I’m not butch. Androgynous, maybe. Not femme, but not butch either. I’ve never been a fan of the binary. It’s generational, I think. I remember sitting in Queer Studies courses and dismissing butch/femme dynamics. We all did. Sure there was the issue of imitating heteronormativity, but it was more than that. It seemed like some… Read More Butch as in not you
The night after Pulse, my parents called me. My step-mother was first. She held back tears. When my father called he simply wept. His grief was tangible and heavy. He didn’t know what to do with it and that was why he called me. As if sharing might ease his heartbreak. As if I wasn’t… Read More Act. Speak.
Last semester, the Queer Alliance I run was observed by a grad student. It sounds weird, but it wasn’t. She interviewed the kids and asked questions and brought them cookies and it was cool. The last question she asked me wasn’t fully formed. It had to do with the way I talk to the kids.… Read More The Incantation for Queer
I’m uncommon. It’s not just that I’m a gaymo. And it’s not just the masc of center gender presentation. It’s everything else. The dark sense of humor. The lack of social skills. The obsession with the way names are spelled. The dislike of human contact. I am an outsider. I’m always surprised when I hear… Read More Outsiders and Catharsis