Don't Make Me Over Now That You Know....

The labels. No matter how much I try to move conversations away from labels, I come back to the same place--What do you define yourself as? Who is the man in your relationship.

These heteronormative labels don't really fit me or any of my friends, and yet we often find ourselves interacting with gay and straight people who feel the need to place us in metaphorical boxes. Here's a few examples:

Janet and Lisa are both feminine in that they wear lip gloss, dress feminine and are perceived as girly. When they go out, no one really knows they are a couple. One day they are visiting a mutual friend whose brother says, "They both look like girls. Which one is the man?"

Carrie looks androgynous. She's a mixture of butch glamour and tomboy sophistication. She is multi faceted and likes pedicures and cologne. When she meets women, they insist that she 'butch it up', wear the pants (literally and symbolically. She is just trying to be herself.

These two scenarios are not that random. Members of the community have always struggled with being defined by outsiders and now fight with definitions from within. The need to define oneself as a stud, femme, butch, AG was often a product of creating an understanding for straight people who defined us as "others". Even in claiming a label, what does that say? If I am femme, does that mean I can't be a top? If I am a butch, does that mean that I don't cook, can't/don't want to submit?

In the end, we have to come to our own understanding of how these labels work. But don't put us in another closet.

A Response to the Effects of Prop 8

It’s painful
Not miss Jane Pittman working in the fields among collard greens and cotton painful
But still its painful
These wars that we have to fight while others set there silently
Through the emotional violence
They sit there in their privilege and mink coats
While the hypocrisy chokes
My imagination
I have lost my imagination and sometimes my fascination with settling down becomes blurry
Sick of carrying this multicolored Gucchi cross on my back
With each, “Why do you….?”
I grow weary
When all I want to do is lay in your arms
Come home to you
Take care of you
How the hell is that wrong?
See this is much deeper than some trendy song where so chick who’s into penis envy
Sings about her indiscretions
Everything but the burden
Sometimes in the middle of the night I cry silently about the weight that we carry
On our undaground railroad
As we move underground in muted whispers so that nobody knows
The way I touch your body, worship your body…and captivated by your body
Our politics are personal
And what we do is personal
And yet…it still can be painful
And create resentment
Incomprehension
From ignorant and closed minded folks
But maybe their ignorance is blissful and a blessing
Not knowing what this love feels like
Not knowing what feeling denied is like
Maybe their incomprehension is the one thing that allows them to love
Breathe this stagnant air
And walk through this fog
That I have to navigate through
Wounded
Broken
Bleeding
Until I can touch you
Grab you
Claim my own American dream
This will continue to be….
Just a tad bit
painful.

The Floorboard

Faded spots on empty walls
filled with former memories
haunt her
Remind her of love lost/placed on hold
for this moment
This hour
This day
This visit
Her reality while formally filled with love, and warmth touching
Kissing tongues, brown hands fumbling for belt loops and bra straps
Are replaced with impartiality where she plays the role
Passing like quadroons, octoroons and mulattoes
During turbulent times when being a negro was considered dangerous and undesirable
Similar to how being gay or being "outed" must feel to her now
Must feel like a choking sensation in her throatYou know the feeling of being the most invisible/visible person around
Going through this second adolescence
Getting accustomed to new sounds
New feelings
Preparing herself for the reality that this lesbian shit right here is real
Even though she doesn't relate to shirtless dykes strapped up in marches and baby butches passing for bois…she understands what it means to love a woman
Or rather to love me
Cause lately she's made it a point to reiterate how much she loves me
Wants me
Honors me
Gives salutations
In celebration ofL-O-V-E
Can conquer all things
Can be all things
Is unconditional…
But yet it can't seem to solve quell your fears and trepidation
Hesitation that she must feel when
People ask questions like"Is that your girl? Who's your girl?"
The double layered meaning doesn't soaks into her skin or cerebellum like mine
but floats over her like clouds in the sky
her crown is clouded by L-O-V-E
while I remain grounded
confounded by this situationand my reality
Dressed in camouflage
Subtlety...but nonetheless dressed in full pageantry
The reverse of drag
I go inward/walk backwards all in the name of piece
She found me
Love found me
But now I'm trying to find me
Or rather hold on to the definition that it has taken me ten years to create/define/evolve
Past these seven letters or caricatures of what we look like
Should be likeI have moved beyond it
In addition to the fact that her and my mutual femininity complete with clutch handbags and lip gloss
Hide the fact that we could be/should be with men I've accepted it
But has she?
Maybe that's it
This hetero normative thing makes this particular situation scary
It was scary for me too
So it's not like I don't understandAnd yet….my bitter(sweetness) grows Seeps into my heart daily
Enhanced by the fact that to most I am just her friend
This whimsical friend that appeared from who knows where
Involuntarily deceit
Because of potential persecutionBecause of potential rejection
Because it's not the right timeAs we go over our timeline for having babies
Creating savings, bonds and joint property
Playing Dyke{nolpoly)
Bypass COMING OUT, collect your wife and build a home
Is what you must be thinking
Planning this simple life while I pull the curtains back from windows hoping that one day she will come out the closet
Pull up the floorboards and realize that everyone already knows

BGP

As summertime approaches, we are reminded that the Gap Pride season has drawn near. For the green leaves Gay Pride and its more politically incorrect cousin, Black Gay Pride is perhaps one of the most defining moments in the life of a LGBTQ person. While, most gay people are attracted to the numerous parties and Mardi Gras type events, there are also numerous workshops, film festivals and networking type activities. But then again, the more cultural events are not the reason that thousands of people flock to Miami, New York, DC, Los Angeles and Atlanta. Nah…for the eighty percentile, they are coming to “Set it Off” and let their colors shine.

For those lesbians and gays of color who are able to travel to a black gay pride. It is an amazing event to behold. The media’s portrayal of the community as being racially homogenous is contradicted when one attends any of these events and witnesses the "kids" in living color. This weekend, we had a chance to attend one of the greatest shows on earth….Atlanta’s Black Gay Pride. Before we give a critique or summarize pride, let present a side note on The Runway which is Hartsfield-Jackson Airport.

Flying into the airport is one of the first events one must experience to truly appreciate BGP. The queens and drag kings are abundant and ever present walking with just enough swagger and flair to catch attention from the onlookers. While Atlanta has been known as a haven for black folks and family for the past two decades, Labor Day Weekend intensifies the presence of these individuals. The multicolored uniforms of Gays-R-Us sprinkle the airport as people meet to form their crews for the weekend. One can entertain themselves by just sitting in the various concourses and watch the dynamic, if not dram tic folks unboard the plane talking loud and fever pitch about the weekends activities. If this doesn't tickle your funny bone, then perhaps the shocked look of over bible based onlookers covering their kids eyes with flush cheeks will make you smirk. At the baggage claim, you will see the fabalous gay men with their matching luggage and Marc Jacobs sunglasses, while the his and her lesbians pair off and greet their friends with bear grunts and daps. Welcome to the show (more to come)

Greenleaves (More than vegetation)

Similar to a plant, greenleaves are new to the life. They come to us via girl crushes, bitterness towards men, latent homosexuality or they just outgrow doing men. Most greenleaves are heavily in the closet (even when everyone already knows). You may or may not be able to visually identify them as they don't associate with to many other lesbians or attend gay events. They may be single or heavily involved. They agree normally in stage two of Coming Out (steps to be defined later). Black girls who are greenleaves are a bit different then their white counterparts. Remember, we were normally raised in the "church" and were taught to be conservative. So greenleaves often experience a 2nd adolescence where they discover themselves. For most seasoned lesbians, dating or committing to a greenleaf could be problematic (after all, it is up too you to help the greenleaves flourish into a beautiful prism of color). But forced with choosing a greenleaves or Banana, most would opt for the former.

This is the end of the world as you know it...

So...you figured that you like...ya know girls. That's cool. It's widely accepted that gays are tres chic. I mean Portia and Ellen just got married and they have a full spread on the cover of People Magazine! Latifah and anonymous female companion are adopting. So you my dear are in style! Right....

Hmmm....well it's a little more difficult than that. You are a brown girl. A woman of color and being a les...shall I spell out the rest of the world is problematic. So this blog is a first aide kit, joke book and how to guide of how to make it through the life. We don't know everything, but we have heard everything. ENJOY!