Stud with Swag » Bleeding Ink

Baby Steps: Bits And Pieces Of My Weekend

Knowledge — Mon, 26 Jul 2010 23:11:36 +0000

Having your current girlfriend and ex together in the same room is not as awkward as most people think.I’m not sure why it’s so unpleasant for most people, but I think a lot of it has to do with the depth of the relationships, the personality and characteristics of the women and the luck factor of the person linking them together. In this instance, that individual would be me.

The first time they met it was like they already knew each other for a long time. They had known of each other for quite some time, even talked on the phone two or three times over the past 6 years, but neither knew what to expect of the other. It was clear that they had a lot in common, and conversation flowed easy whether it was forced or not. They gotalong better than I could have imagined. The truth is, I didn’t know what to expect before embarking on this adventure. What I do know is that I have made a huge decision that will greatly impact my life, my girlfriend’s life, my family’s life and especially that of my ex-girlfriend and her immediate family. It’s the kind of decision one makes that brings people and families closer together, but whatever hang ups are in the way must be dealt with and addressed head on before things can go any further.

I won’t got into too much detail about the first and second time they met, but I will say that the fact that the girls have so much in common has been a welcome retreat, and the positivity they’ve displayed has further reinforced the notion, at least for me, that absolutely anything is possible. And, yes, I know I’m being vague as fuck, but that’s purposeful for now.

I don’t even know what to say about this weekend except that I was tired for most of it, and it went very well. It was at times amazing and at other times completely exhausting. I was running on empty, suffering from severe lack of sleep, and I still have no idea how I managed to get anything of note accomplished considering my brain felt like a bag of mush, for lack of a better word. A handful of multi-vitamins early Sunday morning was my somewhat successful last-ditch attempt to energize my body’s core before beginning the workweek. I’m still feeling a tad sluggish today, but my mood couldn’t be any better considering.

The Rundown

Friday night:

I’m lounging on the couch with my girlfriend watching late night television.
My best friend Q calls at around 11p.m. She wants to come over and chill. Her husband got on her nerves so she wanted to get away for a few hours.

Saturday night:

Q comes through around 12:30am – lots of girl talk between my best friend and girlfriend as I tried to keep from dozing off on the couch. At some point, I sat upright and Q and I chatted the rest of the early morning away. She left at around 4:30am.
Baby and I try to catch some z’s but can only manage about 2.5 hours of sleep as daylight has descended upon the city. The day is looking fair and bright even though I am clearly lacking the necessary sleep to keep myself sharp the remainder of the day. Oh well.
Needless to say, I was still somewhat physically exhausted, yet my mind wanted my body to firmly believe that it was well rested and refreshed. Meanwhile, I was sleepy as hell.
Morning consisted of a small breakfast and herbal tea.
I got some writing done for a short story series I’m collaborating on with Alix, a fellow blogger.
Kisses and hugs showered on me by the girlfriend in between sips of tea and mental grinding.
I read some e-mails by afternoon, one in particular from my pregnant ex-girlfriend whom we’ll call Peanut.
She e-mailed me to let me know she was in downtown Chicago at one of the colleges and planned to stop by the condo when her session let out. I let the Baby know Peanut’s plans and she cleaned up a little in preparation while I wrote.
Talked to Baby a little about Peanut coming over since I knew this would only be the third time, and I wanted to double check to ensure that she was cool with everything. She said she was. And yes, I know, it takes a special kind of woman to say yes to something like that, but this is me we’re talking about.
Peanut showed up and I was supposed to take her grocery shopping, but I was on a roll and didn’t want to stop writing yet so she chilled for a while. At 6 months pregnant, her belly was/is like… whoa… stuck out like a misshapen torpedo. The little munchkin growing inside is beginning to kick and move around all the time.
Peanut and Baby talked for a while as Peanut watched the 2^nd season of True Blood. Baby played games on the computer in between and I… did more writing.
Baby got a call from our mutual friend Courtney. She wanted to go to the waterfront café to drink, eat and gossip about her recent travels. I declined and stayed at the crib while I continued to… you guessed it, write some more.
The weather started to look a little gloomy (bummer!) so Courtney and Baby decided to head to our favorite indoor Bar and Grill instead where they would eat and drink a little something-something.
In the mean time, Peanut was chillin’ on the sofa and eventually we both were starving. Baby had already left and I was ’bout ready to eat a horse, so I did something I’ve been doing a lot of lately… cooked.
I made salmon, spinach and rice. We gobbled it up like a couple of famished turkey’s.
I asked Peanut to be a little patient about going to the store because I was putting the finishing touches on my story. She was cool. I continued writing until Baby stumbled home saying how drunk she wasn’t.
A little more of the herbal tea and I was relaxed even though I’d been sitting on my ass the entire day. I felt good… and tired.
Baby was cool though, she only had a double pint… she claims, so we were all relaxed and everyone was on chill mode.
My mom called late that night because I was supposed to drop off a package earlier that day. Oops, I genuinely forgot. I didn’t make it out to the suburbs and wasn’t planning to at that point. Ever been so tired you may as well been drunk? That was I. Lack of sleep had exhausted me.
My Mom was NOT feeling that answer. I told her I was working on a deadline. Only after accusing me of being irresponsible for not rescheduling earlier did she have the nerve to ask me if I was on drugs because I sounded drunk, although I hadn’t drank a lick of alcohol all day. I really had to give my mom the cold shoulder through the phone. I basically told her “if sleep was a drug I was in need of an overdose.”
I ended the call and went back into the living room where the girls were watching TV and recanting back episodes of True Blood.
We all talked candidly and got some things out in the open. I checked the time and realized that it had gotten way late, however I completed my writing well before the deadline.
We laughed and joked awhile and they teased me for being… well… me. When I’m sleepy, my silly mood and goofy antics go beyond the ridiculous, but only when I’m around those I love.
Later that night I told Peanut that I was in no position to drive anyone anywhere. She agreed.
She was too cool and agreed to spend the night at our place. I made her a nice, comfy bed on the sofa so she could get a good night’s rest. Baby gathered the pillows, sheets and comforter and they both put me to work making it up. Peanut didn’t have any pajamas so Baby found an old pair of jogging pants and one of my plain white tee’s for her to sleep in.
After Baby turned in I made sure Peanut was comfortable on the sofa before following suit.
Finally, I crawled into bed with Baby and spooned my ass to sleep.

Things to note: After an exhausting Friday to Saturday at which point I incorporated 2 and a half hours of sleep, at the most, into the 24 hour time period, I was awakened to the smell of scrambled eggs, breakfast sausage, and toast. Mmmm… my taste buds were awakening along with the rest of my senses. I heard Baby call out, “breakfast in 5 minutes.” Ok, cool, I thought. I could see the light from outside straining to reach into the bedroom window, and I was satisfied with the fact that I must have gotten a good night sleep to be this wide awake. After all, my eyes wouldn’t have been wide open if I hadn’t, right?

I rolled out of bed and dragged myself into the living room to find Peanut lying across the sofa bed. That’s when Baby walked in with plates of food heaped high. She set them on the dining room table. Breakfast looked great, but something was just not right. Something was out of place, but I couldn’t put my finger on it yet. Suddenly, I glanced over at the clock face staring at me from against the wall and low and behold it was only 7:30 in the morning… on a Sunday… and I was wide the fuck awake…

Unbelievable. Although it turned out to be a great start to an even better day.

My Aries Taurus Cusp Has A Moon in Aquarius

Knowledge — Fri, 23 Jul 2010 18:44:19 +0000

nusulestar.deviantart.com

My longest relationships have been with Tauruses. There is this deep, formidable, sensual reciprocity that knocks me off my feet with every connection. These bonds have withstood the test of time. There is no rushing in or out of relationships with Taurus women because affection and devotion come easy after love and trust is established, but it doesn’t just up and go away as easy as it comes. She takes her time when it comes to love, and when it rains down you don’t ever have to wonder where you stand with her. The huge appetite for intimacy inherent in me has been satisfied countless times by these earthy seductive creatures. Lots of physical and mental caressing is necessary, expressed, and well maintained in all my experience.

I feel a similar platonic connection to Taurus men and have found that they make for the best of male friends in my life. I’ve just never been able to keep one around long enough due to the fact that our interests and commonalities are so in tune they’d rather pursue a form of intimacy other than what’s been offered, to no freaking avail, obviously.

Ever see a Taurus in love? They’re unstoppable. My girlfriend and closest ex are both Tauruses. And how does one properly resist the charms of not only the bull but the bullfighter too – all wrapped up into one? It’s damn hard I’m telling you. I was born on April 20, the Aries – Taurus cusp, best known as the cusp of power. The attributes of both Aries and Taurus reside within. Part of me is on fire, and the other half remains on solid ground. And to be completely honest, that’s been the story of my life from as far back as I can remember.

Perseverance and determination mixed with a fiery spirit and unstoppable will has been a primary reason I’ve overcame and recovered from some of life and loves most destructive situations. Some I’ve placed myself squarely into with my eyes wide open. Guess which side has afforded me the most excitement? It’s the same one I’ve continually denied the better part of my life. I proudly refused to recognize certain aspects of my personality and the traits found within had everything to do with Aries dominance, impulsiveness and aggression.

When I finally charted my date and time of birth, I discovered that my moon is in Aquarius. It explained some things. My dad’s an Aquarius-Pisces and I think it’s one of the biggest reasons we’ve been so close all my life despite his physical absence the second half of my childhood. He’s always been a constant in my and my siblings worlds however. My dad, the supportive, fun-loving, liberal parent, as opposed to my mom, the Sagittarius-Capricorn mother who exhibits the intensity of each and every one of the traits found within this sign to her very CORE. She sits atop the Cusp of Prophecy. ‘Nuff said.

I used to wonder where the hell I got all this charm from. And there were times when my mom would tell me I was too overbearing and too dominant, but… not assertive enough and not persistent in my endeavors and I’d think to myself…. “well, hell, how does one manage such a precarious mix of impetuous stagnation?”

My family signs:

Dad: Aquarius- Pisces cusp
Mom: Sagittarius-Capricorn cusp
Me: Aries- Taurus cusp with Aquarius moon
Older Sister: Cancer-Leo cusp
Oldest Brother: Cancer-Leo cusp
Youngest Brother: Gemini-Cancer cusp
Youngest Sister: Sagittarius

Yes… my younger sister is the sanest one of all. With that said, I have a very close, ultra emotional and loving family. My role has always been that of both warrior and peace maker, diplomat and adviser to family and friends depending on the occasion.

It’s funny that most of my life I’d proudly proclaimed myself a Taurus with no clear explanation for the detachment I felt for certain things and people, mirrored by impulsive acts that didn’t align with what I thought to be clear logical cognitive thinking. What I didn’t understand was that my fire side was always on reserve, always sizzling, and I’d brought it to the surface more than I cared to accept. Not so much out of sight, out of mind. It was more like if I don’t recognize this aspect of myself, how will I learn how to manage and deal with what results whenever it takes over.

I remember asking my mom for the exact time of my birth so I could chart my sign, and her reply went like this: “Sun, (her nickname for me) astrology is demonic (I don’t believe it is though!) I don’t believe in it and neither should you,” which heightened my desire to do my own research. Afterall, knowledge is power and single-minded knowledge leads to narrow ideas and perspectives.

My relationships with my Taurus girls have not been free of the possessiveness and jealousy they’re known for displaying at times, but there’s another side that makes you forget all that. It’s the delicate, sultry, and downright submissive nature that is intrinsic in these women. I find the mental chemistry normally finds a way to supersede any pervasive negativity that threatens the bond. Between the two, the relationships and intuitiveness at times requires no explanation as some things are best left unsaid. Some bonds just cannot be explained; they just are.

Introducing Rebel & Rene

Knowledge — Thu, 22 Jul 2010 16:47:52 +0000

After a conversation with an ex about where our relationship went wrong, I realized that we had to be in two different relationships. How could her version be so different from mine? Well, when they say there are two sides to every story, people are telling you the truth.

I have partnered with the wonderful Alix B Golden of A Brown Girl to bring you two sides of the same love story. Even from the beginning there were sparks between Rebel & Rene…

Rebel:

Taking a deep breath, I rushed out of the powder room bumping into a customer in my haste. A tall customer with hazel eyes and locs. Any other day, I would have flashed her my dimpled smile, but I wasn’t my normal flirtatious self. She placed her hands on my hips to steady me as I felt myself ankles wobble courtesy of my ridiculous 6 inch stilettos. Her hands were warm at my waist and even in my grouchy mood, I couldn’t help but notice how the finger tips of her hands almost met. Gotta love a girl with big hands.

“Oh, excuse me!” I said, as I tried to talk myself out of blushing. My cheeks weren’t listening.

“Excuse me, too, beautiful.” She spoke and I found myself looking into thickly lashed hazel eyes. I put an extra swing in my hips as I glided away from her, causing my dress to flow around me. I looked behind me, catching her smirking at my swaying my ass. I rolled my eyes. Pervert, I thought with a smile.

Rene:

As I entered [the bathroom], a short, petite, pale-skinned sales girl was exiting. We bumped into each other hard as I reflexively reached down to steady the camera hanging from my neck. I thought she was going to stumble so I grabbed her around her waist and pulled her toward me to steady her gait.

I felt my face get all hot and my head rushed a little while I considered, for a moment, how good my hands felt around her tiny waist, before quickly retracting them.

”Oh, excuse me!” she exclaimed, in a southern drawl that I just knew had to be exaggerated ‘cause whoa. I hadn’t heard an accent that heavy, deep, and sexy since I first watched True Blood.

I said, “Excuse me, too, beautiful,” as she slipped past me and headed toward the front of the boutique. I watched her hips and ass sway as she walked away. She turned and saw me staring before I caught her roll her eyes as she turned around and continued on.

Make sure you catch Rebel & Rene every Tuesday and Thursday on I Bleed Ink Magazine beginning July 27th!

Honoring My Woman

Knowledge — Mon, 12 Jul 2010 23:18:31 +0000

It’s not always easy to be the person I want to be. And sometimes it’s hard for you to understand what I’m feeling. At times, I can be the most charming, loving person to be around, but there are times when I’m distant, content with the isolation that surrounds. And it makes you reserved and sad. But there’s no reason for that, I just need to be alone with myself. In fact, I don’t need to know all of your secrets either, I just need to know your heart is receiving what I give her. There is so much I want to share with you, but most of it depends on what my heart’s feeling too.

When I’m quiet it means I’m lost in thought. Not that I’m ignoring you, baby-girl, not at all. It seems like the more we love, the more sensitive you become. The more we make love, the more drawn to me you are. I find that at times you feel hurt by me, too easily, but our passionate emotions have never come completely between us. And when you put two and two together, we feel loves emotions, as one.

Just know that my heart is so open to you it feels vulnerable. I fully understand that I am driven by passion, while loves fire remains your fuel, that’s why the sex is outstanding. As we already know I don’t always use reason when it comes to women. But I blame myself for their submission, ’cause when I was too busy indulging in it to concern myself with why passion had to be my center, I got no results, yet I continued. Every relationship, passionate, and still, some broken-hearts need patching. But for now I just need to chill and relax and think less about all of my misgivings.

At times I need to be alone, to recharge my batteries. To believe in myself enough to become a better me.

And so I thank you for being the woman you are, Kelly. The deep, understanding, going over, above, and beyond for me. When it comes to my woman-handling, you are braver than anyone I’ve ever seen. More than anyone whose ever loved me. With that said, I’ve asked a million times why does she… why does her devotion to me come just as easy as her loving? Why does my charm get mistaken, I mean why do I allow it to get the best of me. Yet as easy as it comes I can give it away just as freely. But it’s not free, and if my history bears repeating. You know what I was addicted to was the giving and receiving.

You see, lust is one thing, but when you open yourself up emotionally. It’ll fuck up your whole belief system, have you believing you can do anything. I’ve been conflicted time and again and run the gamut of multiple relationships, but here I am and here we are. Full circle and we’re sailing. Our ships drifting off to sea, but we’re together in this sailboat, and I learned to sail at summer camp so it’s more than just hope afloat. I just want you to know I love you. It bears repeating. To love someone is to be able to see not only with your eyes, but with everything. To love is to make sacrifices, and so together, we can face anything.

I believe that what we have found is a once in a life time kind of thing. Most women wouldn’t have the courage to stand up to me so there’s that, and the fact that I truly adore you baby. There are no other words to describe the hold your love has had on me. You ignite everything, and it’s your desire that keeps our boat rocking steady.

Early Memories of Female Masculinity

Knowledge — Wed, 07 Jul 2010 06:25:38 +0000

One summer I stood outside of a highway rest area with my siblings. A big 18-wheeler rolled into the lot and parked. The driver hopped down and after securing his truck he headed toward the entrance where we stood. There was nothing distinct about his walk. Nothing special. He wore a pair of blue jeans, a plaid shirt and some work boots. His head was shaved into a buzz cut.

To this day, I distinctly remember saying, ”Is that a man?” out loud. I was peering closely at him as he walked by. I noticed soft, barely noticeable, but clearly womanly features against rough skin that looked like he worked in the sun a lot. Before I realized what I said out loud she turned around and said, “I’m a woman.” She was serious. I could tell by the tone in her voice that she was very much so a woman despite her masculine attire and appearance. She was also sure of herself and not afraid to let anyone know. I had to have been about 10 years old at the time. That memory has stuck with me through the years.

She kept walking and we kept quiet until she walked through the door. I was old enough to be embarassed at allowing my private thoughts to escape my mind, rather audibly in fact. I didn’t know it then, but that moment would become poignant later in my life because every time I think back, it’s the first memory I associate with understanding that gender, sexuality, and physical appearance were not in sync for most people, nor was it required to be in sync with anyone else or any set thing no matter what. Although we are all individuals, there exist tons of attributes and characteristics that make us who we are. Each comes with its own complicated system and process.

There are plenty of studs and butches who have that certain stereotypical look associated with masculine lesbians, but the fact is, whether it’s natural or adopted, that alone is not an accurate indicator of any single pertinent thing without knowing a person for more than what meets the eye. I begin to adopt a self-awareness that comes into play for most, if not all studs and butches at some point during their growth and transition, the process that takes many from fem to butch or tomboy to stud, etc.

Incidents like this were passing episodes, filed away to remember when the time was right. I have no idea if the female trucker was gay, but I do know that my perception of her swagger and confidence, coupled with a masculine hair style that probably got her mistaken for a man more often than anything, she was a woman. While my siblings busted my chops, I thought about how interesting her life must be. How cool for any woman to have the power to do whatever a man could. I didn’t know why I thought it at the time, but years later I began to understand.

Whatever her sexuality, she was one tough butch. If I had to gauge my gay-dar, I’d say she was a proud one. For me, having never been exposed to gay culture, being engulfed by women was a liberating feeling to grab hold of. Only then was I able to start shaping and molding the kind of stud I am today. When I began to enjoy the sense of freedom that came with being open about myself, I felt just like that trucker. When you know exactly who you are, who among you can tell you otherwise?

From Smooth Operator To Soldier Of Love

Knowledge — Thu, 03 Jun 2010 19:52:05 +0000

I listened to Sade’s new joint ’Soldier Of Love’ on my way to work this morning. I drove as my girl sat on the passenger side and did something she hasn’t done in ages … I honestly can’t even remember how long it’s been since she let her seat back and just laid back and relaxed the entire trip. She’s normally a side-seat driver who doesn’t take a minute’s rest when I or anyone else is driving with her in the car, but this time was different.

Sade put us in a mood and we rode in silence. I soaked in the smooth, sultry delivery of Sade’s signature sound that always makes me feel a bit of nostalgia whenever I listen. My girl looked serene. I wondered what she was thinking as the lyrics spoke to us. This woman, Sade, who still stirs my soul at the sound of her heart’s thoughts expressed in lyrics and words. What I love about Sade is that she offers up her soul on a platter and serves it whole to us through her music. She puts every bit of herself into her song so that you can feel what she feels. Listening to her is always a peaceful sort of reflection because you can always find pieces of yourself or what you’ve taken your own heart through in any one of her songs.

As soon as I heard the album I was totally captivated. The entire album takes you on a journey and allows you to witness her pain, pleasure, heartache and heartbreak, past loves, scars, wounds, healing and hope for love even through the pain it once inflicted. What I take from the album is the ability for us to keep the faith of giving and accepting love again and again despite the battles we go through in and out of it.

Love is an addiction.

It got me thinking back to a conversation I had with my friend (G) the day before. G and her girlfriend broke up last week. Since then, she met a new girl and they struck up a conversation. Turns out the girl is a soft-stud lesbian who is attracted to G. She gave the girl her phone number and they’ve been getting to know each other and making love to each other over the course of the week. G spilled all the beans and unlike prior conversations where bean spilling episodes ensue, she didn’t end it with the stiff warning of: ”don’t put this on your blog”, like usual. What makes this situation interesting is not only the fact that they have a lot in common, including children, one a piece, but that G still lives with her ex-girlfriend, and the new girl lives apart from her current girlfriend. G’s the type of girl that never stays single for long so I wasn’t surprised to learn that someone was trying to talk to her her up already. What I am surprised about is the speed with which this girl is trying to snatch her up with so many other things already on a half-full plate.

The new girl, who I’ll call (P), has been with her girlfriend for 7 years. P is 29, but her girlfriend is 45. They live apart so the fact that she cheats on her doesn’t cause major problems in the relationship, however G admits that she considers P a serial cheater. What really gets me is that this girl has recycled game, and it’s working despite the fact that her willingness and ability to cheat is already out there. I’m talking… P is running the kind of game that has G all excited about the prospect of sharing something really special with her.

I’m like… “G, are you serious?” After everything she’s seen me put other women through, this same tired game is working? Really? For real? Damn though. Keep in mind that it’s only been one week since they’ve connected, but everything P has been telling her is everything she’s heard before, but here’s the kicker, it’s also everything she wants to hear. Every single thing. In fact, I’ve said the those very same things so often, with success, that all I could do was shake my head in disbelief that G was seriously falling for the bullshit. What’s sadder is that I was that same blatant, cocky, asshole once upon a time so I know the cycle all too well.

What boggles me is that the game is still in full effect in general and I’m seeing close friends get affected by shit that I used to say and do to girls just like them. I would often wonder how and why gorgeous women would fall for something they know sounds and is too good to be true. Sometimes it’s hard to sit and listen and not interject, but I have to find a balance where by I’m encouraging them to think independently and trust their intuition while also having fun and not getting so deeply involved that they become hurt in the process.

The one good thing is that the girl has been upfront and honest with G since the beginning. The bad is that I’m not so sure the same can be said about her girlfriend, but I’m certain the girlfriend already has a good idea that P is a major player.

It really got me thinking about myself and my cheating bastard days. Some very select friends were aware of my ways and they’d often glamorize it by calling me ”Pimpin” or “Playa,” but I never felt like my romantic situations called for glamorization.

I just thought I was a smooth operator, and no one could tell me anything. Before I became comfortable with being friends with women without any sexual tension or sexual desire, I’d offer some women only friendship and there were times when she’d take my offer for only friendship as rejection. As much as I hear women complain about being the other woman, some of them are comfortable in this role. Less pressure, less stress, but what most forget early on is that less is never more and it’s an all around type of thing. You get less of everything.

So now that I’ve gotten a little older and wiser, I understand and appreciate the value of a woman’s friendship with absolutely no strings or benefits attached. If she doesn’t reciprocate my values, she can kick herself to the curb. No angles or ulterior motives, just a friendship that’s genuine and free of constraints. In many respects, I cherish the times I get to see my prior actions through others, like P for instance. Taking a critical look at the actions of the individual means I take an even harder look at what I was doing to myself and others.

We’ll see what this relationship holds for G, but in the mean time, I’m gonna break out some of my older Sade albums and lend them to her for a spell. Sade’s is the kind of music that makes you want to feel the way it makes you feel… all the time. That’s what it does for me. The reflections found within those lazy melodies bring about a feeling that makes you want to take notice. I’m hoping that maybe G will listen and take what she will from the woman I consider the Goddess of Soul. This woman speaks to other women in a way that most will pass off as just singing, but others will seek and find the deeper message.

Anyway, as the CD winded down and we got to the last song I was at peace. I turned to look at my girlfriend who reflected back at me a gorgeous, open-minded, woman who never stopped loving me despite my previous attempts to cheat myself out of the very love that I needed, wanted and desired. It continues to surround my spirit to this day.

From smooth operator to soldier of love. I kinda like the sound of that.

The Epitome Of A Stud Revisited: Artangel & Oreet Ashery Present ‘Staying’

Knowledge — Mon, 05 Apr 2010 20:46:05 +0000

Early last year I wrote a blog titled The Epitome Of A Stud. Later that year I received a letter from Satoko Fujishiro from the London-based organization Artangel. They asked to use excerpts from The Epitome Of A Stud to be included in an upcoming publication. A select portion of my writing would be used in conjunction with one of the alter egos in the book who is called Soft Stud.

There was no contemplating anything. Suffice it to say, I said yes because I had absolutely no reason to say no. I researched the organization to familiarize myself with their work and the rest is history. They were working on a project titled Staying: Dream, Bin, Soft Stud and Other Stories. Through art, discussion, monologue, interviews, imagery and doodles hand drawn by the women, we are asked to try to understand a collective journey from oppression. They fled their homes in Africa and the Caribbean after suffering trauma, homophobia and discrimination at the hands of society and family because of their sexual orientation. Homosexuality is considered illegal and punishable by death in some of these countries. All of the women are still seeking or have already been granted asylum in the United Kingdom.

Stayingis a celebration of life, love, fear and perseverance. The alter ego, Soft Stud, seeks to expand not only the terminology, but the way that others envision the heart, mind and soul of the woman behind the word: soft stud. She also discusses sexual experiences and romantic relationships with women and how she’s viewed them both in terms of self-identity and expectations. She expressed that in her role as a stud, there are certain expectations, but there should be none because every single lesbian who identifies as stud or soft stud is unique.

Artangel took a bold step in bringing to light some of the issues that gay and lesbian asylum seekers face in whatever country they seek it. Asylum is often viewed as life or death for many. The threat of violence or worse among international gays and lesbians has made asylum an incredibly viable resource, despite the fact that the process can at times seem never-ending. As recent as 1990, being gay or lesbian was grounds for denying an individual asylum in the United States. That changed with a court decision by former Attorney General Janet Reno in 1994. The ruling set a precedent that says persecution based on sexual orientation can be grounds for person to seek political asylum. It remains a difficult and dangerous journey from start to end no matter where it is sought. What remains is the knowledge that the need for political asylum is still great and can be felt stronger than ever in a day in age where one step forward for gays in the US or UK can mean two steps back for them elsewhere.

I support the individual and collaborative efforts of interactive artists like Oreet Ashery and organizations like Artangel and a slew of others who use their powers for good. I enjoyed the interactive artistic approach. Dramatic storytelling through raw emotion using writing, art and dialogue will remain an art form I hold in high regard.

Staying: Dream, Bin, Soft Stud and Other Stories went live in London on January 20, 2010.

My text appears on page 49, downloadable from the link below;
http://www.artangel.org.uk/docs/file_1268147908645.pdf

The link to download ‘workshop notes’ is in this page as part of the introduction of the project by artist Oreet Ashery; http://www.artangel.org.uk//projects/2010/staying/introduction_staying_and_learning/page_1

If you would like to read the printed publication, two PDF files are downloadable from here; http://www.artangel.org.uk/projects/2010/staying

Clothes Don’t Make You But They Can Break You

Knowledge — Thu, 18 Mar 2010 22:56:06 +0000

“I’ve always been a tomboy!” I exclaimed with a force that I hoped would resonate long after the conversation ended. My mom proceeded to say, “No, you haven’t, you liked wearing dresses.” After sincerely expressing that I never liked or enjoyed wearing either she lamented that perhaps there was truth to this. Besides, the proof was in the pudding. The only time I wore a dress or skirt was out of necessity. When my mom allowed herself to think back to a time that I’d volunteered to wear either just because, she came up empty handed. I was somewhat of a pro at adhering to gender expectations and societal norms. The clothing was just the tip of the iceberg of my gender identity exploration, but it would be the beginning of a journey I’d longed to take since as far back as I could remember.

The last time I wore a skirt was for a wedding. In fact, I did so because I wanted to look the part and fit in. Although I was a proud of my attire, I knew without a doubt that I would be completely uncomfortable during the entire ceremony and reception. I was right. It’s difficult for me to look back at those pictures even now because I was so unhappy then. I kept the outfit not only as a reminder of a beautiful wedding day I had the honor to witness, but as a constant reminder of the beginning of my journey.

I remember sweating buckets during most of the wedding ceremony. I had such a poor self image, but I outwardly projected content while being riddled with discontent. I was hiding the real me from my family, the outside world and my friends out of fear of rejection. Rejection from the world is one thing, but from those you love, its effects are crippling. I did anything I could to avoid it until I could no longer pretend. I suffered from a severe inability to find comfort because I was afraid to hurt the ones I loved the most. Those feelings existed long before that day and would go on to persist until I could no longer accept the shell of the person I was starting to become. I was beside myself over the fact that a lot of this would come as a complete shock to those closest to me.

I was well aware of the fact that the clothes I wore had a big impact on my self image, which in turn coincided with how I felt about my sexuality. I was ashamed of it and myself.

The people I run into now that I knew way back then are often surprised at my transformation. You see, when you become comfortable with your interior and exterior self, those defensive walls start coming undone and negative reception becomes of less concern. My peace of mind was at stake so at the risk of making other people in my world uncomfortable, I begin to take the necessary steps to find and grab hold of my sanity. But really, it’s not a transformation, but a realization that I needed to do whatever necessary to feel complete. Something as simple as clothing reflected the person I felt inside.

My hair was the next to go. The first time I went to the hair salon to have it cut into a fade style, my barber was hesitant, but I finally coaxed him into giving me the style I wanted. It was sort of like freeing my mind in a sense, and it was one of the most liberating feelings. I sported a boy cut, not because I was trying to fit a particular image, but because I honestly hated having to style my hair every single day. I wanted something more practical. I hated sitting in the hair salon for hours on end just to have a style last a few days. My mom’s reaction was not unexpected, but I was past the point of conforming for anyone but myself, and she has come to respect my choices. The day I stopped hiding was the day I started living. This quest for self-actualization exists in all of us and manifests through various degrees of needs, wants and desires that must be met.

I could not attempt to meet my full potential without knowing who I was, and being comfortable with that person. If you don’t know who you are or you’re uncomfortable with who you are, you can’t live your life to the fullest. You can’t even begin to fathom what it is without being content with the whole you. Clothes and hair don’t make the person, but they certainly can highlight our many different characteristics. The same for hair. Ultimately, it’s what’s underneath it all that we must not lose sight of. Clothes don’t make the man or woman but the ability to decide how we want to be seen is not only an expression of our personality, but also an extension of self-confidence.

Once a person has moved through feeling and believing that they are deficient, they naturally seek to grow into who they are, that is to self-actualize. – wikipedia

Gays Shouldn’t Be Allowed To…

Knowledge — Thu, 11 Feb 2010 18:42:04 +0000

Gays Shouldn’t Be Allowed To… [insert stupidity here]

Today I was reminded of a discussion I took part in on Facebook a few months back. A guy on my friend’s list posted an unusual update to his profile, which was in fact a follow-up to a update he posted a week prior. He wasn’t happy with the positive feedback so he wanted to “stir the pot a little more” and get it all the way boiling, and it worked. I along with a few others commented on his update and so a brand-new discussion was born. He wanted to know what people thought about the recently elected mayor of Houston, Texas. Specifically, what people thought about her lesbian sexuality and were they okay with it? He further mentioned that he had nothing in common with her and didn’t understand her family structure, the fact that s which was of major concern. He questioned her ability to be mayor because of her sexuality. I recall commenting then replying with another and then stopping altogether when I could feel my blood beginning to boil while reading some of the “well-intended,” hateful replies. There were a few comments like mine. Made by people who weren’t afraid to express their disappointment with the way the discussion was heading.

My family appears with me everywhere. My life partner appears with me everywhere but this race is about who can do the best job as mayor. - Annise Parker

Since when does having nothing in common with someone mean they are incapable of providing quality, effective leadership? It appeared that he was still struggling with the initial shock of her win. Was the consensus in Texas that they wanted a lesbian or a highly capable politician and stateswoman to run the city? He didn’t even refer to her opponent, Gene Locke, a former city attorney who happens to be black. He didn’t bother to divulge his grievances at her political shortcomings or ideological differences. Instead, the focus was placed solely on sexual preference, which already proved to be a miserable failure for her opponent. Once the comments about religion, the bible and the sin of homosexuality starting rolling in, that was it for me. It lead to further debate about why a person’s sexuality should be considered when it comes to political office or hiring for a job, especially where children are present. People were not only giving this argument credence, we finally got to the reason behind the update! The majority of comments came from so-called black Christian.A few in particular derived from a girl I went to high school with. This single mother of two went on to profess that God didn’t want her to talk about the sins of homosexuality at that time. Furthermore, she understood why he took issue with the mayor’s sexuality. Apparently, God wanted her to express her prejudiced opinion a few minutes later because she went on to proclaim a complete discord with all matters concerning homosexuality including job seeking.Besides the sheer stupidity of the comments, it startled me to consider that most of the negativity came from individuals whose own family structure and lifestyle paled in comparison to this lesbian woman. I wasn’t surprised that those with the most junk in their closet had the most disparaging opinions. My final gesture was to give homophobia the Facebook boot. I deleted them both. My tolerance level has always been 100%, meaning I respect everyone’s opinion, even those I don’t agree with. It does not mean I have to further subject myself to it if I have the option not to.

Now the guy who started it all went to high school with my older sister back in the day. He and I conversed on Facebook via private message well before the incident occurred. He even flirted a little which I kindly deterred because he’d already acknowledged my sexuality more than once. I knew he was well aware of how I identified. I remember calling my sister to familiarize myself with who he was because I couldn’t remember off hand. So why the masked prejudice? That’s what made it so hard to disengage from the discussion initially, but I eventually did.

I not only have a tendency to totally disregard people who use the bible to propagate discrimination and prejudice in any form, I do not feel it beneficial to engage them further. When one is trapped in a prison of faith based hate and ignorance, they become devoid of common sense and logic. But when others who call themselves Christians back up those opinions, it both emboldens the message of discrimination, just as it further narrows the mind.

In retrospect, there is tremendous diversity within the LGBT community. Just because there is increased visibility within our ranks doesn’t mean that that straight guy you’ve seen at the gym for years isn’t really a closeted homosexual. The thoughtful, attentive schoolteacher your child adores has been living with her female partner of 15 years whom she loves with all of her heart. Your doctor, dentist, grocery store cashier, boss, colleague, family member, friend, class mate or pastor could be gay. You have no idea who is and who isn’t and which of them have come into your life to extend a helping hand or provide a service you’ve required. It’s not okay to invalidate another person just because they’re different than you. Negativity impacts us all. The good thing is that his position is no more radical today than it was yesteryear; though it’s just as disturbing and deliberately antiquated.

The mayor of Houston falls within a small minority of gays currently holding political office. The primary reason their sexuality is of any concern is because of sexist, oppressive, and homophobic intolerance. It wasn’t very long ago that a different, but radical minority was pushing for things like the right to drink from a general water fountain and to send their children to school with children of all races. They were fighting for things like full equality insetead of settling for separate but equal. The majority could have easily been made up of people like the two I refer to above whose mindsets remain stuck in the past.

When Out gays run political office it challenges peoples perceptions and prejudices about homosexuality. It can be a double edged sword. On one hand it asks people to look past sexuality to judge based on skill set and merit alone and on the other hand it boldly draws attention to a characteristic that should already be considered neutral. Fear of homosexuality is a biblical facade. Gays do not threaten the moral fabric of any institution, however they challenge the moral fiber of those who feel they are better than us just because they’re attracted to the opposite sex. Using the bible to justify homophobia is just as bad as slave masters and pro-slavery Christians using it to justify American slavery.

I was reminded of the discussion because a few days ago I received a Facebook notification of a pending friend request. Apparently, he still hasn’t figured out why we’re no longer acquaintances.

I Bleed Ink

Knowledge — Mon, 19 Oct 2009 14:55:21 +0000

A Brown Girl

I Bleed Ink is an online magazine celebrating the literary and artistic talents of the LGBTQ community. We are in need of submissions for our targeted launch date of November 1, 2009.
Please submit your literary submissions as a MS Word attachment. Submissions must be original works with rights held and retained by the contributer. There are no length requirements, however, longer works of fiction may be separated into multiple posts. Submissions with an overabundance of spelling and grammar errors will not be published.
Art submissions should be submitted as clear, high resolution jpegs or gifs. This includes photography, paintings, or line drawings.
If you are a performer, such as a Spoken Word artist and you would like to submit your work, please send links to your video performances.

Let’s support, celebrate and encourage the creative minds that keep the minds of the LGBTQ community stimulated. Send your contributions to submissions@i-bleed-ink.com. Keep up with what’s happening with the magazine by adding them to your twitter. Spread the word!

I Bleed Ink, Do You?

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