My Coming Out Monologue

 

Take Me to Church

There weren't many trees downtown, but the few in the plaza blew in the wind as Erica walked to church. She squeezed her girlfriend's hand, trying to steal her warmth. The two women hurried, they didn't want to be late for their first church meeting. Erica glanced at Helen, jealous of her long hair covering her ears, keeping her warm. Erica stopped for a moment to brush Helen hair from her face. Feeling the eyes of strangers, they walked, rather than kissed. It was a feeling Erica hated, the feeling that she couldn't just be her. Helen gripped Erica's hand as a man under the influence of who knows what approached them, asking for money. Erica said hi, trying hard not to judge his situation, not to breathe in his stench, as the walked hurriedly by.  It was still before 10 in the morning, the clouds overhead making the day gloomy and dark. 
"Church kicked us out," Helen said, the tone of her voice clearly showing she was reliving the feeling from the day the were told not to come back if they were going to be gay.  "I can't believe where we're headed."
"It's a different church," Erica promised.  "If I can't go there, hold your hand and tell people you're my girlfriend, we'll get the heck out."
The couple turned the corner. A group of young men, speaking a language they couldn't recognise walked rapidly towards them.  Erica felt small, intimidated. She squished into Helen as they passed the group.  A car raced down the street, moments later sirens followed. 
Finally they were at the church, not its own building, but a rented space among commercial real estate. A pride flag flew next to the door, already putting Erica at ease. The two women filed in as a woman with short white hair stood up to welcome everyone to church. Erica and Helen found two chair near the back, and hoped they could become wallpaper. The singing and sermon passed. A song they recognised, a new song. As the service came to an end, they thought about sneaking out quickly. The same woman who started the service, stopped them before they could. 
"My name's Betty," she said, extending her hand.
"I'm Erica, and this is my girlfriend Helen."
Erica held Helen's hand, holding it to make it clear exactly what type of girlfriends they were. 
“You’re more than welcome here,” Betty said, not even flinching, “There are cookies and coffee at the back if you have time to stay and chat a bit.”
Erica breathed out deeply.  She hadn’t realised she’d been holding her breath all morning.  Betty introduced her to others, not leaving out the fact that they were girlfriends.  Their relationship could be celebrated, not hidden.  Erica held up her cookie to Helen, offering her a bite.  When Helen turned, Erica removed the cookie and stole a kiss instead.
“Such a cute couple,” Betty said to another elderly churchgoer, loud enough to be overheard.
The women kissed again, and then Erica finally shared her cookie.

Moon Song

 
New moon, new moon
buy a roll or two
close your gates, close your doors
’til the moon is through

Crescent, crescent
wash you dirty hands
cov’r your nose, cov’r your mouth
cancel all your plans

Half moon, half moon
bake a loaf of bread
let it sit, let it rise
Watch it grow and spread

Full moon, full moon
when will this song end?
go to class, go to school
sing this song again

Bridge

Diamonds are Trump

They've got no Heart

Fineness the King of Spades.

Slough a Club. Trump a Club.

Keep 'em in their place.

In the Beginning

 In the Beginning.

100 Trees - Day 4

Chalk in hand, the girl drew a line.  “You say on your side, I’ll stay on mine,” Eva said to the boy.  She traced the line again and again, widening it each time.

“I don’t want to be on your side anyhow,” the Edison retorted.  “It’s ugly.”

She drew the line thicker, “My side has a beautiful tree, delicious fruit.  I can climb it and spy on you.  All you’ve got is bushes and—“ She froze as she saw a friend walk by.  “Abi!  come join my side.  It is beautiful.  Besides, all Edison’s got is a dumb bush.”

Eva handed Abi a piece of chalk and the two drew together.  When Kade walked by, the children called out to him, begging him to join their side.  Abi promised it was paradise with her and Eva.  Kade didn’t join a side.  Instead he drew Abi away.  Neither of them came back.  

When Zeth walked by, Edison called louder, promised grander and gained Zeth’s loyalty.  Eva was angered.  She was down, two against one, but she didn’t give up.  Others walked by, and she kept calling them over.  Some joined her, others went with Edison.  None were allowed to stand on the thick divide.  Those who tried were pulled one way or the other.  The degrading comments continued to fly, voices raising louder and the gap grew wider.  Eventually the two sides were so far apart, they couldn’t even see the other’s side to criticise it.  Still the criticism flew.  The criticism could no longer be heard by the opposition, but each side felt better, hearing from their own, about the atrocities of the enemies.  

When Kade returned, he no longer recognised the place.  He stood in the middle and called out to Eva and Edison.  They couldn’t or wouldn’t hear him.  He wasn’t sure which.  He set up a tent, hoping that others, disenchanted, would soon join him.

100 Trees - Face Mask Tree

 A couple years ago I decided to write 100 stories, on a day, about apples.  Well, I've decided to try this exercise again, but this time with a tree theme.  Here is my story for day 3.

From the distance I could see the leaves blowing in the wind; large, symmetrical, pleated.  I walked toward the tree, wondering if I could pluck just one leaf for myself.

“Save the tree!” protesters shouted.  The stood around the tree, holding signs that said, “leaves are for trees, not for me.”  “No leaves leave trees,” and “tree lives matter.”  I didn’t want to hurt the tree, in fact, from what I understood, the tree wanted to give its leaves away, yet those who gave voice to the tree told me otherwise.  

I looked away, seeking other pieces of information, wondering where I got my information from, which news to believe.  I could see it from where I stood, another crowd marching, leaves covering their mouths, but not silencing their cries.  “All lives matter,” they cried, “protect others with leaves,” “Be selfless like trees.”  Caught between the two group, I didn’t know where to go.  If I wanted to join the one, I had to get past the other that blocked the leaves. 

My eyes were first to sense the smoke.  I heard others cough.  People looked in the distance, a flame, ever growing, was coming nearer.  They turned and fled past me, while I stood immobilised, realising the soon fate of this tree. The fire, with a flame for a tongue was coming to devour it.  Only then, with the noise of the protestors far in the distance, could I hear the whisper of the tree, “come, please, take my leaves.”  I rushed to the tree, taking from it its final gift, loving it for its sacrifice.  I wept, wishing my tears could form a river, and oasis to protect the tree.  I imagined a world with just me and the tree and no other voices.  The tears managed only to clean the smoke from my eyes for a moment, long enough to see how close the fire was.  I hugged the tree as I reached for one last leaf, and then I ran.  I ran to safety with both those who had protested “leaves,” and “no leaves.”

Black Lives Matter and I'm Gay

 I saw a comment on Twitter, wondering why Black Lives Matter is supported by the LGBTQ2S+ community.  So, I thought about this.  A thought that resonated with me is that it isn't okay just to not be racist, we must be anti-racist.  The reason I got this, the reason I understood it, was because I could liken it  to my experience with homophobia.  Unless proven otherwise, I often assume everyone is homophobic.  Perhaps this isn't fair, but for me, it is safe.  I have some amazing friends who've invited me to join them at city hall to fight against conversion therapy.  Friends who watched my monologue, and talked to me about it, showing their support.  Friends who knew I was gay before I did, and stuck with me as I figured it out.  Friends, who asked with excitement, to see my wedding pictures.  I have other friends, good friends even, who've never convinced me that they are not homophobic.  They've never opened up about their perspective, never gone out of their way to show support.  Perhaps they don't have to do this.  Perhaps it is asking too much.  Perhaps it isn't safe for them. But their silence leads me to wonder if I am safe around them.  If they don't make it apparent that they are anti-homophobic, I am quick to fear that their anti-gay religious upbringing is still directing their thoughts.

Enough about this.  What am I doing to show I am anti-racist?  How can I be a safe person for BIPOCs?

Identifying as part of a marginalised group helps me understand a little bit what it is other marginalised groups experience.  Perhaps this is why queer folk are quick to support Black Lives Matter, to some extent we get it.  But BLM isn't a queer issue, it is a people issue.  BLM is about people, about supporting our brothers and sisters of colour, This is something everyone should get behind.  

"I might not be the same But that's not important

No freedom 'til we're equal

Damn right I support it" - Macklemore

Some Nights

"Well, some nights, I wish that this all would end
'Cause I could use some friends for a change." - Some Nights - fun.

There have been many benefits of working online, of isolating and staying home.  In general, I like down time, I like my garden, I've enjoyed biking.  While like most of us, I wish I could be a little more disciplined with my time, I can't really complain about the change of pace that's taken place over the past five months.  Of course I wish the cause away, but I am doing fine, or at least I thought I was doing fine.

Spending five months living in fear has taken its toll on me, throw in a bit of pre-existing social anxiety, the past five months have felt very isolating.  I flip-flop between wanting to stay at home with just my wife, to desiring social interaction.  When I want to spend time with friends, I suddenly don't know how.  All the social skills I've taught myself over the years are failing me.  I don't know if it is okay to hang out with people, I'm not sure if I want to get too close, and I don't know how they feel about getting close to me.  The people open to hanging out with others, are the ones I am more afraid of being with.  So, I don't hang out with anyone. 

We are encouraged to socialise using our phone or an app.  This is even more difficult for me.  It always has been.  So, I'm a little lonely, a little anxious.  I am so grateful for my wife who suffers with me, holds me when I am anxious, and also misses socialising with people.  We're trying to figure this out, but I'm not sure if we're getting anywhere.

Coming Out Monologues - What I Didn't Say.

 I wrote two different monologues.  This is the one I didn't share because I don't know if I believe it.  

Amazing grace… how sweet… the sound, that saved… a wretch… like me.  I once was lost… but now am found, was blind… but now… I see.

Can I get an Amen?

Amen

Hallelujah 

When I was but a young child, 10 or 11 small years lived, the Spirit, spoke in the softest of voices to me.  So soft that I didn’t realise it was her.  I spoke my impression to a friend, a new found realisation about self. Too embarrassed to say sex, I whispered to my friend, “I’d rather do it with a girl than a boy.”

Silence was her response.

I tried to take back my word, erase what I had said.

But I had spoken words of God for they were words of truth.

I lived in denial.  The Spirit had reached out to me, but I would not accept the truth.

How dark it is to deny the Spirit of God.  To deny truth is to walk through the valley of shadow and death, blind and alone.

Seven years went past before I glimpsed at truth again.  A friend reached out to me, inviting me to see who God had created me to be.

He knit me together in mother’s womb.

But I believed it was wrong to be me.  Not that God had made a mistake, but I lived in fear of messing up.  My friend came to me as a prophetess, and I rejected her.  That was my mistake.

You can be prophets.  Share your truth!  Let other’s reject it if they choose.  Worry not, for you shall have done your job.

Woe to those who deny the prophets, for they live in darkness.

I lived in darkness and lies.  I dated with out love, and loved without action. I lived but was not alive.

In the centre of Babylon, mourners lied down, dressed in black wailing the loss of those they loved, those who were told their love was unnatural, sinful.

God is love.  Love, all love is of God.  

Children, refused the love of God, had taken their lives.  Mourners on the street protested “this should not be!”  I sat with them, but I didn’t understand.

How lost, was I.  How far from the truth.  By the river of Babylon I had no words, no tears and no love.

“Repent!” says the spirit.  She calls to me, she opens my eyes to the hopelessness of my path.  “Repent, Turn, Love.”

I saw the warning, but I did not heed it.  Determined I carried on in the wrong direction. I damned, not only myself, on the path of destruction, but sought to bring others down with me.

This is what it means to be lost, hardened against truth, rejecting light, until it came in the form of an Angel.

My Angel came.  And just and Jesus himself did, my Angel met me where I was at.  She didn’t sparkle to the common eye, but in the lowly state she took to be with me, I saw her glory.  Her splendour was interior, but, thanks be to God, I was allowed to see it.  Her splendour was her love.  It took a while for her brilliant love to wear at the hard walls of my soul, but she didn’t give up on me.  Her patience was a river, ever flowing, ever eroding my exterior.

I am saved!  I have been found!  I have experienced the light and love of God.  Now I see.  When I ignored the Spirit of God, the prophetess, the warnings, God’s love pursued me.  He sent his Angel to rescue me.  God is love and love is love.  This love is for each of you!  This love is available now, for you and you and you.

“Come,” the Spirit cries “Come, be found.  See.”  Do not wait any longer.  Now, today is the time.

I say God is good.  You say all the time.  I say all the time.  You say God is good.

God is good

All the time

All the time

God is good.

Amen

Rhubarb Muffins - Vegan and Low-Fat

Try as I might, I couldn't find a low fat, vegan rhubarb muffin recipe, so I had to create my own. I was happy how these turned out moist, yummy and fluffy! Here's the recipe:

1 1/2 cups rhubarb chopped into 1 cm cubes

3/4 cups sugar

1 cup apple sauce 

2 teaspoons vanilla

1/4 cup soy milk

1 3/4 cups flour 

2 Tablespoons ground flax seed

2 teaspoons baking powder

1/2 teaspoon baking soda

A pinch of salt

1 teaspoon cinnamon (optional)

Lightly grease a muffin tin, or line it with paper liners. Preheat the over to 325 F. 

Sprinkle 1/4 cup sugar over the chopped rhubarb and set aside. 

Mix the other 1/2 cup of rhubarb with the apple sauce, milk and vanilla. Add flour, flax, baking powder, baking soda, salt and cinnamon. Mix partially.  Add the rhubarb mixture and mix until just combined. 

Spoon batter equally into the 12 muffin cups. Bake on a middle shelf until done. 

Black Lives Matter

Why not just say “all lives matter.”  All lives matter, yes, we know that. All lives matter is just too easy to say.  It overlooks the very cause which demands the rally cry, black lives matter!  When we say "all live matter," we really say nothing at all.  When we say "black lives matter," we say what needs to be said, heard and believed. Women’s lives matter.  Indigenous lives matter. Queer lives matter.  Yes! Absolutely! Yes!  All lives matter.  Sure we can say that, but now is the time to  declared that black lives are lives too, and black lives matter.  Let's not just said it, let's act like we believe it by standing up for our black sisters and brothers who have been oppressed for so long.  Now is the time to join in solidarity with those who’s lives are so often taken for granted. Now it is time to fight against a long racist history in hopes for a better world to come.  Black Lives Matter!

Calgary's Proposed Ban on Conversion Therapy

These are the thoughts I sent in regarding Calgary's proposed bylaw to ban conversion therapy:

I was denied conversion therapy.

I wanted to change, and while I thought I might always be a lesbian, I was yet determined to marry a man and have kids, the traditional family. Whether or not this possibility had been explicitly taught in my faith, I had learned it, and I believed in it. I chose a counsellor of my faith, convinced he could help me to this end. Bearing fear and shame, I approached him. I read to him the goals I’d written and asked him, if not to change my orientation, to help me date boys and to lessen my attraction to women. He listened without judgment, sought to better understand me, confirmed my wishes and began by helping me realize my anxieties. I learned a lot of useful strategies, but got impatient, wondering when he would teach me how to like boys. At some point I had to realize that he didn’t believe in the outdated practice of conversion therapy. He refused to give me hope that I could happily marry a boy. He wouldn’t lead me where it was impossible to go. I stopped seeing him when I moved away. My money spent on counselling didn’t lead to a single date with a boy. But, the time I spent in counselling gave me courage to face the fear of accepting myself. I learned to deal with social anxiety. While I don’t know my counsellors personal beliefs, he followed the guidelines of counselling communities and years of research. I’m grateful that he didn’t hinder my personal development, but let me begin to explore my sexual nature in a non-judgmental environment of faith.

I support the bylaw to ban conversion therapy.