me in tears from the beauty of it.
My project may not get funded but this one is and it's happening and it's tremendously important so donate if you can.
I've put it together, submitted it for approval with the Kickstarter folks and now it's live! Check it out!
For the next 30 days I'm going to be sharing it with as many people as possible and I hope you'll help me out with that. It would be amazing to make this dream a reality. Will you help? Here's the link. Just copy and paste in Facebook, Twitter, Google+ and email!
This past weekend was Pride weekend
here in Portland. I had a lot of mixed feelings about it this year.
Last year I choose not to participate in it at all because it's been
the same pretty much every year. Lots of dance parties at bars, lots
of drinking, a festival with the same vendors and lots of
entertainment yet no speakers who talked about our history, and a
parade that seemed to always have the same contingents. Business
after business, which made it feel like a really big advertisement.
To say that I was disappointed would have been an understatement.
This year, I felt the same way about
it. It feels to me as if we've lost our history and that saddens me.
Pride celebrations began in order to commemorate the riots at the
Stonewall Inn. Our fight to be open and have communities started on
June 26, 1969. How many of the younger folks in our community know
the history of our struggle to be open about who we are?
My first Pride experience after I came
out was in San Diego, California. The Pride weekend kicked off with a
rally Friday night where speakers talked about our history and our
struggle and where we needed to focus our fight for rights next. It
was my first exposure to our history and I remember feeling very
proud to be a part of my community. It was the first time I felt
proud to be gay.
It seems as Pride has lost it's
history, true meaning and purpose these days. Corporate sponsorships
have taken over and turned it into one large advertisement. While
it's good to know which businesses support our community so our
community can support them, it's also good to remember why we have
Pride marches (yes, marches not parades), Dyke marches and Pride
celebrations.
There are some good internet sites that
have great articles about the history of our struggle to be out and
proud. Please take the time to read them. Everyone, gay and straight,
should know this history. The Gendershift Blog has a great article
about Stonewall. Also, in June of 2008 there was a panel of speakers
who were all there at the Stonewall riots. The videos from that panel
are here. Please take the time to watch them and listen to their
stories. It's so important to know this history and why we celebrate
Pride.
I almost didn't attend Pride again this
year. I debated with myself about it all week last week and even
posted a question on facebook to all of my friends asking why they do
or don't do Pride. Most of the answers agreed with what I was
feeling. They felt that it didn't represent them and that the history
of why we celebrate is lost in the drunken debauchery that ensues
over the weekend. But then someone posted a link to this article
where the writer talked about various strands of the community
showing up to one place and how it reminded him that he's part of a
larger community.
After reading this article and thinking
about this perspective I had a change of heart. At the last minute, I
decided to hop on my motorcycle and ride with Dykes on Bikes in the
parade. No matter how I feel about any other part of Pride, I still
believe in what Dykes on Bikes stand for and am still proud to lead
the Pride march because of it. I can be who I am in the world because
of those butches and drag queens who fought for me back in 1969 and
since then. Yesterday, I rode in honor of them and as a way of
thanking them.
In the end, I am so glad I made that
last minute decision. My heart is filled with so much gratitude.
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