Poem–“So, I’m a Sin”

A timely poem since it’s Pride Month and I wrote it last week in response to a meme someone posted on Facebook. It said something to the effect that we should be spending the month celebrating God rather than celebrating sin. My immediate response was, “So, I’m a sin, huh?”

Then I unfriended them and started working on this poem.

You could say that I helped them by removing a sin from their life.

It’s nothing fancy. Just my usual free verse style.

Stay queer, my dears.

So, I’m a Sin

So, I’m a sin.

Sent by God to test you,
the Devil to tempt you,
man to corrupt you.
I’m a challenge and an insult
to your great faith.
My very existence is a
disturbance, a slight
to your Jesus.

So, I’m a sin.

My ticket already punched for Hell,
I’m just looking for someone to
road trip there with me.
My pleas to be accorded the same rights
you covet like a precious hoard?
A clever ruse to get you in the handbasket with me.
A trick only the Devil could play,
that only a sin could play.

So, I’m a sin.

Preying on your Good Christian sensibilities
of love the sinner, hate the sin.
Because the sin and the sinner are so close
you can’t tell one from the other,
and you’re not willing to risk your afterlife
on getting the difference wrong.
You won’t waste your Good Christian kindness
on a person you’d rather judge.

So, I’m a sin.

I spend a whole month, thirty days start to finish,
celebrating my continued existence in spite
rather than giving glory to your god,
a god that you say loves me, made me in his image,
and wants to punish me
for embodying his design.
You want me to celebrate a god
who’s already condemned me? Please.

So, I’m a sin.

Mortal. Unforgivable.
Unapologetic. Unrepentant.
Just as your God created.
Just as your God intended.
A final exam that you failed.
Yes, I’m going to hell,
my Good Christian,
and I’ll see you there.

The Bisexual Journey Continues

Christin aka Kiki is a middle aged white woman with short, dark pink hair. She's holding up a bi pride flag in such a way that it shows off her rainbow pride ring and obscures her mouth and nose.I’m forty-five years old. I came out as bisexual at seventeen. I knew from a young age that I was into both men and women.

It’s very easy to assume that my sexuality journey was short, sweet, and to the point. There’s nothing more to learn. Like those concrete heterosexuals, I knew from a young age that I was 50/50 on my bi-ness. Done and dusted.

For some people, that is very true. The journey is more like a trip to the mailbox. Got my info. I’m good to go. And I thought that was what my journey was. I had myself sorted from a young age. I was good to go.

But that’s not quite how it worked out for me.

When it comes to my own bisexuality, I find myself regularly checking in to verify that I’m still bisexual. After all, there’s a lot of messaging from both the queer and straight communities that bisexuality isn’t valid. Maybe I am confused. Maybe I’m pretending to be something I’m not. But every check-in has verified my bisexual identity so far. Sorry, haters.

As I’ve gone through my life, the questioning has continued in light of other people’s journeys intersecting with mine and my continuing education in and from the queer community. Am I attracted to trans people? Am I attracted to non-binary people? What does it mean if I am or if I’m not?

I’ve adjusted my identity a little as result of my answers to these questions. Trans men are men and trans women are women, so they fall in my already determined attraction categories. I’ve also found myself occasionally attracted to people who identify as non-binary, gender fluid, or agender. While I still use the bisexual label, I will also refer to myself as Bi+ or queer. Pansexual might apply, but it doesn’t feel right for me, so I don’t use it.

Recently, I had an epiphany that has once again altered my self-perception a little, a shift within my bisexual identity.

Quick recap: Sexuality is who you are sexually attracted to. Romantic attraction is who you’re romantically attracted to. Sexual attraction and romantic attraction often match up, but not always. In my case, I always thought that they did. I considered myself 50/50 sexually attracted to men and women, and 50/50 romantically attracted to men and women. Bisexual, bi romantic.

Turns out, that’s not entirely accurate.

I am bisexual and I am bi romantic, but it’s not the 50/50 split I always thought it was.

I’m not exactly sure what the process was that led me to this realization. Like I said, it was something of an epiphany. Whatever the case, it occurred to me that I’m actually more sexually attracted to women and I’m more romantically attracted to men.

In retrospect, this is obvious. I knew I was attracted to women before I realized I was attracted to men, yet most of my romantic crushes were on guys. It’s easier for me to find women attractive than it is for me to find men attractive. But when I think about having a partner, I think about that partner being a man more often than I think about them being a woman. Part of that could be latent heteronormative conditioning, but I think it’s more just how my romantic attraction works.

I look forward to exploring this new found understanding of myself.

Another twist on the journey I thought I’d finished.

I’m Queer (Even If I Don’t Always Feel Like I Am)

I don’t remember what I was going to write when I first conceived of this blog post idea (I probably should have made some notes because, no self, you’re not going to remember it later), so let’s just write a bunch of queer thoughts, shall we?

I’ve been out as a bisexual since I was 17. I’ve gotten more confident in my sexuality in the ensuing years, but I still question myself. I’ve been single a long time and I have even less relationship experience with women than I do with men. Sometimes I ask myself, “Do I really like girls?” And then I’ll see a beautiful woman and once I stop thinking very unclean thoughts, I say, “Yeah, no, I definitely like girls.”

I’ve got Pride flags (progress and bi), Pride rings (rainbow and bi), an obnoxious Pride shirt that says “Let Me Be Perfectly Queer”, and yet, I’ve never been to a Pride event. Never been to a parade. Never even been to a gay bar. I would love to experience all of those things. I don’t have a bucket list, but it’s safe to say they’re all on my Long-Term To Do List.

I think there are several reasons why I haven’t engaged more with the queer community in the physical, aside from the fact that I’m introvertedly inclined and therefore require more energy to participate in social situations. I think part of it is my bisexual insecurity of not being queer enough to be in those spaces. I think the other part is not having very many queer associates in my meat space. I don’t exactly have folks around that I go can go to these things with, which would make that easier for me. Yes, dears, it’s always about my comfort.

Being out and not having very many queer associates in the immediate vicinity means that I’m often the token queer in my friends groups, at certain family events, and at work. I am often the queer education center of those people, answering their questions and trying to provide them with accurate info. I’m also the one who feels responsible to correct them even when they don’t ask for it. I will correct folks on someone’s pronouns and I will call folks out for their homophobic jokes and I will explain in excruciating detail everything I know about trans folks. Why? Because apparently some knowledge needs to administered against people’s will. Learn it or continue to have me ruin the vibe by being a buzzkilling well-actually.

Do I always want to be the queer answer-person in these situations? No. Do I always want to be the queer existence enforcer? No. Sometimes I’m tired and I don’t feel like being the only bisexual you know. But I’m the only bisexual you know, so I have a duty to uphold.

And what’s really wild is that I don’t always feel queer enough to be that person. That I haven’t had enough of the first-hand queer experience to be that guy.

I have been very fortunate to find a queer community online, starting back in the long, long ago of the early days of the internets when we were all communicating on message boards and AIM and LiveJournal. I’ve had the privilege of witnessing the journeys of many groovy people as they evolved through labels until finding the ones that fit. I’ve gotten to witness the expansion of the queer community -as well as the bullshit gatekeeping within it. I’ve gotten to fully immerse myself in an online queer experience to such an extent that I forget -for a second- that not everyone is queer. That being part of the rainbow isn’t the default. I guess this is how straight, cis people feel moving through the world.

I suppose I wrote all of this to say I’m here, I’m queer, I will be gay and do crimes, I will let my freak flag fly, and I’m bi and I exist. Even when I don’t always feel like it.

Happy Pride.

Your Career Queer Auntie’s Guide to Life

“I don’t know what I’d do if my kid came out as gay/lesbian/queer/non-binary/trans.”

Good news! As your Career Queer Auntie, I’m here to help! I have decades of experience as both an auntie and a bi+ woman. I’m the person you come to when you have questions about life, and somehow gender and sexuality have become a specialty. If I don’t know the answer, I can find it for you.

So let me help you out when it comes to dealing with a queer kid.

My main job as an auntie is to guide my niblings through life. I accept them for who they are and show them how to navigate the world as themselves. My job is to learn them up, not change them or judge them. Which means I answer their questions honestly. Age appropriately, of course, but honestly.

Because I can do that as an auntie. I have that privilege. Because I don’t have the hang-ups that parents have. I don’t have to worry about what the neighbors think or how I’m paying for college or making them clean their rooms or whether or not they can eat ice cream for breakfast or whether or not they’ll live up to the ideals and expectations I have for them. I’m free of all of that.

It’s that last part that gives me a unique perspective. Because these young things are not genetic off-shoots of myself, I have no skin in the society achievement game. I don’t have to worry about any missed milestones. I can focus on the kids’ happiness. That’s my main concern. Their happiness and their safety.

So here’s how to love your hypothetical queer kids like a Career Queer Auntie.

1- Respect the journey. Because it is a journey. Not everyone is blessed with an automatic knowing of who they are. And the coming out isn’t necessarily the end of their journey. For some it’s the public start. What feels right -or close- then might change later as the kid matures, grows, acquires experiences.

One common misconception about bisexuals is that we haven’t chosen a team yet. This is based in some reality because many people initially come out as bisexual only to later identify as gay or lesbian. Part of that is because the insistence of the heterosexual norm which leads people to cling to the idea that they’re attracted to the opposite sex when they’re not.

But this sort of thing also happens with the enforcement of a gender binary and the idea that sex is solely biological. That sets people up for a trip to find out identifiers that work for them.

Be prepared to go on that journey with them.

2- Use their pronouns. It is amazing how many people have such difficulty with this when it’s really the easiest thing in the world to do. It feels like an affront to have a child tell an adult who they are and request they be addressed as such. Especially if you’re the adult responsible for their existence. It feels like a violation of the power dynamic.

Well, get over yourself.

Showing a kid respect costs you nothing and is worth everything to them. A sincere effort to use their pronouns, to correct yourself without complaint, and to correct others can mean the difference to a kid struggling to establish their identity.

3- Call them by the names they want to be called by. Second verse, same as the first. It’s another easy thing that adults can do, but absolutely resist. Especially if you’re the adult that gave the kid their name in the first place. But if a name is tied to an identity, it makes sense for a person to pick their own. Even the allo cis hets are entitled to that.

4- Understand that it’s not one-size fits all. Not every trans person feels the need to have transitions surgery. Not every non-binary person is androgynous or uses they/them pronouns. Not every gay guy is effeminate. Not every lesbian is butch. Not every asexual is sex averse. Not every bisexual is 50/50 in their attraction. And so on. And so on. Just like there are all kinds of allo cis het people, there are all kinds of queer people. Don’t expect the kid -any kid- to fit in a box. Those labels are for them to express and identify themselves. Not for you to find another way to dictate their existence.

5- Educate yourself. You could say that a lot of my own education was acquired during my own journey as a bi+ woman, but I didn’t stop there with my education. To be the most supportive auntie I can be, I have to keep myself in the loop.

Do not put the burden of your ignorance on the kid. They can inform you about their experience, but that broader knowledge base that you’re looking for to help better your understanding needs to be acquired on your own. There are plenty of reliable online resources that can help.

6- Your understanding is not a condition of acceptance. You don’t have to completely understand the specifics of a kid’s identity to accept it. My go-to example for this is furries. I do not get it, cannot process it. But guess what? So long as everybody is consenting and happy, I’m cool with it. I will honor your fursona. Because it’s not about me.

You don’t have to understand non-binary to accept a non-binary kid and use their pronouns and name. Because it’s not about you.

And that’s really the core to loving your kids like a Career Queer Auntie. Understanding that it’s not about you.

Now take all of these guidelines to loving your hypothetical queer kid and apply them to your real queer kid. Then apply them to all queer kids. States are passing laws like “Don’t Say Gay” and barring healthcare for trans kids under the guise of protecting the children, but really it’s because it makes these grown ass bigots feel uncomfortable. These laws will not make kids straight or cis.

It will make them dead.

And that’s the point.

Your ultimate job -as a parent, as an uncle/auntie/untie/auncle, as an adult, as a human being- is to make those kids -all kids- feel safe.

Because the world won’t.