Camp was surreal. I’ve never in my life experienced that much instant, sincere welcome. Everywhere people smiled and acknowledged you. No one looked at me strangely because I don’t wear make-up, have very short hair, and wanted to wear a tie. Such a change from south Mississippi. My cabin mates were the best people I could have possibly wished for. How can you feel like family in just a week?
Many of my straight friends, even the most liberal, see this logic as warped. It’s one thing for them to admit that they would prefer their kids to be straight, something they’ll only begrudgingly confess. But wanting my daughter to be a lesbian? I might as well say I want her to grow up to be lactose intolerant.
WASH YOUR HANDS IF YOU ATE BUFFALO WINGS BEFORE GETTING LAID, OMG.
I realized last night that wedding vows and ceremony wordings are necessarily things that have been passed down and repeated (almost) verbatim, because that’s kinda the deal: we’re putting our names on the unfathomably long list of people who once made the same promise. It’s the ritual of the thing that grounds it and gives it weight, and I talk/write/think enough already. Maybe on this day I should say some words other people have said, because I feel the weight in them and they feel true without me having to fuck with them.
This is just some unfiltered honesty here. A feeling I’m still powering through la la la.
I felt like a second class citizen. I had to keep trying; I wouldn’t give up.
In what has already been a year of horrifying violence and tragedy for trans women of color, a young Somali-Canadian trans woman was lost this weekend in Toronto. Sumaya Dalmar, known also as Sumaya Ysl, was found dead on Sunday morning at the age of 26.
Since getting back, I have moved out of a bad living arrangement, found a new job, and come out to my mother. I’ve also started to question every assumption I’ve ever made — about myself, about others, and about what is possible. I’ve started to view people in a new way. I see privilege and disparity everywhere, and I feel a burning need to change it. More importantly, I believe that I can. I am more open and relaxed and at home in my body than I have ever been. I am frighteningly earnest. I am excited and grateful, and I am deeply, profoundly happy.
Most people generally don’t have to ‘come out’ as being heterosexual, or come out as not being transgender. For those of us whose lives exist outside of what society considers ‘normal,’ the issue of disclosing information about ourselves can happen daily, and being ‘outsiders’ is a vulnerable and often dangerous position. People are afraid of what they don’t know, and most know very little when it comes to sex and gender.
When I came out about being bisexual to a very well-educated medical school colleague of mine (at the top of his class, multiple degrees, extensive knowledge about politics), he innocently commented that he never quite understood the idea of threesomes and asked whether my bisexuality meant that I would want to marry both a man and a woman. I was totally taken aback that even a highly educated peer could so honestly equate bisexuality with polygamy.
“I know I am so very very lucky to have gotten to go to A-Camp 2014. A year ago, I was overwhelmed by the heteronormative home I would have to get used to and I am so happy that a year later, I was fortunate to be in a space that is the antithesis. It is an opportunity that we all should get to enjoy — and I have to say, dear Autostraddle Reader That Has Yet to Go to A-Camp, I really missed you last year. Apply your heart out, friend and don’t give up completely. Autostraddle is here for you and A-Camp awaits your greatness.”
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I was walking on eggshells the whole time. Like I couldn’t be who I am — I’m not free to be myself. It feels like you’re cutting off your legs or your arms. It feels like you can’t be a whole person.
