Hey You… We’re All Entitled To A Fucking Pulse!

In the wake of this latest bit of proof of, “just what one human being can do to another” (or in this case, many others) so many conversations are being sparked. This is a very good thing. Even as what is being voiced by some is enough to make one not only shake one’s head in utter disbelief, but certainly enough to bring full scary understanding of just what hatred looks like… it is still a very good thing.

Like you, I have heard raw grief and outrage expressed at the mass taking of so many innocent lives and, I have heard some say that, “Those gays got what they deserved!” or, “This is what happens when you go against God’s word!” Before I address those people, let me say this, “To the families and friends of those who have lost their lives in Orlando on Sunday, June 12th please know that I share your profound grief. I cannot begin to touch those places in your soul where this pain lives, but please know if I could, I would reach in and remove some of it. There is no true God that had any hand in this massacre, nor did your loved ones do anything wrong and did not deserve this. Despite the hatred that is still being spewed, know that the only person to blame is that one man (and I will never dignify him by penning his name) and those that not only shared his ignorance, but those who may have fueled his hatred either by example or rhetoric.”

This weekend the LGBTQ community celebrated Pride. I was there. I was there in support of my family and friends who are gay. I was there to lend my solidarity to those who suffer daily at the hands and by the mouths of those who deem themselves their so-called God’s “soldiers”. I was there because I am a bi-sexual woman who rejects the notion that all someone chooses to see, to acknowledge, to judge, to rate me by is my choice to either take a man or a woman to my bed. Into my heart. I refuse to appease anyone’s foolish and destructive sensibilities that prefer my story to read, “Domestic abuse survivor at the hands of a man” instead of, “Thoroughly loved, cherished, honored and respected by the heart of a woman.” Foolish.

At this stage in life, I am sadly becoming used to the lows we choose to sink to with regard to our treatment of others. But, I admit this latest bit of madness shocked the shit out of me! Let’s address this. Would someone, anyone please explain to me how another person’s choice in whom they love impacts another’s life? Enough to maim, bully or kill? How did our world become so much more accepting of heterosexual abuse than homosexual love? Who crafted this world where I have license to carry a gun, but not the license to fall in love with someone with a vagina? What about homosexuality terrifies some of you people so very much?!

People died. This time, forty-nine people died and many others wounded because one man pulled the trigger, but many of our names are engraved on those bullets. The “gay” jokes must stop. Not only are they not funny, but you’re belittling yourself telling them. For every, “She must not have ever had any good dick” joke, personally if I wanted to be just as petty and crass I could counter with, “Why yes indeed I have. But I have also had better pussy.” See? No longer funny. Crass. For every “Faggot, buller-man, batty-man” name you could call a man who enjoys the sex and love of another man, for every rendition of the female part you could derogatorily refer to them, I could again counter with the reality that it was a supposed tough, manly, heterosexual man who attempted to torment and kill me. So I ask, “Just who is the real pussy there?!”

Stop. Whom someone chooses to love and to share their intimacy with is so none of our goddamned business. Please stop letting your lack of any partner to love project onto someone else’s choices. Allow others the same freedoms you cherish for yourself. Quite frankly, only when you stop fornicating, stealing, lying, sinning, being greedy, dishonest and selfish will you have the right to judge. “Perfection” belongs to God; the rest of us, straight you, bent me and my friends in the LGBTQ community are all just a bunch of bumbling fools put here to love and have the time of our lives… with whomthefuckever we choose!

These killings have made me angry. Incredibly so. I am tired of some of your hatred and cowardice. I pity your inability to love yourselves enough to leave me and anyone else that has the right to answer solely to ourselves and God, alone. Understand please that my choices, like yours, are private. My right to choose whom to love should be as insignificant to you as your choice of car, food, home, shirt or skirt is to me.

And, it should never be worth killing for.

Being gay isn’t a choice. But being a bigot certainly is…”


When Life Gives You A Lemon … Please, Come To Their Ade.

Last evening, I was among the fortunate to take in the wonder that is Beyonce. As I sat in my great seat, keeping one wary eye on the sky and the other on the stage, hundreds of conflicting thoughts tumbled through my mind. At the end of the evening (and still now), I admit to have walked away disappointed (I know… you just reread the first line to make sure I did say I was at a Beyonce concert!). Yes, I was. And yes, I was.

Naturally I needed to sit quietly and let my thoughts manifest enough to ascertain just what could have been my problem. I acknowledged my irritation that she came on an hour and a half later than her scheduled 8:30pm start time. But, that’s not it (I realized she is human and could had been having diarrhea). I conceded to being disappointed at her barely three-inch stocky heels (when she did wear heels). But even as I expected better (aka, higher), that too is not the source of my lingering unease. She certainly did her thing – looked fantastic! Gyrated, flirted and played like only she can. Check. Check. And check. So, what about watching this woman perform could have so left me feeling sad and disappointed?

Him. It took me until a little ago to realize that watching and listening to this woman share her story of betrayal and heartache was something I would have preferred to have done without witnessing. Don’t get me wrong… naturally I applaud and encourage expression. And, raw honesty. So, my problem is not with the fact she shared. My disappointment stems from the reality that there was something to share.

Naturally I heard the furor over Lemonade. I did not watch the documentary, nor had I listened to the music. Intentionally. You see, another woman telling of her pain – caused by infidelity or betrayal – is a story that is both familiar and too common. The whole world could join the crusade to determine just who “Becky” is; but I am more concerned with how many “Beyonces” there are out here.

Her story is not unfamiliar. So as I sat there last evening watching her smile for us, determined to give us our money’s worth and then some, I couldn’t help but to attempt to look past the smiles to try to determine just what was being hidden there. I’m a woman, so I immediately checked her left hand for her ring; none. I remember spending some time thinking that a ring could never constrict as much as the noose he placed around her heart. I remember saying out loud, “I hate him!” (And for all you men out there please… even as I admit to not knowing the intricacies of their relationship, I stand by and sit down next to this, “There is never any reason to justify infidelity!”).

So I was/am disappointed. Her concert was peppered with too much of their story; and as much as I adore her and respect her “hustle”, listening to her sing about too many of our heartaches shouldn’t have costed $350+ per ticket (shit! Y’all can get it for free from me!).

So today, post-Beyonce, I am left to wonder at what point do we humans challenge ourselves to do better? To be better? When do we push to stop seeing just what we could get away with and instead see just what we could get to stay with? You see, we all know better. We know better than to steal, to cheat, to denigrate, to belittle, to abuse, to humiliate, to lie. If we didn’t, we wouldn’t opt to do them under cover. If we didn’t know they went against not only what our God had intended, but certainly against what our partners, employers, elders, loved ones deserved, we would do them with pride. So, when do we stop?

I refrain from parroting what so many have said, “When your woman is Beyonce, what else could you want?” for two reasons: (1) there is a fantastic quote that says, “Show me a beautiful woman and I will showResized_20160607_233314 you someone somewhere who is tired of her…” and (2) I am not so silly that I believe only beautiful, successful women should be exempt from being ill-treated! Big, small, fat, tall, skinny, rich, poor, black, white, sick, healthy, nice-ass, flat, breasts, bumps, God-fearing, sinner… sadly we are all “Beyonces”!

Another woman got hurt. She has been humiliated. She has decided to share her pain in an effort to heal… herself and us. I applaud her for that. I wish for her the strength to not internalize. To lay the responsibility right where it belongs. To not wear it on herself. I encourage her, as I encourage all women, “Forget “Becky”; deal with the Bastard at home”!

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