Tag Archives: acceptance revolution

11/19/2012

Rearrange Again: Thoughts on Sexual Renegotiation and Privilege or “I’m Coming Out…But DO I Want the World to Know?”

By Acceptance Revolution

I remember watching Luminous (the seventh episode of Showtime’s The L Word, circa season two) and really relating to this one particular scene where the character Jenny Schecter goes off on an impassioned diatribe over the way a guy in her creative writing class has portrayed women in his latest piece: “Because … you basically turn them into these nameless, faceless, body part whores… Your main character, Jasmine, she, like, opens up Madelaine’s world by giving her the best fucking orgasm she’s ever had, which, I don’t know if you know this, is the primary sex act that two women can actually have! And then you go ahead, and you belittle it by turning it into pornography, and I think that the reason why you’re doing this is because men can’t handle it, the fact that these women can have this amazing, fucking, beautiful, mind-blowing orgasm, without a fucking cock!”

This is the season where Jenny’s character is first coming out, and – as clearly evidenced in that monologue – she does so in a completely balls to the wall, in-your-face manner… and it made me smile, because when I first started exploring my own attraction to women in my late teens, I was exactly the same way. Growing up with my hardcore religious mom and feeling like I already fell short of her expectations anyway, just by being me, I went the rebellion route with a lot of things, and my coming out was very much that in-your-face display of defiance against both the pain of that rejection and my upbringing in general. I talked about it constantly, read every piece of lesbian literature I could get my hands on, and engaged in mixed company PDA’s with my girlfriend for the sole purpose of sparking double takes and reactions. And of course, eventually I outgrew that behavior… but in the interim, when I was so defiantly focused on inciting the response, it either left me immune to or, perhaps, simply didn’t leave room for the feeling of being on the receiving end of those outside perceptions and judgments that I think many people struggle with during their coming out years.

Later on, I experienced outside perceptions and judgments to a degree when I initially felt the need to justify to a couple of girls who asked me why my ex and I were at the gay bar if we were “straight” that we were cool and still “belonged” there because he was FtM . But with the exception of that one incident, the majority of outside perception and judgment was pretty nonexistent when I was with him. I was still open about who I was and who I loved to a certain extent, researching and writing on trans issues for several school assignments, and sometimes (though not quite with Jenny Schecter level flair, force, and fire) taking it upon myself to put makers of exceptionally ignorant or intolerant remarks during class discussions in their place or to provide mini sex and gender education 101 lessons to the occasional, curious cisgendered guy who wanted to know what I had against “regular” dudes like them.
One subject that came up a lot in my research were stories of partners of transpeople struggling to renegotiate their own sexual identities after their partner’s transition – and true, maybe I would have felt differently had my ex transitioned during our relationship rather than the several years prior to our having met, or had I been exceptionally attached to a lesbian identity – but renegotiation wasn’t an issue for me. Though I wasn’t in-your-face about it this time around, the incident with those girls in the gay club solidified for me that I had nothing to apologize for or justify to anyone; this was who I loved, that love came by sheer merit of who he was as a human being, and I was proud to have him by my side… and at the end of the day, that was all that mattered. And at the end of the day, having him by my side also meant that I became a recipient of heterosexual privilege… and I think privilege in general is a really easy thing to get used to. Soon enough, I hardly gave it a second thought, quietly blending in, privately enjoying my favorite dichotomy of appearing one thing and being another, yet no longer feeling the need to broadcast it to anyone and everyone within earshot.
The other thing about getting comfy with privilege is that, in a way (or at least for me), I think it can sometimes negate the need to really think too deeply into things (or at least the need to think about them as they apply to you personally)… and there’s a world of difference between feeling empathy and compassion over seeing someone else coming up against adversity and facing it head on yourself. Because I never directly felt the impact of any negative repercussions as far as how I was perceived by the outside world, I simply never thought about it beyond this abstract thing that happens to other people… and while I feel for them and speak out on their behalf, I realize it’s still never really touched me. One ex-girlfriend of mine blogged about an experience we had where a random woman came up to us in Target to tell us how cute we were together, and where I had simply smiled and thanked her, my ex described a very different experience of tensing up in anticipation of a confrontation when the woman initially approached us before exhaling in relief when her comment wound up being positive. Add to that the fact that, with all the strides made towards equality, it can be easy to get lulled into a false sense of security, thinking that things have gotten so much better, that maybe society is finally progressing, becoming more open and accepting over time… and I was legitimately thrown by the ignorant comments of my classmates during my undergrad (not to mention learning that my knowledge of gender and sexuality was more current than that of a few of my professors, a couple of whom I wound up filling in on the stigmatizing nature of the word “hermaphrodite” for intersex people).

To an extent, yes, we have made strides toward equality… but there’s still just as much hate and intolerance to be found too, and I sometimes forget that until it smacks me in the face. And, fast-forwarding to present day, the fact that I’ve been primarily dating transmen for the better part of the last four years also means I’ve now enjoyed the appearance of heteronormativity for as long, strolling hand in hand with my man of the moment with no one around us batting an eyelash. So when I found myself on a date with a woman again not too long ago (and wasn’t incorporating the shock value factor this time around when we held hands or shared a kiss in public) for the first time ever, I was fully aware of the stares and double takes from the people around us… and I wasn’t really prepared for it, honestly. I mean, it wasn’t like we were out in the Midwest somewhere; this is a North Jersey town about a half hour outside of New York City, and last I checked, it was the twenty-first century. But apparently some of the passersby in the park where we were walking hadn’t gotten that memo. Don’t get me wrong; it’s not like people were throwing rocks or admonishing us because their children were present or anything like that… but it’s also not like we were engaging in any sort of heavy PDA either, and had I been enjoying those initial “getting-to-know-you” moments with a male, no one would have given us a second glance. As someone who’s always been so matter-of-factly open and outspoken about such things, that sensation of “don’t look at me!” discomfort was a brand new one for me. All of a sudden, I was experiencing that hyper-awareness and self-consciousness that just about everyone else confronts when they first come out… and while it’s certainly not something that would ultimately deter me from exploring a connection with someone, it was enough to make me feel a little of that discomfort that I had initially escaped.
As a result, I started really noticing and becoming sensitive to a lot more; a few weeks later at a Halloween party, I overheard a guy commenting on how “freaky” it was “not being able to tell who’s a guy and who’s a girl” as I passed him with an adorable gender fluid friend of mine (she happened to be dressed in boy’s clothes that night, but all he really had to do was look at her delicate-featured, obviously feminine face in order to render his irritating and ignorant remark completely unnecessary). I settled for shooting him a dirty look over confronting him, but I was pretty pissed off on her behalf until she shrugged it off and talked me down, pointing out that, as far as she was concerned, his insecurities were his and obviously had nothing to do with her… pretty much, if she wasn’t losing sleep over it, why should I? And yeah, it’s awesome that that was her attitude about it. It used to be mine, too, if I really thought about it… but apparently feeling suddenly conspicuous after all these years had put me on the defensive… and even as I’m writing this, I can feel the residual defensiveness coming through in portions of the retelling. However, it also helped me cultivate a whole new level of awareness and understanding… as well as a renewed appreciation for how fortunate I’ve actually been to walk through the world feeling as safe and comfortable in my own skin as I do overall; I know not everyone is as lucky. But I also have to acknowledge that these challenges are real and they’re mine, too… I’m not just here to empathize with and ease things for other people. If I should, at some point, happen to connect with a woman on a deep, significant level again, there’s a very real possibility I’ll also eventually wind up having to revisit all that “mama drama” a second time around… and while I can hope my mother may have mellowed with time all I want, I can’t know for sure unless or until that happens, and the uncertainty is a scary thing to sit with; she’s gotten as used to my heterosexual privilege as I have, if not more so. The one thing I can be sure of, though, is that, whatever obstacles and challenges may be part and parcel of it, whatever rearranging and renegotiating might need to take place, as long as where any of us ultimately end up is in a place of being true to ourselves and our own hearts… that’s what makes it all worthwhile.

© Kristin Despina for Acceptance Revolution, 2012

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09/28/2012

Personal Experience Spotlight: Jennifer

By Acceptance Revolution

True Friend in “Plastic’s” Clothing:
Self Defense Against Bullying Can Be a Lifelong Lesson 

I can watch the movie Mean Girls and relate to the character Regina George because of how, underneath all her meanness, she just wants to be liked and accepted. Who doesn’t feel that way? But I would never take it to the extent of being liked at someone else’s expense. Sure, it’s easy enough to get sucked into gossiping and laughing along with the crowd, but is it the right thing to do? I am also tall and lean with the body of a “plastic” but the heart of a true friend. I never really fit into any clique; my personality is more multi-dimensional than that, so I have always been an outsider who sided with the underdog. I would defend other victims of bullying but still find it difficult to defend myself. For example, I would defend my best friend if I saw her being bullied by saying, “That’s my best friend; don’t talk to her like that,” but felt awkward speaking up for myself. Although girls have a reputation for being mean to one another, I also had a lot of problems with guys. People can be cruel; it doesn’t matter who they are. I can remember being bulled in the 5thgrade. It couldn’t even wait until middle school, could it? Of course not, kids are cruel. Up until then, I’d encountered the occasional mean kid and I’d have my feelings hurt, but this was different. It just wouldn’t stop, and I remember them laughing at me, pushing me on the playground, and excluding me from their cliques.

I went to guidance counselors and teachers for help when I was being bullied, all to no avail. I was told to ignore it or that the other kids were just being kids. I’d also get an insincere apology when the authority figures forced them to do so. This was just the beginning, because contrary to popular belief, kids do not change. They might grow and mature, but all ages have a mean streak. In middle school, I was the target for spit balls and locker pranks. Other students would take advantage of my hard work and copy my homework. In high school, I cut class to avoid my classmates and teachers.

Bullying and discrimination are going to happen, and probably all a person’s life. According to the media a lot of students thought suicide was the answer. But the only way to survive is to learn how to handle bullies in an intelligent manner.  It is important for the victims to have psychological comebacks for the bullies. For example, never to defend yourself because this gives the impression that you need to argue the bully’s point. Let’s assume someone is picking on someone for being a nerd. The correct response would be to agree with him or her and say that it’s great to be smart and that he or she is probably just jealous. A quick comeback shocks the bully and will lessen the chance he or she will mess with you again. After making your comeback, leave the scene immediately to avoid escalating the situation. The most important defense is to build self-confidence and be assertive. Bullies only choose victims that they think won’t defend themselves. By being prepared, you can make sure you won’t be another victim. And finally, as the famous Beatles song tells us, all we need is love… so remember to treat others how you want to be treated.

© Jennifer for Acceptance Revolution, 2012

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08/30/2012

Self-Acceptance 101

By Acceptance Revolution

I debated back and forth for awhile as to whether or not I should share this story, and if so, whether or not it technically belonged on here. It’s an acceptance-related personal experience, to be sure. I’m not sure if it may be too specific to just me and my life, but if it can do some good and resonate with someone else out there, helping them out in the self-acceptance department in some small way, I think it may be a story that needs to be told. And now that I’ve disclaimered myself to death …

Surprisingly enough, self-acceptance is still a yet-to-be-touched-upon topic on Acceptance Revolution, but I was reminded recently just how important it is, not only to always try to meet others within our community where they are, but also to meet ourselves where we are and to recognize the positive qualities we have to offer… particularly when we are feeling attacked or judged in some way.

I’m going to try to stick to bare bones facts as much as possible here, in the interest of not turning this story into a “he said, she said” scenario. Without (hopefully) airing too much dirty laundry, I’ll just say that I recently learned that someone I had connected with on a pretty deep emotional and spiritual level was apparently (and completely unbeknownst to me, although, had I known, I would have been more than open to possibilities… but that’s neither here nor there at this point) “considering” me as a potential dating/relationship prospect. What with that whole not knowing about this factor element at play, I continued along in my blissfully ignorant single girl’s mindset, coming and going as I pleased… until a gossipy instigation by a mutual acquaintance brought everything that had been previously left unspoken out in the open. The interference by this third party apparently also served to bring out a second-guessing in regards to the aforementioned “consideration.” The verdict – or the gist of it, anyway – was that I’m apparently too social. When I think of how many nights I end up either staying in with Redbox  or wondering an hour into an evening out at a club why the hell I decided going there was a good idea in the first place, this is definitely news to me. As further evidence, the following example of two hypothetical couples was submitted to me: Couple A are well-adjusted individuals in a happy, healthy, loving, and faithful committed relationship. Couple B are an utterly dysfunctional pair who habitually lie to and cheat on each other and then cry to their friends about the inevitable, ensuing drama that results from such behavior. The judgment was that, given a choice between which of these two couples to choose as friends, I wouldn’t choose; I would keep them both around because “everyone is just a-ok with [me].”

Upon reflection, this is likely a true and accurate statement. The part that’s not sitting right with me, however, is that – at least as it was presented to me – this is something I’m meant to feel bad about and recognize as a fatal character flaw within myself. Now don’t get me wrong, I can certainly recognize where problems could arise, and I’ve done my share of wrestling with them in the past… but, through that struggle, I’ve also learned to compartmentalize really well. I have (and still do) worked hard to cultivate the important skill of defining clear boundaries for myself and honoring those boundaries. When I found myself sobbing hysterically to a room full of strangers in an N.A. meeting a few years back because my ex refused to recognize her addiction problem and I didn’t know how to help her and had no one to call in for backup to help me, that was pretty much as good a wakeup call as any for me to decide to sit down and figure out the precise method of how I could go about flipping my own mental scripts in order to make damn sure I could prevent ever allowing another person’s issues to impact me, my life, and how I showed up in the world ever again. And I did it. I now know how to differentiate between simply bearing witness to another person’s trials and tribulations versus feeling the need to also bear the responsibility for them. I know how to be compassionate towards a fellow human being who’s creating suffering in his or her life without condoning the negative behaviors they engage in that contribute to the creation of that suffering. It wasn’t easy to achieve, and now that I’ve been made to really examine and think about it all, I’m actually damn proud of the fact that I’ve managed to do so. Like many people, I’m my own toughest critic, and as such, I almost never stop to notice the good in myself or feel pride in my accomplishments. And I need to. We all do.

I’m a yogi. I run a website called Acceptance Revolution. If I didn’t display this capacity for acceptance and compassion to some extent, I’d be a hypocrite. And I’d be doing my authentic self a massive disservice in the acceptance department to boot. Whether or not I’ve given myself credit where it’s due, I’ve worked hard to get to this point, and by the way, no, it doesn’t always come as naturally as breathing. But I work at it because I believe it matters. Because it’s a capacity I have strived to develop, and I believe it’s an asset. I don’t believe that it’s something everyone in the world absolutely must cultivate, and I don’t believe that I’m any better than anyone who hasn’t done so; we all have different strengths and bring different things to the table. And yes, of course, my personal boundaries may differ from those of others… that’s the point: we all find what works for us and conduct ourselves in accordance with our own individual capacity. However, in the case of anyone in my life whom I might take into “consideration,” I would hope that – while, of course, they would look out for me if they saw me start to be negatively impacted by someone else’s problems – they would also recognize and accept and appreciate that attribute of compassion and acceptance in me… even if it was just in the form of an eye roll and a declaration that, “Wow, Couple B is too much; I don’t know how you put up with them… but I love that about you. That’s such a beautiful quality in you.” Because there isn’t a whole lot that I naturally notice and appreciate about myself, so it’s nice to hear that acknowledgement every now and then. In fact, I’m not even sure what it was this time around that helped me to stop and think about it and recognize this trait as a positive one in myself rather than immediately going into internalized criticism mode (particularly since it was a criticism from someone whose opinion I value)… but whatever it was, I’m beyond grateful that I’ve somehow managed to go against the grain and accept myself this time around. That is something I believe everyone in the world absolutely must cultivate: meet others where they are, but don’t forget yourself. Don’t ever forget to recognize and appreciate your own innate goodness and attributes, and to give yourself due credit for them. After all – to paraphrase a Buddha quote – you yourself deserve your love and acceptance just as much as anyone else.

© Kristin Despina for Acceptance Revolution, 2012

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07/30/2012

Personal Experience Spotlight: Tara Viceconte

By Acceptance Revolution

The Elephant in the Yoga Room is not Ganesha

    “So, do you have a lot of brothers?” It was an odd question, seemingly coming out of nowhere.  We had just finished a quite small yoga class, and this is what the substitute teacher asked me, as I was re-layering to face the winter weather.
“No, just a sister.”
“Oh.  No brothers?  Did you spend a lot of time with your Dad or Uncles?”  More odd, invasive questions.
“Well, no, I’m not close to my father, but I did have uncles around.  Why?” Now I’m confused.  And honestly, a bit irritated.
“I wanted to know why you are this way.”  To this teacher, “this way” is clearly something she doesn’t have an understanding of.  “This way”, by the way, is her referring to coming face to face with a female student with a masculine appearance, not celebrating a Lady Gaga song. A chubby, square jawed, men’s-clothes-wearing, tattooed (although, might I add, adorable) butch woman just spent an hour and a half folding, balancing, and back bending with a small pack of the more traditional feminine appearing women one might expect to find at an evening yoga class.  And it scared the shit out of her.
I have noticed when I am in a yoga class and there are no men, I become the guy in the room by default.  I am hyper aware that I am spoken to, adjusted, treated in partner yoga, and referenced (by default, my queerness is also quite clear) by my butchness and sexuality.  If there is a spider in the room, it will be my job to hunt it down and ignore the yogic credo of non-violence (yes, this has happened more than once).

****

            “That’s so gay.  That is the gayest thing I’ve ever seen.  Who would want to wear that?  It’s disgusting.  Ugh, gay.”  This is coming from another student who is sitting across from me as we wait in the hallway to be let into a women only yoga class.  After each “that’s so gay” repetition, she pauses and looks at me to see if she can engage me in an argument.  This dredlocked, vegan, essential oil wearing, hyper-feminine yogini is already disgusted by my presence at the women only yoga class.  I don’t bite.  I’m not there to argue.
Later in that class, when we end up by random chance paired together for partner yoga, I do not drop her in her backbend, even though I really, really want to.  I rallied up enough negative karma killing the spider.

****

            During a weeklong yoga retreat with a well-known yoga teacher, I noticed halfway through that every conversation with said teacher ended with, “whew—you have a lot of masculinity!”  The first time it was amusing.  The second time confusing and forcing me to question just how butch and scary I am to the general population.
After the third time, we had afternoon workshop with a question and answer period.  I had a question.  During this time, my hand was up for over 30 minutes.  People were picked who were not waiting so long, and eventually I was completely ignored and we had to cut off for time.  Normally, my yogic-centered self would just think that we were out of time, and that I should appreciate the workshop itself, even if I didn’t get to ask a question.  Not this time.
I spent a good 2 hours crying alone in a tent in the middle of a forrest-y nowhere because I think there is a possibility that I am being ignored because my appearance is so off-putting that I can’t be allowed to speak—or speak too much.  Further, a group of teachers who I have spent years respecting, admiring, and dreaming of working with are ignoring me.  Am I really this frightening presence that is so manly that it surprises people when I have a pretty looking vinyasa flow going? Is there a beard growing on here that I am unaware of?  If there were, should that matter to them? I know it seems unlikely that I was not called on because of my queerness, and I now don’t believe that was the case, but after hearing all week about my “masculinity”, at the time it felt like I was out of place.  At the time, it was a very real possibility that ripped out my core. I needed a hug, or at least to talk about it.  At that point I was too ashamed of myself to ask even the friends I had made at the retreat.  Who would want to hug this?

*****

        I am a part of the yoga community, yet a chunk of the yoga community can’t handle me.  There are teachers and students who will preach acceptance and non-violence until their “OM” chanting faces turn blue, but my choice of wearing men’s athletic shorts instead of women’s can throw them off for the entire class.  It’s disheartening.  I want to teach yoga.  Now I have to wonder, am I too masculine to be accepted as a teacher?  What if this package turns off too many students?  Should I maybe go back to wearing some earrings and hope this is some type of balance?  How deep is my voice?  Do I walk differently when I think I’m being watched?
I don’t have any answers right now.  Suggestions are welcome.  For now, I will continue the quest for the perfect arm balance, and I will do this in my sleeveless T-shirt from the men’s section that shows off my arms and tattoo.  I will accept that right now I will be the focus of comments, but that the people that they are coming from need to see me being “this way”, and doing yoga just like they do.  I will get on my mat, smile at them, and take practice.  That’s my revolution.

© Tara Viceconte for Acceptance Revolution, 2012

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05/17/2012

Personal Experience Spotlight: Kristin Despina

By Acceptance Revolution

Fringe Benefits

I was out at a club last night. Two groups of my friends who no longer interact with one another were also there, and there were a couple points during the evening when I was literally “in the middle” of the two aforementioned groups on the dance floor. Or, as an impartial third party who was there with one of my groups of friends and unaware of the dynamics of the situation observed, I was “always off to the edge of the group,” on the fringes of things. I responded that that was pretty much the story of my life, and it reminded me of my poor, neglected little website here and the way that – when I first set it up and began promoting it – I was encouraging people to share their own stories to be posted on the site, yet hadn’t shared my own.

The main reason why I started this site in the first place, and why an all-inclusive revolution of acceptance that provides a sense of belonging to anyone who’s ever lacked in that department is so vitally important to me is because I’ve personally never felt that I really “fit” anywhere. While I’m fortunate enough to be comfortable in my own skin, content with the physical body I was born into, any kind of “perfect fit” has ended there for me. And the thing is… I also don’t even really fit into a hard-knock life of serious struggle either. As I’ve told every therapist I’ve ever had (not a ton of ’em… I can count them on one hand), I really didn’t have it all that bad growing up: I wasn’t abused; nothing seriously traumatic ever happened to me; my siblings are awesome, I consider them to be two of my best friends, and we have each other’s backs unconditionally. As said therapists pointed out to me, however, I also grew up in an environment where my thoughts, opinions, and feelings weren’t always validated; even as a little kid, I remember my mother scoffing at me and nicknaming me “Sara Heartburn” whenever I would get upset over the silly little things that seem like such a big deal when you’re small. In addition – regardless of whether or not it was actually the case – I grew up feeling like the “black sheep” of the family, starting from a very young age when I couldn’t yet grasp the subtle nuances between black and white, good and bad. My mom always had this little thing she’d say about how – if she were to draw a literal line in the sand and tell all three of us that we had to stay behind said line – my sister would have been a foot behind it, my brother would have had his toes just touching the edge, and I would have been five feet away on the other side with my hands on my hips waiting to see what she was going to do about it. Between that and her fond ruffling of my sister’s hair coupled with explanations that my sister was “[her] compliant one,” I believed that my being strong-willed was a negative thing, when in reality, it was actually the primary thing I was born with that would help me to go beyond surviving to thriving; I came with what I needed already in hand in that department, stuffed it way down inside, and have been on my uphill climb to rediscover and retrieve it ever since… funny how life works out that way. And, probably like many children, I began my quest to do just that by rebelling in pretty much every way I could think of, proudly rocking the “black sheep” mantle I felt had been bestowed upon me, figuring – as I’m often apt to do – that if I was doing time anyway, I may as well at least commit the crime.

I began – according to my mother’s retelling – with displaying the black “X’s” from when I had missed days on my childhood “good behavior chart” to my grandmother as my “black stars” with every bit as much pride as that with which  I displayed the gold star stickers I had earned for the days I had behaved. I questioned everything, bucked the envelope in every way I could possibly think of, and it all came to a head where my mom was concerned when she found out about my having a serious girlfriend when I was in my early twenties. I wasn’t an innocent party in that scenario, mouthing off at her for being a hypocrite because she had criticized the parents of a friend of mine from church who had kicked him out upon discovering he was gay, saying, “How can they call themselves Christians and then turn around and treat their own child that way?” I pointed out all the ways in which I felt she was doing the exact same thing until she lost it, lunging across the room at me and escalating our verbal altercation to a physical one that resulted in our not speaking for almost a year, finally burying the hatchet when my grandmother’s then-in-remission breast cancer came back and metastasized, taking her from us in a matter of months. Truth be told, I don’t know how long reconciliation between us would have taken otherwise, and it was a good year and change after that before I started responding with more than an “uh huh” or “you too” again when my mom told me she loved me.

I didn’t really fit in with my peers either. Again, it wasn’t any kind of extreme level stuff like a lot of people experience, but I remember spending recess sitting on the playground by myself reading a book (I’ve never been the most athletically inclined) in elementary school. My mom home-schooled me through junior high, and when I went back to public school for high school – naively anticipating that it would be like high school on TV – I was in for the rudest of awakenings. This came in the form of a group of “mean girls” who adopted me and then turned on me to the point where I began hiding out in the bathroom during sophomore year lunch period. It was all very strategic; the night before I would freeze a McDonald’s soda cup, which I would leave to thaw in my locker during my morning classes. I had a Spanish class  where an alphabetical seating chart placed me next to the “mean girls'” ringleader right after lunch period, so I took to waltzing into class armed with that soda cup and an explanation that I had gone off campus for lunch so as not to raise suspicion or let her see that she was impacting me. I fared a little better when I transferred to a tiny private Christian high school for my junior and senior years; the school was so small that there wasn’t really any room for cliques, so it was all-inclusive in that respect, but the stereotypical staunchly religious and narrow viewpoints that were perpetuated there never really resonated with me.

And, in college, when I finally began exploring the notion that had cropped up during my senior year that maybe the reason I was never really here nor there with boyfriends in high school was because I was into girls, I found I didn’t really feel I “fit” in the gay community either. People knew me and liked me at the local stomping grounds, but even there, I was always on the fringes, never really finding any genuine connection or sense of community and belonging with any one particular group. I was everyone’s “go-to” when there were tensions and drama between various individuals and groups that required an objective, third party listening ear (and, in fact, I’m still that “go-to” when my friends are in need of advice).  Sometimes, yeah, I would get caught up in whatever was going on and that whole phenomenon of being unable to see the proverbial forest for the trees would take hold, but nine times out of ten, I would ultimately realize it really had nothing to do with me. So, in a way, I guess I was kind of a part of, yet separate at the same time. While it’s an entirely different level of experience, of course, I think this is one of the most primary things that has helped me relate to the transmen I’ve dated, several of whom have also expressed to me never really fully feeling a sense of belonging within the gay community. It’s also the reason why, last night, when one of my friends who was part of the falling out between my two groups of friends wasn’t sure if I’d want to talk to her as a show of loyalty to the other group, I made a point to inform her in no uncertain terms that that’s simply not how I roll: “I’m your friend, regardless of who may or may not be here,” I told her.

I guess, for me, that’s the real benefit of being on the fringes, of fitting in everywhere but nowhere at the same time. I’m not going to lie, there are definitely times when it can get a little lonely out on the edges, but  (at least when I’m able to regain my bearings in those moments when – being only human and all – I find myself getting momentarily swept away or drawn into things that I’m not completely a part of), I think it gives me a clearer overall picture in the long run. As firmly as I believe that everyone deserves that place to belong, I also believe that it would be so much easier to achieve that and that we would all be so much better off if we could only learn to see the forest for the trees.

© Kristin Despina for Acceptance Revolution, 2012

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02/14/2012

Personal Experience Spotlight: Jamie

By Acceptance Revolution

“Re-Disposition”

Recently, in an attempt to make new friends, I started a group on meetup.com.  These groups need to have a centrality about them, a common factor among members.  I named my group: Bisexual/Bi-Curious Women of Central NJ, in hopes of meeting ladies around my age who are bisexual or bi-curious.  And no, it was not with the intent of meeting ladies for sexual and/or dating purposes. I am a faithful woman married to a man, a dedicated stay at home mother of one, a not-currently-teaching certified teacher, a daughter, a sister, a dreamer … among many other things.  I have been attracted to both men and women since the age of about 13-15, when I precociously lost my virginity to both… in case you were wondering.

I have lost many friends/acquaintances over the years, essentially due to deciding I’d rather be with a man for the long term: no longer needing to prowl the bars/clubs in search of a partner, no longer wanting to join in with friends from the LGBTIQA community out of fear of no longer being accepted, refusing to conform to others’ ideas of who they thought I was or wanted me to be, and eventually acquiring a whole new domestic lifestyle.

So… back to ‘my group.’  I was hoping to find some open-minded, mature, intellectual, active women.  Just to revamp my social life.  If you have a baby, you probably understand.  Especially if most, if not all, of your friends are single and baby-less.  I figured if I made friends who were bisexual, or at least open-minded, I wouldn’t feel so out of place or misunderstood as I have in the past.  I wanted this group to be more of a support group.  But no, not where we just sit around and discuss our sexualities… but to get up, get out, and get active; meet on the beach, play football, and discuss our sexuality, among many other things; meet at my house, sit in my back yard, sip some wine, roast some marshmallows over a fire, and discuss our sexuality among many other things; meet at a local bowling alley, get competitive, have fun, and discuss our sexuality among many other things.  Get it?

Instead, the first day that my group was up and running, almost everyone who joined fit into the ‘party animal,’ ‘sex obsessed,’ ‘swinger status,’ ‘playmate searching,’ ‘slut’ clichés!  The kind of women who use their ‘wanna-be porn star’ photos as their profile picture.  The kind of women who were also members of ‘Kinky Women of NYC,’ ‘Group Sex,’ and ‘Big, Sexy Women of Color’ kinds of groups.  Yeah, you get the picture.  I then changed my settings to only allow membership after my approval.  I started getting membership requests from ladies in their 40’s, 50’s and 60’s.  I approved them, of course.  They seemed mature and genuinely in need of like-minded friends, as was the point of the group.  But, with me being in my 20’s, I didn’t feel so comfortable ‘leading’ the kind of group my group was turning into.   And so I decided to step down.  The group may even be canceled altogether, and that’s okay with me.   All of this started and ended within four days.  But hey, I’m an impulsive, impatient Sagittarius – what can I say?

Since canceling my group, I’ve been doing a bit of speculating.  Yes, there are many ‘bisexuals’ who are sex freaks, who can’t remain loyal and faithful, who might be going through a ‘phase’ for one reason or another, who are actually confused, or who are grossly immature.  And those are the kind of bisexuals who give other bisexuals a bad name.  A phenomena that is quite common among many groups of people.

I personally know quite a few ladies who are bisexual – truly bisexual – have dated men and women, could settle down with either a man or a woman, can remain faithful to one partner only, and are quite comfortable with themselves.  (I, myself, fit into this category.)  I also personally know quite a few ladies that label themselves as ‘straight’ but have slept with women, like to make out with women, like to flirt with women, find certain women attractive, etc. (Or have at least dreamt about it.)  I also personally know quite a few ladies who label themselves as ‘lesbian’ but have slept with men in the past, sleep with men in the present, and contemplate maybe even settling down with a man in the future.  I also personally know quite a few ladies who would label themselves ‘bisexual’ but don’t feel quite so comfortable doing so, due to clichés, rejection, and other means of biphobia.  I also personally know quite a few ladies who are interested in threesomes, which is fine, normal, and quite common.

I’ve never felt comfortable with divulging my sexuality in the past, afraid of labels others would throw at me.  And now that I have settled down and chosen a man to spend my life with, I feel others will judge me if I don’t plead ‘straight.’  But I refuse to be a victim of biphobia in that regard.  If you don’t understand me, oh well.  I’m at the point in my life now where I really don’t care what other people think anymore.  I will always be irreversibly bisexual.  That doesn’t mean that I can’t be faithful to my husband or that I ever have to ‘hook up’ with a female again in my life.  Once you’ve come to terms with yourself, your sexual identity doesn’t just disappear or change because of circumstance.  Get it?

So, after contemplating segregating myself, getting uber frustrated at the intention of members joining my group, and giving up on yet another endeavor, I have come to the conclusion that I don’t want to make friends with people solely on the commonality of our sexuality.  After all, I am an eclectic person.  I’ve always desisted labels and detested cliques.  Instead of trying to create an oligarchic group of friends around the topic/label/interest of bisexuality I’d rather, instead, continue to reach out to people of all walks of life, and in turn maintain my multi-faceted identity.

© Jamie for Acceptance Revolution, 2012

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02/01/2012

Personal Experience Spotlight: Kristi Mulqueen

By Acceptance Revolution

Unconventional Love: Rumor Has It

My life has been something like a big game of “Telephone”:  a complicated story with lots of details, involving people and places. The more detailed my story gets, the more likely the message has been changed as it makes its way through the telephone line of people in my life.

As 30 knocks on my door, I am very aware that I have grown into a woman who is confident and comfortable with herself. My early 20’s were a little confusing, but nonetheless fun, for  lack of a better word. I explored my sexuality often and enjoyed every minute of it. Not everyone understood; I guess it was a complicated situation to understand for most people. I was in a relationship with a man, but was openly bisexual. At times we had “friends with benefits” and there was even a live-in girlfriend at one point. Most strangers, family members, and friends were confused. They told me to choose. They said, if you like women, just be with them. They believed that there was no way that you could love someone and let them “be” with someone else physically. But I explained to them that I was attracted to women but liked having my relationship with my boyfriend, and I was in love with him. With that being said, from then on, people assumed that every friend that was a girl was a lover. They assumed that every girl that hung out with my man and I was having a threesome with us. There were many situations like this that were absolutely true, but there were more that were false. I noticed that everyone around me loved to tell stories, twisting my words and actions into manipulated fairytales created solely for their own entertainment. It’s not my fault their sex life was so boring that they fantasized about mine. They said we would never last…

So here I am, about to celebrate my 11 year anniversary with my boyfriend, the same man that I explored my sexuality with, my lover, my best friend. We are not as “crazy” as we were in our early 20’s, but we haven’t changed much. We still have the same theories about relationships. We still have people who question our actions and assume things. All that matters is that we love each other, and what works for one doesn’t always work for another. All I know is that my relationship has lasted more than most marriages. So as unconventional as it may be, for us, it works, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. I am so grateful to find a partner who I can be myself with unconditionally.

© Kristi Mulqueen for Acceptance Revolution, 2012

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01/22/2012

Human Connection: “Straight,” No Chaser

By Acceptance Revolution

My good friend and partner-in-crime Jess Farris (whose name you may recognize from the first featured personal experience spotlight on this site) describes her new blog But I Thought You Were… as, “The misadventures of a girl just living life and yearning to find a genuine connection to another human being. And not worrying so much anymore what kind of equipment they’re packing!” Amen, and I’ll drink to that! And this description – in particular, the latter portion – is a fantastic segue into what I want to touch on  today.

There’s a particular double-standard that exists, with which I think most people who don’t fall into hetero-normative categories are at least somewhat familiar. It goes a little something like: “Ooh! I should set you up with my friend because you’re both gay/lesbian.” Heterosexual set-ups, on the other hand, are more likely to be based on – if you can believe it – the  crazy phenomenon of actual common ground between the two people in question. And, as recently as last week – though it’s not the first time it’s happened, and probably won’t be the last – I’ve had well-meaning friends who’ve wanted to introduce me to their FTM friends simply because they know I’ve dated transguys before. On the heels of this most recent event not sparking into a love connection (the guy was a sweetheart, but I wasn’t really looking for anything, and even if I had been, we met at a friend’s birthday celebration at a club… so not exactly conducive to any kind of deep connection), the birthday girl (who, by the way, was not even the friend responsible for the forced, awkward set-up) commented, “Wow, I guess you’re really not a tranny chaser then.” Um, yeah, thank you. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell everyone.

For my own convenience purposes earlier, the easiest place I was able to find a definition of the term “tranny chaser” was on Urban Dictionary… not the most professional reference, I know, but it will suffice to illustrate my point (and, frankly, I think there’s a damn good reason that particular search term doesn’t pop up in a more professional source). According to most of what’s on there,  the most common definition is something along the lines of “a straight male who is sexually obsessed with/turned on by male to female transsexuals.” Well, I’m pretty sure that one lets me out right off the bat.

Apparently, the term can also refer to “dykes who fetishize trans men as ‘really butch’ and thus keep dyke cred by not admitting they might be attracted to a man.” First off, I’ve never looked at any of the transguys I’ve dated as “really butch” lesbians; that’s why they’re called “transguys,” not “trans really butch lesbians.” Secondly, I’m also willing to state for the record here on my public site that I’ve been attracted to a few cisgender guys in my time as well, with little regard for what it might mean for my “dyke cred…” so I guess I don’t fit that second definition either.

Urban Dictionary also claims that, “A queer-identified woman who lusts after FTMs may be identified as a tranny-chaser if she outs her lovers as trans, particularly to acquaintances and strangers, so that she won’t be taken for straight,” and I’ll admit that – though it certainly was not my finest hour –  the first time I got the “why are you here if you’re straight?” question in a gay bar, I did feel the need to explain why, despite outward appearances,  I still “belonged” there… but, thankfully, that didn’t last long either.

So while, yes, I do happen to like – as Jess put it – “what kind of equipment they’re packing,” in regard to transguys, I don’t fetishize them, and I’m not going to date someone solely based on that. I’m not just about what they’re “packing,” and in fact, even their trans-ness has only ever been a tiny portion of the equation for me; while, granted, they often have amazing and unique experiences to share because of their trans factor, there’s A LOT more to it for me than that. I’m all about viewing whoever I date as the total package, and it just so happens that, in the past, I’ve found my personal definition of that in a few transguys. Sure, I dug their “equipment,” and we had our fun in that department, but what really got me hooked and held my interest was so much bigger and so far beyond all that…

I’ve known guys with whom I could talk for hours and never get bored because of the amazing banter and verbal sparring we developed. I’ve known guys who’ve inspired the shit out of me with the strength and integrity they displayed as men, in the face of – and perhaps even because of – the challenges and obstacles they’d encountered in their lives. I’ve known guys who’ve had the rare distinction of being one of those people who made me feel that, when they looked at me, they were actually looking hard enough and paying close enough attention to really see me, learning what I was about and what made me tick, challenging me to fully examine each facet of myself… and who, in turn, openly invited and encouraged me to challenge them because they truly believed that the connection we shared had the power to help us both grow and evolve and better ourselves as human beings… and they were right; it absolutely did.

And none of that had anything to do with their “equipment.”

© Kristin Despina for Acceptance Revolution, 2012

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01/10/2012

Personal Experience Spotlight: Jess Farris

By Acceptance Revolution

“But I thought you were a lesbian!?”

Three years ago, I sat in a diner across from a friend and told her that, “If me and Kate* break up for good; I’ll probably go back to dating guys.” To anyone who has spent a significant amount of time with me, Kate needs no introduction. She was my entire life for the past 4 ½ years. More than just my girlfriend; she was “the one.” I was so sure of this that I actually put an engagement ring on hold during one of our on periods… then, consequently, going and getting my money back when we were off again. This was the nature of our entire relationship; hot and cold, off and on, break up to make up. Yet, in my mind she was the love of my life, and the good times most certainly outweighed the bad. Only, they didn’t. In hindsight, I realized that during those off periods while I was missing her, I would romanticize the relationship. It was all good, and I could prove it to her if only she would give it another chance…
About 5 months ago I finally came to my senses. I wasn’t happy; she wasn’t happy. She didn’t want to put in the work and I was exhausted from working so damn hard. Mutually, we decided to stop torturing ourselves and ended things for good.

So, there I was during one of our “breaks,” eating a grilled cheese sandwich and chatting with my friend. I’m sure we were going back and forth about our relationships and how depressed we were, but what sticks out most in my mind was that comment I made about going back to men. After I blurted it out, my friend asked me, “Why?” I shrugged and said something along the lines of, “I don’t know. I just think it’ll end up happening.” I didn’t know why I had said it or why I was thinking about trying things with men again. Especially since I was still so in love with Kate, or at least I thought I was at the time. And while me and her did end up getting back together (and breaking up) for years after I had this conversation with my friend; the seed was planted. I didn’t consciously sit around and wonder about hooking up with dudes but I would sure as hell dream about it. And it freaked me the fuck out. I’m a lesbian; why am I having dreams about men?! Lying in bed next to my girlfriend, I would wake up feeling guilty and confused. I figured the curiosity, or whatever the hell it was, would just go away. And it would for a few months; and then the dreams would start up again.

I talked to my friends about it and they all pretty much had the same thing to say; maybe it was simply because I had never tried it. I did have a couple of boyfriends before I came out. We did some PG-13 stuff but nothing too heavy and never went as far as sex. So technically, I was still a virgin. I was always the type to get super annoyed at people, especially guys , when they would say things like, “How do you know you don’t like sex with men if you never tried it?” Which I would then turn that question back on them, and we would both have the same answer- we didn’t need to try it, we just knew. But now I wasn’t so sure. I was terrified to have sex with a man. Not only was there the whole “ouch” factor, but I really don’t trust men. Some shady shit has happened to me in the past, and it’s left me scarred. I don’t like to let them in because I fear getting hurt. And I’m not as comfortable around them sexually as I am with females. When I finally gave in to my attraction to girls, I thought I had it all figured out. Women are beautiful; I can trust them AND be free sexually without fear. This is great! I’m a lesbian, and I never have to worry about men in that aspect again. Yet here I was; and the seed was growing.

I just couldn’t shake this feeling. This wondering…  During my last few breaks from Kate I found myself making out with boys. I wasn’t really sure why I was doing it. I told myself it was because I was lonely and bored. And most of these kisses did nothing to excite me; I felt nothing but a mouth attached to another human being. No connection; no arousal. And then when it came time for me to “work things out” with Kate, again, I definitely did NOT want her to know about these hook ups. She would think I was disgusting! How dare I go and kiss boys, being that I was so gay. This fear of what she would think branched out further into what would the lesbian community, my community, think about me and this new found curiosity in men? I would be labeled a traitor. Not to mention feel like a hypocrite.  I myself had seen friends, and friends of friends, who were once with women exclusively and now had boyfriends or husbands.  I remember thinking, “How they hell could they just switch sides like that?!” Now, not only was I confused and fearful of these new feelings I couldn’t get rid of; I was afraid of being shunned by a group of people that in some ways felt like my family. Coming out and making friends within the gay and lesbian world makes you feel like you’re a part of something bigger than yourself. You feel free and proud; supported and loved. Was I going to lose all of that based on a maybe? Even if I did “experiment” with men, there was no telling if I would enjoy it or not.

Needless to say, I didn’t really have to deal with the negative backlash of the community. Once Kate and I split for good, I realized that most of my gay friends were really her gay friends. My core group of friends were straight, bisexual, or somewhere in between. And they were certainly not going to judge me for whatever the hell I was going through. After the break up, I finally felt free to explore the curiosity that was gnawing at me from the inside out. I needed a break from the whole gay scene, not to mention Kate and her friends, so I avoided the gay bars. I mean, it wasn’t hard; there are only 2 within an hour of my house. But that’s beside the point. I started doing what every newly single girl does; I went out with the ladies! I hit up the “straight” bars and clubs that I only went to on occasion before because there was nothing for me in them; I already had my girlfriend. I drank, danced, and actually started giving guys some of my attention. I was enjoying myself. I was still confused as all hell, but I liked meeting guys. Something that I felt was always missing in my relationship with Kate is what I call “feeling like a girl”. I can only describe this as a feeling you get inside when you’re with someone who makes you feel pretty, feminine, protected, and safe. Kate did nothing wrong; I just always felt like I had to have the more masculine energy and I didn’t like that. Now I was starting to get this feeling I craved by being out in the straight world.

As much as I was enjoying myself, there was still a huge amount of uncertainty and fear. But something else was weighing heavier on my mind: the fact that almost everyone I knew still referred to me as a lesbian. It’s not fair for me to be mad at them for doing so when they weren’t aware of the direction I was headed in. I didn’t want to go around telling everyone because, quite frankly, I didn’t know what the hell to tell them. I wasn’t ready to call myself bisexual because I wasn’t sure that I was. I was also afraid that people would think that the whole “lesbian” thing was just a phase. I mean, it was and it wasn’t. It wasn’t a phase in the way that the homophobes like to call being gay a phase. It’s not something I was just experimenting with or getting out of my system. No matter what gender I end up with, I will always be attracted to females. It was a phase, in the sense that that part of my life is on pause right now as I’m entering into a new phase, or chapter, of my life. I’m not sure where this will take me, but I do need to explore it.

At this point in my life I don’t want to define myself as a lesbian, bisexual or straight; I just like who I like. I personally think it’s ridiculous that, as a society, we feel the need to go around labeling people to make ourselves feel better. By putting everyone in their appropriate box, we somehow feel safer? I don’t get it. All I’m looking for is a genuine connection with another human being; gender only plays a small role in that. So yes, it gets frustrating when people still refer to me as a lesbian. Especially if there is a guy I’m interested in and I get cock blocked by someone saying, “Oh, you have no chance with her. She’s gay.” (It has happened, and it’s fucking annoying.) I no longer want to be known as so and so’s gay friend, that “hot lesbian” or what’s her names ex girlfriend; I’m just Jess.

*Name changed to protect privacy.

© Jess Farris for Acceptance Revolution, 2012

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12/30/2011

A Place To Belong

By Acceptance Revolution

The other day, one of my closest friends made the excellent point that – while the LGBTQIA community may, indeed, be a logical place to start looking for stories of people striving for acceptance – these stories are not limited to, nor do they end there. More than just revolutionizing the members of the LGBTQIA community’s acceptance of one another, this movement can really be applied to the human experience as a whole. As she put it, “There’s nothing more painful than being rejected by those who once accepted you,” and that’s an experience with which many people – regardless of their gender or orientation – have been intimately familiar at some point or another in their lives.  Be it a falling out with family members over miscommunications or disagreements over life choices, a child being bullied or ostracized in school and not understanding why, or even loss of friends who are forced to take sides in the instance of a messy divorce or breakup, most of us have at least had a taste of what rejection and loss of community feels like.

When psychologist Abraham Maslow developed his theory of human beings’ hierarchy of needs, feelings of acceptance and belonging were secondary only to basic physiological needs (ie: food, water, air, etc.) and shelter. So needless to say, whoever you are, wherever you’re from, and however the loss of those feelings of being accepted and having somewhere to belong may have manifested in your life, the accompanying pain is real, and it matters. But it is also where we can find the comfort in the overlaps, establishing common ground with those who may, on the surface, seem so vastly different from us…. because where our respective experiences may be as utterly different as night and day, the general, underlying feelings are the same. And, by this token, the acceptance revolution is for everyone, an all-inclusive community that opens its arms to anyone who’s ever felt they didn’t fit in for any reason and says: “Here is where you fit. Here is your place to belong. Be you, and be at home.”

And that right there? Is unity and power at its finest.

© Kristin Despina for Acceptance Revolution, 2011

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