The Sounds of Pride
Carissa's chestnut brown curls bounced relentlessly as she marched with fellow members of the queer community. She yearned for the day in which a march would no longer be necessary. Until then, she marched, she yelled, she stood for those before her who lost the battle, and for those who currently exist in the chaos.
Beads of sweat rolled down her face like tears as the torrid heat rippled off the charcoal pavement. Chants echoed from the silver skyscrapers. The sounds of passion, of love, of unending pride filled the air. A sea of color could be spotted from blocks away.
As they jaunted through the otherwise mundane streets, people from around the world united over the universal purpose of inclusion regardless of status. Couples held tight to their partners, arm in arm, hand in hand. Some clutched posters with words of encouragement, with demands, with affirmations. "Queer is queer, we are here," read a banner braced by a group of glorious drag queens. As they suddenly halted, so did the thousands of lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, queer, intersex, asexual identifying citizens and their straight allies.
The words "homosexuality is a sin" were scrawled in a blood red spray paint across the walkway. After a two-second pause, the queens started dancing, laughing, hugging, as if their eyes had yet to glance over those sharp letters. "Love is love," they spoke quietly until the phrase roared into existence. Thousands of throats chimed out those words in unison.
That's the whole point of marching for your rights. That's the whole point of expressing pride for yourself and your community. At the end of the day, we are all people who laugh, who love, who live, and what could be better than that?
Names
As a transgender male, choosing a name that fits perfectly with yourself is something that I feel is one of the most important things in transitioning. It’s one of the first things people get to know about you when you meet them.
Seems easy enough, right?
Wrong.
No.
Absolutely not.
Maybe it is if you’re not me.
But as for myself, it’s been a mess. My parents have told me that the reason why they still call me my birth name is because they spent so long trying to decide on the perfect name for me. I never used to understand that, it’s just a name, right?
Wrong again.
There’s so much behind a name. Why did you choose one over another? Does it sound okay? Are you comfortable with hearing it all the time? Apparently according to other people, “Why is your name [insert name], you don’t look like a [name].”
Sure, I don’t look like it (and my first and last name both start with the same letter just to annoy me) but I also don’t exactly look like a guy yet either, so there’s no way I could look like whatever name I’ve chosen anyway.
I chose the name because I feel like it. It felt right for me, so I kept it. That is, I kept this one, after the five other ones from before. (I told you it was a mess.)
Something that sounds good to me one day might annoy the hell out of me the next, and that’s how I ended up with six names in the past five months or so.
I also didn’t fully understand the stress of having to tell everyone every time I felt like my name wasn’t working. It’s difficult enough to come out once to a person, much less six times, especially if they’re trying to get used to a name. My natural inclination to avoid risking annoying people has led to me not correcting them or not coming out at all simply due to my own insecurit about other people, even though I have no idea how they’ll actually respond when I tell them.
In part, this is probably because most of the trans people I know in my social life outside of the internet chose and were happy with a name after maybe one or two, or even their first one. It makes me feel weird to go through so many in my search to be comfortable, since it originally didn’t seem to be that hard.
I’m not usually the type of person who gets upset immediately if someone misgenders me or uses the wrong name, partially because I’m not that kind of person and partially because my own name changing has even driven me a bit crazy. I get that it’s difficult to keep up with, but hey, we’re in this together with trying to figure it out, so I mess up, you mess up, it’s probably okay.
I’ve always heard that names hold a deep meaning to them, but I never realized how damn important it actually was until I had to do it myself. And it is not fun when you only have a partial grasp on who are and want to be as a person.
Explain
I usually think my sexuality is fairly straight forward, despite it taking me a while to figure it out. Thing is, whenever I say I’m asexual, I’m always met with confused stares.
“So.. You don’t like anyone?”
“You don’t want sex?”
“What about kids?”
“How does being asexual even work?”
“Are you sure you don’t want to have sex?”
“How do you know you won’t like it?”
“At least try it!”
It gets exhausting after a while and I hate the question. But, I have friends who support me and help with this. Explaining it to my Mom was extremely hard, especially since she didn’t really understand what I meant. I decided to let her believe what she wanted and wait until I was more ready.
I am asexual biromantic. I may not be sexually attracted to anyone, but that doesn’t mean I can't care for somebody. It’s not something, I like to explain, but I should. So, in the future, other aces don’t have to.
For B
I’m sorry that I lack affection and am hard to understand
But I like it when you kiss me and want to hold my hand
I’m sorry I get scared and think it’s wrong at times
But growing up I was told our love would be a crime
I’m sorry I don’t write you things when you’re my wish upon a star
It’s just hard to talk about us when we're scared of what we are
I’m sorry people stare at us and friends say things that hurt
But you and I will grow from the times they buried us in dirt
I’m sorry that we didn’t work out and the world got in our way
But one day we’ll be strong enough to admit that we are gay
I’m sorry that it’s not today or anytime that soon
And I hope whoever you end up with gives you all the stars and moon
I’m sorry we were meant to be but your touch opened up my eyes
To love the things I want to love like girls instead of guys
I’m not sorry about us or anything we’ve done
We might not be together but you’ll always be the one
Unashamed
Much of my life has been shaped by shame. Be it because of the abuse I went through, because my mother insisted that everything about me was shameful, or because I just didn't (and often still don't) like what I see in the mirror. My family and bullies have conditioned me to look at myself as if I'm something to mock or to be embarrassed about. I was recently hospitalized because of mental illness, having two mood disorders and two anxiety disorders. Seeing myself celebrating pride in who I've become is often rather difficult.
I refuse to continue to let shame rule my life, though. I have a long way to go before I'm the person I want to be, but when I look at how far I've come, I know that I have a place among the Unashamed - be it at Pride or elsewhere.
It took me until I was twenty years old to realize that I'm sapphic. It took two more years to realize that I'm a lesbian. The reason I couldn't commit to men wasn't because I was "damaged goods" (as certain members of my family referred to me as when they thought I couldn't hear them), but because I'm simply not wired to be romantically or sexually involved with a man. I'm not damaged. There's no shame in loving other women as people believe I should love a man. I wish I realized this before I was an adult, but I can't change the past.
In this stream of consciousness, I hope to reach other people like me. People who've had their head down out of fear - be it fear of the unknown in identifying as something you don't completely understand yet, fear of how people will treat you, fear of how your identity fits into other parts of yourself (culture, religion, etc.), I know it's a lot. It's downright terrifying.
But I've found that being able to express more of myself after pushing through those fears has been very rewarding. As I've said, I'm not where I want to be. But I'm a few steps farther than I was three years ago, when I thought I was straight. Embracing yourself is difficult and often requires sacrifice, but it can also bring rewards. And Pride is what you make it. To me, it's about standing among the Unashamed. Standing tall, and telling the world that despite what it throws at me, I am worth fighting for. I have the right to carve a place and make a difference, even if it's only a personal difference.
You have the power to carve out your place and to fight for yourself. You have the power to live your life in a way that's fulfilling to you. You have the power to be Unashamed.
A Father’s Pride
“You didn’t have to walk me to school, Dad.” The wind whipped around the edges of a hand-hemmed skirt, the stitches slightly erratic but strong.
“It’s your first day at a new school. I wanted to make sure you got here okay.” The late summer sun beat down on a button-down shirt and tie.
“We’re five blocks from home.”
“Most accidents occur within five miles of home.”
“That’s in cars.”
“Good thing we walked, then.” As they neared the campus a swirl of minivans, bicycles, and skateboards passed them by, ignoring them save for a few headturns. “I see other parents around.”
“Great, you’ve joined the helicopter squad.”
“You have your class schedule printed out?”
The backpack shifted over a broad shoulder, the blouse beneath showing stitches similar to the skirt. “First period English, snore. I’ll navigate alright.”
“You have Mrs. Feld’s number?”
“Saved on speed dial, right after ‘Over-Protective Parent’ at #1.”
As they neared the building they slowed, their steps growing short. “Her office is on the east side of the gym, you can always go there if you have any problems. Don’t forget to stay on campus - remember to make allies, not just friends. Kids who will jump into a fight instead of Instagramming it.”
“Really?”
“I mean it, find a few honorable delinquents and gain their trust. I hid some JUUL refills in the bottom of your backpack, you can use them to buy influence.”
″Seriously Dad?” The backpack came down with a soft thump, hands covering it protectively. “What the hell??”
“Hey, if you don’t use them you can leave them there. They’ve got my fingerprints on them, I'll go down for them if anyone asks.”
With a sigh, the backpack shifted back up into place. “You’re certified, Dad. Past the helicopter brigade, you’re a drone parent now.”
“I...” The footsteps stopped, stalling on the sidewalk. “I know I’m not brave, okay? You get that from your mother. But that doesn’t mean I’m not damn proud of you. If the world has improved at all since my time in school, kids like you made it that way.”
A lip-glossed smile crept up beneath long, semi-curled locks. “Is this my obligatory pep talk now? ’Cause I’m good. Really. You can go back to work now.”
“Right, unnecessary dorky Dad moment.” Cuff links clinked as large arms wrapped around the slightly shorter figure next to them, encompassing them in a hug. “I love you, Sam.”
Reflexively the shoulders stiffened, then sagged as smaller arms wrapped back around. “It's Samantha, please."
"Crap. I'll get that right, one day."
"I still love you too, Drone Dad.” They held together for a couple seconds more. “You know this looks worse when I’m dressed like this.”
“Oh well. I’m already going down for contributing nicotine to minors."
The hands pulled away, latching back onto the straps of the backpack and shifting it again. "Go to work, Dad. I got this."
"I know." A warm smile and a wave bid the teenager goodbye as a bell rang in the distance. "Have a good day!"
There was a quick wave back before lightly tan sandals hit the pavement and disappeared in a sea of puberty.
Wow he's grown so much. The father thought, then corrected himself. She - she's grown so much.
With a heavy sigh, he waited and watched until the long, flowing locks disappeared indoors, looking for any signs of nerves or second-thoughts but seeing none.
One day I'll get it right.
Turning, he smiled and walked back towards their home, so conveniently close to the local high school. Not that he would ever tell Samantha he'd taken the day off to work from home. She'd never let him live that down. Drone Dad, indeed.
In the meantime...maybe he'd gotten enough right, at least for today.