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"Why Can't You Be Discreet?"

  How non-affirming theologies re-traumatized me - a sexual assault survivor - when I came out as queer and polyamorous to my family: I was raised in a protestant church. I was sexually abused multiple times by multiple Christian men when I was 13 to 15 years old. I did not understand that I was being abused, and I absolutely blamed myself for what was happening to me.  When I talked to my mom about just a portion of it, while it was ongoing, I asked her what we were going to do about it. She said, "We're going to pretend it never happened." For half my life, I lived by that. I did my best to pretend it never happened. I did this, partly, for the comfort of my family members. I did not want my parents to know about everything that had happened to me, because I did not want them to blame themselves for not protecting me. I did not want to tell any of my family members, because I did not want them to be hurt or upset or have strained relationships with people in the church.
Recent posts

Our Family Story, Part 1

I was never good at monogamy. I cheated on almost every boy I dated in high school, and I dated a lot of boys in high school. It wasn't just for cheap thrills, either. I would legitimately develop crushes or sometimes fall in love with multiple people at the same time. There's a cultural myth that you can't actually love two people at the same time. You really truly only love one of them. This is a guiding principle behind so many romantic comedies and a major plot point in both Gone With the Wind and The Once and Future King, which were big influences on me growing up. So when I was young and struggling to be monogamous, I fluctuated between distrusting my own feelings (because it's impossible to actually love multiple people!) and believing myself to be broken (because actually loving multiple people isn't normal/acceptable). I was regularly called a slut, and I carried a great deal of self-hate. At age 16, when I fell in love with my current husband,  Rob,

Today was Bad

 My Partner has been in bed all day. He has eaten a banana and a bowl of peas. I hate Chronic Lyme Disease so much.  We were going to visit his parents tomorrow. Outside with masks on. For the first time in a long time. I had to cancel. I'm just crying and crying.  I'm thinking about how my family formally rebuked me for loving him. I'm thinking about all the people that claimed to love him and then just left when he was sick. He hasn't been endlessly good to me, but I can't think of anything he's done that's heinous enough to warrant these walls. This separation. This excommunication. What principles are worth a suffering man's isolation?  I'm thinking about one of my friends who had covid months ago and still has issues from it. I'm thinking about all the other people - all the children - who have post-covid syndrome. I'm thinking about how the people who aren't taking covid seriously do not have a strong enough fear of chronic illness.

A Short Story

 I've been participating in the weekly short story competitions on Reedsy, and it's been a lot of fun. This past week, I was a sicky, so I didn't finish the story in time. I figured I'd post the story here instead. Enjoy <3 ~ My earliest memory didn't actually happen to me. It was given to me by my Maker. She programmed it to play in my mind when I booted up for the first time. I play it periodically when I want to see her again.  It is a welcome and a warning. It is a declaration of love and an explanation for why I am alone in this world. I was never supposed to exist, of course. I'm illegal. My Maker created me, hid me, switched me on, and then fled while I was booting up. I never actually met her. "Don't look for me," she says in my memory. "It's too dangerous. Just live. Live beautifully. I love you with all of my heart."  So when people ask me about my earliest memory I tell them it is of my mother's face, pained but hope

Coffee & Honey Narrative Poem

 What follows is a poem about a negative experience I had being a third for an established couple. I've had other very positive experiences in triad relationships. This one just happened to be bad.  ~ I take honey in my coffee.  No matter how careful I think I'm being,  I always get some on my fingertips.  Oh well. I love to lick it off.  She is both the honey and the coffee.  The bitter makes the sweetness sweeter.  My caution is irrelevant. Each day she will be who she is, and I will enjoy her.  ~  I was crying about something else. Not him.  "I'm really a delicate creature," I said. "I can tell…" he said, "I want that…" So I wrote a poem to his gentleness.  I wonder, now, if even then there was  manipulation in the sentiment. Did he think me easy prey? Did he hear delicate as moldable?  Could those tender hands intend the harm inflicted?  Or was the abuse almost accidental? Is toxic masculinity a sword he's unaware of wielding?  Does coe

One Of My Favorite Creators is Abusive

 I grew up on Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I regularly rewatch it. I'm part of a Buffy fan group on Facebook. I went as a Slayer for Halloween multiple times. I've fan-girled about cast members at cons. I've even asked my family to play music from Buffy at my funeral.  News of Joss Whedon's abusive behavior is not surprising, but it's still heartbreaking. Many fans have been expressing a sentiment similar to this: Joss Whedon's shows helped me become the kind of person who would not tolerate Joss Whedon's abusive behavior.  I'm not going to say anything more profound than anyone else has been saying. Buffy was monumental for femme empowerment and queer representation. It wasn't a perfect show, but it holds a significant place in pop-culture history. Many people much smarter than me are writing about this.  But I need to be clear about where I stand on this. He's one of my favorite creators, and he's chosen cruelty over and over again. I have to

Followers vs. Friends

 Every single person who has bought one of my chapbooks has been someone I personally know. A friend. And honestly, I hope it stays that way.  I value accessibility, definitely. I want my poetry to be available for anyone and everyone who needs it to find it. But that's not the same thing as fame.  I don't want fame. I don't want a huge follower count that's half robots & scammers. I don't want an inbox full of brand ambassador requests.  I just wanna keep sharing my poetry with my friends.  And I wanna make new friends! I wanna engage with other artists and writers and musicians and Richmonders and parents and queers and survivors and activists. I wanna know what they value. I wanna support them and uplift them.  I wanna give back. I wanna pay forward.  So I spent a lot of time today going through my follower lists and reaching out to people or removing scammers. I'm planning to continue this process for a while. I want to be really intentional about my int