I want to start a new series on the blog. One I think is very important and would open up channels of communication for many people. I want to try, in my own little way, to help people understand a little more about things and people they would not have otherwise engaged with or considered.
Some topics will be fairly common, but I guess bringing them up is more about my wanting to drive a few points home and speak to and against some very important issues.
I don’t claim to know it all; I’m probably a very vocal advocate for the “Help me learn more association”. I can be very ignorant, but that’s only because I don’t know any better. This is in no way exhaustive or from a professional.
These questions are a mere reflection on my past encounters and wanderings and they touch on a few questions I’ve been asked or have overheard people asking.
I have to admit, some of these questions I asked my LGBTQI friends as well, but I was curious and needed to be educated. Now that I know, some parts, I can share some of what I’ve been taught.
Here we go…
How do you reconcile your faith with your liberal views on homosexual acceptance?
I personally don’t think there’s anything to reconcile. The Bible preaches love, quite vocally might I add, and as a Christian man I understand that God is Love and we have been commanded to love. In my heart, I believe that God in His entirety supersedes any views expressed by a disciple who was a mere man who lived in a time that was very intolerant of many things. I don’t believe that accepting someone for who they are and how they were created is in any way a defiant stand against God or a slight against my faith, nor is it treason. It’s saying “I accept you because you are as you were intended to be”. I don’t think God would make a mistake.
Would you be happy if you son turned out to be gay?
I would be happy if my son was healthy, happy and in love and if he was successful and a good young man. I would be afraid, for his life, because we live in a world that isn’t very accepting and someone might see his existence as an insult to him in some way and the only way for him to move forward or express himself would be if he hurt my son. Because of that, I would worry about him being safe and I would probably want to protect and shelter him even more because of that. That would be unhealthy for him, by the way, but he would be my baby and I would do everything in my power to make sure that no harm comes to him. But I would raise him up, every day and I would tell him that he needs to be better than the best and he needs to be excellent because not everybody will have his best interest at heart. He needs to be strong and grow up pretty fast, but I would love him either way.
Why should there be gay pride, why not have straight pride?
Without wanting to repeat the old and worn out but still very true response, but having to; every day is straight pride. It’s like saying “All lives matter” in a way. This is in no way equating the two situations, but for context.
Every day is straight pride. Every Sunday is straight appreciation day in every church. Pride isn’t a message to say the LGBTQI community places one orientation over another, it’s saying “The prejudice needs to come to an end”, “the hate crimes need to come to an end”, “we need to live in a world that values our lives and stories and dreams just as much as it values the lives and dreams of every other human on the planet”. Pride is not an agenda to push “the gay way”, it’s not propaganda, it’s lifting up a community that’s been downtrodden for centuries, it’s lifting the stigma off something that should have never had it to begin with. It’s a proud call to action for an equal chance at freedom. Straight pride would honestly be redundant.
Isn’t it a choice though?
The choice is when someone chooses whether or not to come out to the world as who they are or not. The choice is in how their families react to their sons and daughters finally expressing their truths. Being is existing is breathing is not choosing. That is what people need to understand.
Nobody in their right mind would choose to be persona non grata, nobody would choose to be hated, the poster child for all things anti-god and nobody I know would choose hell over heaven and all its glossy splendour.
But who is the guy and who is the girl?
In a lesbian relationship, both are meant to be the girl. I mean that’s the whole point. Just as in a gay relationship, both are meant to be the guy. People want to reconcile their idea of sex, heterosexual sex, with that of what they picture homosexual sex (should) entail. Thing is, homosexual and heterosexual sex is both fundamentally different and not that different at all.
The rolls change and some are rigid, in homosexual sex. The boxes so conveniently created for those who live in a world of binaries are Top and bottom. The specifics you can google (at your own risk), but I’d argue that those are the answer to what someone would want to know as being “the man” and “the woman”. Sex is inherently fluid and very complicated. You can’t limit it to two simple roles.
Don’t you think that kids nowadays just want to be different and are all about experimenting with everything, including being transgender and bisexual? Aren’t they just confused?
Firstly, you could say that there is an element of confusion there, just not in who they are. The confusion is in trying to express their truths in a world that refuses to recognise them. Imagine living in a world where being LGBTQI was what was traditionally accepted and being straight was “taboo” or “the big evil”. And babies arrived by stork. Now imagine being straight, and knowing that you were born straight, but you don’t know how to express that or fit into a world not moulded for you. Gender identity has been a muted crisis for centuries, people aren’t suddenly choosing to be transgender because they’re “experimenting”, they’re choosing to be open about their truths now because they feel a change in the ether. They feel more accepted now. It’s still a long way to go, but it’s going somewhere.
How can this be something beautiful and about love if all we ever see it as and hear about is the sex?
Perception is a unique affliction. What one sees another cannot wholly echo. Not to go all conspiracy theory on everyone, but in a world where same sex love is so taboo, would you expect anything but the sordid to be expressed as propaganda? With that said, sex is a very natural and beautiful way of expressing so many emotions; love, lust, longing, etc.
But think about this; if you were too afraid to love freely and openly and show your affection for someone every day, twenty-four hours a day for fear of retaliation, and all you could do was lay in wait, bottling up your emotions, holding back. In those few minutes, maybe an hour or two, of freedom with someone like-minded, would you spend that time playing scrabble or would you want to feed your hunger for connection.
We aren’t meant to be solitary beings. We’re sentient, social and sexual creatures that need human contact to survive…literally, by way of reproduction, but to also feel connected and not go feral. Many in the LGBTQI community are stealing moments; what little time they have, they use to fill themselves before winter comes again and they have to lay in wait for the next brief moment of freedom.
This is a very important and very extensive topic and discussion that I have not been able to do justice to. So much more needs to be asked and answered. The more people learn, the more they understand and the less they feel…phobic. We’re a world hungry for answers. Let’s be a world prepared to accept them.
Feel free to comment and or ask anything. This is as much my forum as it is yours.
Today we will be yellow.
We will walk with the Sun on our heals, healing and living and laughing with little care of the cracks on the pavement and the gunshots behind us.
We will be blind and buoyant and beautiful, dancing with fallen leaves, flirting with death and enjoying the rhythms and rhymes that crescendo with the howling wind; the screams behind street corners, the heartbeats gunned down in broad daylight, the futures massacred.
Today we will create a symphony like none other, it will be new and it will be timeless and it will burn through the ghetto like the cries of fatherless children, brotherless sisters and loveless protectors.
We will show mercy, we will chant it until our throats run raw, until our breaths wane and until we are forgotten and yet remembered because we were yellow.
We were and will forever be, gold, magic, perfect, joyous, here.
I’m not sure how true this may be, nor am I certain there’s a study or a science that could back this possibly careles claim, but i think that we need depression to survive.
So I might have baited you with that one, but what I mean is that the creative spirit needs something akin to pain to thrive…in a weird way. Don’t get me wrong, happy is good, and happy is productive and light and laughter and great, but there’s a freedom that comes with the darkness.
In my mind, there’s significance in the idea that God himself created from nothing, that the darkness was His canvas.
So maybe i’m just trying to justify my process; one that involves the sombre melodies of Adele, Ed Sheeran, Kwabs and Florence + the machine to name but a few. Maybe i’m trying to hide behind one evil to vindicate another; that hurting feeds me and makes me feel…good.
Good is a bad word, it makes me feel, alive.
Being happy makes me happy, but i know that happiness is just one side of the coin, a few colours within the spectrum and those colours don’t interest me. I work best when the canvas is blank and the colours are barely that. That way the creation speaks for itself, without the distraction from those darn bountiful, buoyant hues.
My sister once said it wasn’t healthy, and she’s right. But we can’t deny the power pain has in igniting the soul.
And those are just two examples, albeit not enough to sway the mind and convince you that i’m right, but i’m not here to prove that i am. I’m probably very wrong.
What I am here to do, is to help you understand that if, like me, you find secret solace in your pain and it helps move you and inspire you, don’t be afraid.
You aren’t alone.
I was the kid that painted with the colour black, i love wearing Brown and grey and i’m fine with it. You should be too. Sure it might mean you’re weird, but who isn’t?
To those of you who’re foaming at the mouth, eager to protest my views, i love the Sun too, butterflies make me smile and laughter fills me in ways I couldn’t possibly begin to explain.
Like I said, it’s a wide spectrum, so feel free to pick your poison.
How do you guys do it?
Okay so maybe I’m asking the wrong question here. What I really want to know is how you keep it; how you don’t let it slip through your fingers; how you’re able to let it burn long enough to get through the trenches and how you ignite it when you need it?
Yes, I said “trenches”, because it feels like war, and no I’m not referring to any relationship, although you could see it that way. The give and take exists, the love and hate, the good times, the joy, the heartbreak, it’s all there. So yeah, I guess you can look at the dynamic between yourself and inspiration as a relationship.
But yes, I’m talking about inspiration.
It used to be easy; I’d stumble across a wayward thought, I fragment of an idea and I’d expand on it like turning water into wine or breaking bread for the masses. I don’t mean to compare myself to Jesus, but when you’re in it, when your head’s glued to that screen, when those words flow through you like the rivers of Babylon and when those ideas, plots, words and lives are given breath from the very tips of your fingers, you can’t help feel powerful.
Now my question is how do you sustain or reignite that power, because it’s inebriating, it’s consuming and affirming. I feel like I’m in control of everything when I have it, when it’s flowing through me and I’m good with it, I feel like the things that lurk in the shadows don’t exist, that I can be fulfilled, that I have people. That’s what it feels like when I write, that’s what I’ve been missing.
I mean I’ve had moments, brief, fleeting fancies with that elusive lady called Inspiration, but I’ve never been able to hold audience with her long enough to feel that kind of fulfilment I once took for granted.
I could call it writer’s block, but the words exist. The characters are alive and kicking and the ideas are very much waiting to be released. I just can’t get past a few lines, a paragraph if I’m lucky, before she slips away under the cover of reality. The walls and worlds I once had at the tip of my fingers, the kind of magic I once wielded wanes and I’m…impotent. I guess that’s exactly what writer’s block is, but this feels different, it just feels…worse.
I had it, I was powerful; once you’ve tasted it, you have to have it again. You feel like your very existence, most notably your sanity, depends on it. I’m probably being overly dramatic, but when the walls are caving in around me in the real world, I need to know that I can still build my very own in a world where I can be both prince and pauper.
So I need to know how everyone else manages to keep it. How do you let the words flow, how do you turn water into wine and how do you conjure it up at will, because I need it?
I want to feel strong somewhere, it just so happens that somewhere isn’t here.
But I don’t know how to get back to the place where I once was.
Sometimes you have to not see things.
You have to not see the odd wrinkle of his shirts at midday or the smudged collars. You have to not see the passion marred skin, the unworn wedding band and the stolen glances.
Sometimes you have to not hear the secret phone calls, the near silent giggles and the hushed proclamations.
Sometimes you have to not notice the secret smiles, the stolen, lustful leers shared from across the table, room and rear-view mirrors.
You have to ignore light touches, the unfamiliar colognes and fragrances and you have to not see the change.
YOU are still in love.
You have to ignore the growing distance, the gnawing silence or the burgeoning unfamiliarity.
You have to ignore the unanswered calls, the late night arrivals, the even later and more frequent meetings and the unexpected weekend-long conferences.
You have to hold hands, smile lovingly, laugh agreeably and you have to cry yourself silently, secretly, to sleep.
You’ll need that.
Better to purge your frustrations, every night, over tear stained pillows and remain pliable than to hold it all in and become untamed, uncontrollable. That way the sky won’t fall.
But what if the sky fell?
What if the earth shook, the mushrooms finally inherited the earth and the wounded got off their knees?
What if the trenches were dug, the regalia bravely worn and the smell of war burned across the atmosphere?
What if you saw it all, heard it all and finally took a stand?
You are in love.
You’re responsible for your happiness. To not see things, to not hear them or smell them and to ignore the signs would be accepting your role in your own unhappiness.
Sometimes you have to risk your life to own your life.
So yes, sometimes you have to not see things.
You have to not see your own defeat, your fears and you have to brave the storm and admit your strength.
You don’t have to go unnoticed in your own relationship.