She Asked: FREEDOM OR A SLIPPERY SLOPE TO MORE?

FOREWORD: My attention was brought to a recent Facebook post updated by a female, Eketi Ette. I read it, and I decided to share. Read and of course, let us know what you think.

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A few days ago, cyberspace was in a furore over a certain Bruce that has become a Caitlyn. Some little children somewhere now have two grandmothers, instead of a Grandpa and a Grandma. I’ve got one word for those children: confusion.

Messages of congratulations poured in from every quarter; many people hailed this man for his supposed act of bravery; for “refusing to hide any longer” and others for “finally being his true self.” A lot of people said, “If it makes him happy, then I’m glad.” I wonder why many didn’t extend the same courtesy to Michael Jackson and Dencia.

A VERSE TO COMPLAINERS

The following are true stories.

On the 26th of May, 2003, Aron Ralston was hiking when a boulder fell on his right hand. He waited four days, and then amputated his arm with a pocket knife.

On New Year’s Eve, a woman was bungee-jumping in Zimbabwe. The cord broke, and she fell into a river and had to swim back to land through the crocodile-infested waters with a broken collarbone.

Claire Champlin was smashed in the face by a five-pound watermelon being propelled by a slingshot.

Matthew Brobst was hit by a javelin.

David Striegl was punched in the mouth. By a kangaroo.

The most amazing part about these stories is when asked about the experience they all smiled, shrugged, and said, “I guess things could have been worse.”

So go ahead.

LOVE AND SEX IN THE CITY (Episode 28)

“You skanky bitch!”

“I know, right,” I said with a chuckle, missing the venom in Adebola’s voice and misreading good humour in his words.

“You scheming little bitch!” he said caustically.

This time, I didn’t miss it. My head snapped around to face him and my eyes narrowed. “I beg your pardon?” I said.

“You guys never have enough, do you?” Adebola seethed. “You just can’t respect boundaries, can you?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Bryson is my friend! My friend! And it was that friendship you ruined when you trotted your ass, like the shameless slut you are, in his face!”

“Excuse me!” I snapped, feeling my temper ignite. “Who the hell are you calling a shameless slut? And speaking of that night, perhaps you’d like to tell us next that it is possible for a dude to force his ass down on someone else’s dick when he’s not consenting!”

“You guys just can’t learn to leave my associations alone!” Adebola roared.

The Struggle With Validation

Like every other homosexual person, I had a truckload of esteem related issues. As a child, I always sought validation from my dad, who I never got along with. Looking back, I think on some level, he knew I was different and felt he could beat it out of me. So I struggled to earn the love that I wasn’t getting by trying to change and conform as best as I could. My life became about seeking validation and acceptance. I stopped living and started existing for family, friends, and community, and in a way, the society.

I lost myself in the process.

My dreams and aspirations took a back seat. I became obsessed with doing things that the world considered as “normal and acceptable”, from what to study and eventually studying a completely alien course, to just doing everything it took to be considered as one of the boys. I lost me.

With my obsession to please came a deep sense of loss, depression, paranoia and the feeling of constant bitterness. I became dark and moody. I morphed into a loner and kept to myself because I got frustrated with trying to please, but never doing enough regardless of how much I tried and sacrificed. I became good at playing the role of Number 2. You know, the good boy who is good friends with the notorious guy in school or in the neighborhood, the guy who rolls with the It crowd in class, but still manages to blend well with the geeks. All this was to help me not stand out. Standing out would attract attention, and attention would show that I was different.

The Unfortunate Case Of Leelah Alcorn

Seventeen years ago in Kings Mills, Ohio, a child was born into the Family of Mr. and Mrs. Alcorn. They named him Joshua. As a young child, Joshua was unusual; he was effeminate and loved to play in girl’s clothing. He loved dolls, long hair and other things that females are normally inclined to. At the age of four, he started feeling like a girl trapped in a boy’s body.

The family attended the Northeast Church of Christ in Cincinnati and Joshua was raised in a strict Christian home and was constantly fed with what most of our parents filled or do still fill us with – several doses of religious doctrines and ample bible texts.

At the age of fourteen, after several years of emotional torture living in the closet, he decided enough was enough, and decided to come out to his parents. He did and got a stern negative reaction from them. He also made it known to them that he wanted to be referred to as ‘she’ and Leelah, not Joshua.

SOMETHING THAT GIVES YOU JOY

It’s been a couple of years since my parents started nagging me over the issue of marriage. I hadn’t even got a job the first time they brought it up. I suppose a bunch of factors contributed to their hastiness, one of them being that I am the first child. And another being that I lost one of my brothers to a violent death some years ago, and on some deep level, his demise serves as a constant reminder to my parents that life is too short. My brother’s death serves as a reminder to me too, that life is too short. And my parents and I interpret this reminder in ways that differ, one from the other.

It makes me want to live my life according to my own dictates.

It makes them want me to get settled fast – a wife and kids in quick succession.

And a couple of years ago, when I was unemployed and they brought up the issue of marriage, despite my aversion to their concerns, I very kindly offered them an excuse – my lack of employment. That seemed to grant me a reprieve from their agitation.

Then I got a job. And they called again.

LIVE YOUR LIFE

FOREWORD: Today is World AIDS Day – a day to celebrate the promise of the day when the world will be completely free of new HIV infections, discrimination against HIV patients and AIDS related deaths. That day hasn’t come yet, but as a humanity that thrives on hope, we hold on to the promise and create the awareness of its purpose.

To mark this year’s World AIDS Day, I want to share a verse I wrote a while ago, which seemed suitable for the commemoration. Read, share your thoughts and educate someone you know.

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Life is a psychopath, a bully and rarely fair

It’s going to push you over, kick you while you’re down

And hit you when you try to get back up

But your victory comes when you’re not beaten

Listen to your heart, follow your dreams

And let no one tell you what you’re capable of

Push the limits, bend the rules

And enjoy every minute of it

The Boy I Never Had (Part 2)

My phone beeped as a text message came in. My pulse quickened as my heart sank. I shook off the feeling of dread that settled on me and opened the text. It was from Timi. The words I read chilled my blood instantly.

I think you misunderstood my soft nature and gestures. I am not what you think I am. A guy falling for a guy? Seriously, this is crazy. I’m not into your demeaning lifestyle.

In that instant, I felt like I had just been slammed by a fully-loaded truck traveling at full speed. The blood in my veins turned to ice. My brain reeled and raced in a wild jumble of thoughts. What did I miss? How did this happen? Perhaps it wasn’t him sending this horrible text… There was just no way on earth the caring, loving guy I had been spending so much time with and who gave off all those positive vibes could be sending such a horrible message. I was in a state of shock and disbelief for several long minutes.

And then, I snapped out of it and went into a defensive mode. And I did something I never thought I’d ever do. I denied my sexuality. Rashly and without much thought, I composed a text: I’m sorry if my text made you uncomfortable, I’m not gay, I just have a tendency to form strong emotional connections with anyone (boy or girl).

As I pressed the send button, a part of me realized that I was making a mistake and further complicating issues. His reply came soon after, and before long, we were engaged in a series of back-and-forth texts.

FUCK LIFE. BE HAPPY

Life is serious, never take her seriously.

You’ve got to learn how to laugh, how to be happy. You’ve got to have a support system to help you navigate her waters – friends, families, Alcoholic Anonymous, Ku Ku Klux gang… Whatever floats your boat.

Learn to take the bad moments in stride and be quick to get out of its funk. We all know we’re never getting out of her grip alive anyway, so why would you want to die inside before you’re dead outside.

Treat life kindly, laugh with her and at her. She might be tough but she sure understands how to take a chill pill and give you a bit of space. Laugh at yourself, learn to take your blows before the world throws theirs.

Photos: Gay Loving At The Beach

How is it fair that two gorgeous men like this can look so hot and so in love and be enjoying themselves by themselves, hmm? Oh well, the gay couple above shared pictures of themselves sharing ‘love’ time at South Beach. That light-skinned one (the madam, I’d like to think) sure looks deliriously happy. I’d be happy too, if I had a hunk like his squeezing me in his powerful arms. #sigh

More pictures below.