Gratitude Culture

For every child that couldn’t stomach the food on their plate and were told that they will eat it and be grateful that they have it, I reject enforced gratitude. 

Even When it Hurts

 Will you ever respect the depth of  passion I have for what I love ?

Recognize that I feel it is a calling to speak up, to deny that which is harmful to those whose pain I feel?

Will you ever treat me as an equal who cares as much for humanity as you and grieves deeply for what we’ve all lost? 

Will you ever respect me as someone who believes they are doing God’s work in their own way and cannot turn away from it

 

even when it hurts? 

The Power of Love

 If love heals, what does the lack of love do?

 It is impossible for a person to feel they belong when others don't accept them as they are.

Imagine

Imagine a world where we respect each others pain; allowing space for it to be heard; listening to the wisdom held in it's anger and indignation, instead of pushing it away so that we don't have to feel it ourselves.  

What if we provided a soft place, a sanctuary for the wounded to heal, held them in compassion as they purged the toxins from their soul. 

What if we took responsibly for the well being of each other as if our very lives depend on it.

What if they do?

 It’s better to be alone than with people who don’t want you. 

Self Love

 Today I crawled out from under the weight of your bad opinion and for the first time in a long time I felt free. 

Rise Up

Rise Up by Andra Day

The scarier the world gets the more we want to isolate and protect ourselves from it by any means we can.  We surrourd ourselves with like minded people to feel safe. We make rules that define how we should be together, define our boundaries, tightening our security, and in so doing we create a world of us and them. 

The scarier the world gets the more polarized we become, but now more than ever we have to resist the self protective urge to seperate ourselves from the struggle of our fellow human beings. We are interconnected, interdependent; it is our struggle too, and without each other we are powerless. We cannot give in to the feeling that we can't make a difference because that hoplessness will be the end of us all.

October

If October was a person it would be a a woman in her prime, all decked out in burgundy  and gold, not hiding her age as if it is something to be ashamed of, but recognizing the beauty that comes from living, how laughter and worry have etched their tell tale lines on her face, how the sparkle in her eyes still exists but is tempered and made three dimensional  by the depth of wisdom, reminding us that everything is finite and yet infinite at the same time. 

Just This

 

Integrity or Friendship

 The more I speak up in defense of the wounded people in this world and against the ways that keep them there, the more unpopular I become. 

I have a choice, hold my tongue and make friends, or speak the truth as I see it.  At this point I don't have much too loose. Which would you choose? 

Neurodivergent vs Neurotypical

 I'm starting to think that neurotypical folks aren't neurotypical at all. They're just better at masking and they think everyone should be able to do it to get alone in this world.

https://eagleswill.com/a-comparison-between-neurodivergent-vs-neurotypical/

Pride and Passion Podcast

I’ve been interviewed for a podcast  🤗

 https://audio.com/jamesgardner/audio/pride-and-passion-trans-pride-dar-levy

Alone

 One of the reasons I don’t end my miserable life is that the people in it would take it as a commentary about them and dislike me even more. 

Happy Pride!

I came out in the 80’s,  In fact I attended my first women’s only dance in 1985; I had the audacity to flirt with a beautiful women in the washroom, and she took me home with her, told me I was a natural and I never looked back.

The reason I tell you this story is not to brag, (well maybe just a little) not to shock you by throwing my sexuality in your face; I’m telling it because it holds great significance for me.  

I grew up in rural Nova Scotia. I didn’t know any one who was queer, and if I did, I didn’t know it.  …I had an uncle who was gay, but I heard so many negative things said about him, there wasn’t anything I could identify with, and I knew I definitely wasn't any of those awful thing that I overheard. 

Deep inside, I always felt I had something to protect though, something to hide. 

Skip ahead to my first women’s only dance, and I had never before seen so many women openly expressing their love for each other.  I felt drunk with the freedom it allowed me.

I joined the Gay and Lesbian Alliance of Halifax and marched in Pride parades, and they WERE marches at that time..   

We were afraid of the RCMP who were known to take photographs and keep files on those who took part in political demonstrations. …But we marched anyway, and we proudly held up signs and sang songs like: we are gay and straight together and we are singing, singing for our lives.  - And we really were. 

But even though I had felt I had found my people, there was still something that didn’t quite feel right; I couldn’t put my finger on it though, so I just chalked it up to how I had always felt different.

I remember the first time I saw a group of  butch women swagger into the club; they seemed strong and confident and I thought to myself, I want to be like them. Yet at the same time Im hearing the lesbians around me  saying things like, why would you want to be like a man when we are celebrating womanhood and rejecting patriarchy and  toxic masculinity?

Butch women weren’t the only ones unwelcome, Trans women and drag queens  were also given a hard time, they for wearing the trappings of femininity that feminism rejected.  I understood the feminist arguments, and I admit, at that time, I too felt uncomfortable seeing masculine bodies wearing the clothing and makeup I so adamantly rejected as sexist.   

….We’ve come a long way.

But the truth is, Trans folk have never really been fully accepted by the lesbian and gay community, even though there’s a T in LGBT,  and even though the movement began in rebellion to the frequent raids and arrests of gender non conforming folks at the stonewall Inn who weren’t wearing at least three articles of clothing of the sex they were assigned at birth. 

The movement took up the Love is Love slogan. In the name of respectability Gender nonconformity was placed on the back burner; it made too many people uncomfortable.   

It wasn’t until this current decade, or decade and a half, when I began to see young trans people freely and boldly expressing their gender that I started to really question my own identity. I saw in them something positive that I could relate to, something that I longed for as well,  and I finally came to embrace and celebrate my own mix. Now when I look in the mirror, I see me.

Jump ahead to the present and there is an obvious push back against all this free gender expression and not just by the Trump administration. It’s here in Canada too. Statistics Canada has reported that in 2023, hate crimes targeting the LGBTQI community has  increased by 69% from the previous year. -Imagine what the increase is this year with all the anti trans hate speech so freely circulating. 

There’s a political dark cloud hanging over the heads of our beautiful young trans folk.  Those who showed me how to become myself are now being threatened with erasure, with having their rights and services taken away and their freedom curtailed.  And I fear for their future if we all don’t do whatever we can to put a stop to it.

Without having seen positive examples that I could identify with, my self actualization was stilted. Its taken most of my life to know myself. My very existence has felt like a protest; I can only imagine who I’d be if I had been given that freedom right from the get go; if I didn’t have to fight for it every step of the way. 

It makes me sick to think of all these beautiful and free young people having to hide themselves, having to suffer anything of what us older queers experienced, what I experienced. I know what’s at risk. 

We can’t go backward. 

So this year I  will be walking in the Pride parade for them; for the young queers, for their future, as many of us in the community will be. 

I think that’s what an ally is, someone who recognizes  what’s at stake and how it affects us all.  Someone who doesn’t leave us alone to defend ourselves and uses their privilege to speak up against those who speak with hate against us, against any of us, really.  Someone who educates themselves because they care, and who lends their support however they can, with words, and with action.

For after all, we are not just fighting for our own rights, we are fighting for everyones, each others even. The right to freely be who we are in a world that pushes conformity and expediency. 

I keep thinking of how true that saying is: that we are not free until everyone is free,  ...everyone under the rainbow. May it be so, and Happy Pride!

(As given at the UUCV Pride service on Sunday June 29th)

Make a Wish!

Trump just announced that the US has bombed three Iranian nuclear facilities. 

Wouldn’t it be nice if we could just spin around three times, tap our heels together and shout “STOP at the top of our lungs and all this madness would disappear?

Toxicity

I just saw this come across my facebook feed and a person commented on the post saying: "That looks toxic." 

I’ve been seeing an increase in society's inclination to push away emotions and the need for support' treating both as if they are toxic. Dating apps are filled with people advertising “No drama please!" as if life isnt full of drama. Even in my church where we sing songs about being there for each other, whenever I’ve asked for emotional support people are much more inclined to referred me to a service than offer their own care.

Why are we so afraid of emotions? Is our society becoming sociopathic?

Hetero Pride

I just figured out why people think different is opposition. I think it's because they themselves are opposed to it; it makes them feel uncomfortable; they feel threatened by it so they figure that those who are different must be just as xenophobic as they are.

Most of the time I dont even think there is a thought process, just the fear response.

From my perspective as a person with multiple rejected identities I’ve learned to identify things that tell me when I'm not safe; when I see those things my self perserving fear kicks in. In most cases I am the vulnerable one, the outsider who's difference is not welcomed in a culture that wasn't created with me in mind, so I feel that my reaction Is justified; but this defense against defense is never going to work.

How do we convince the haters that difference is something not to fear without having to lie down and take their disrespect and abuse?

Now That's Messed Up!

There’s something so messed up about a society that expects kindness from everyone but pushes away those in need and treats them as if they are the ones who are toxic.

Accountability

 What if its not " You make me feel" or "You alone are responsible for what you feel, but both?

Motivation

 I don't think it's possible to get to love through disipline. 

But love can moitvate discipline big time!

Cage

I've spent so many years trying to recreate myself for the people in my life Ive forgotten what free feels like.

Belief?

Many people seem to think that if they don’t understand something  or don’t think it’s for them then that counts as a disbelief. …Heteronormative ways of being are not my thing, but that doesn’t mean I’m against them or don’t believe in them. How can you believe or not believe in a person’s identity? It just is.

Emotional regulation

 It would be a heck of a lot easier to control my reactivity if people didn’t keep telling me that what I was feeling was wrong or too much. 

Survival Mode

She said:

I've been living 

in survival mode

most of my life;

I'm fine.

The Shame of Difference

If I wasn't so different people would like me; 

if I wasn't queer

if I wasn't non-binary

if I didn't see the world differently

If I hadn't developed my own sense of right and wrong

If I didn't have opinions that I think should be given equal crediance

If I didn't complain about inequities and injustice

If I didn't believe in my own intelligence or trust my own instincts

If I didn't struggle with depression and loneliness

If I wasn't emotionally sensitive and highly reactive to my environment 

If I just didn’t feel everything so deeply  

If I could only control my anger

If I didn't believe that all people deserve care 

If I could just do better without needing others

then people would like me more

and I wouldn't be alone. 

Entitlement

All people are entitled. The notion that the world doesn't owe us anything cannot coexist with the idea that we are interconnected and interdependent. How easy it then becomes for any of us to walk past someone who is struggling, feeling sorry for them, but judging it as something we have no responsibility toward, while at the same time still expecting them to care for our needs and not make us feel badly for rushing past.

Special Treatment?

 

Caring for another's pain is not "special treatment". 

It's respect, and it's something every single person deserves. 

In Honour of The Indombitable Spirit

But they can treat you like you are inferior, and what we now know about human beings is that no one does well, let alone thrives when they are repeatedly told they are worth less.

In honour of all those who's spirits survive, despite what they've been told.

Black Sheep Deserve Respect Too!

Truth be told, I like most people and consider all people my people, until they don't consider my needs as being worthy of their consideration, but still expect me to consider theirs as just as important as they do, or even more important. It is  then difficult to not think that they somehow think they are more deserving than I.

My modus operandi has always been that to be in good relationship with one another, both parties needs should be respected.  I understand this to be the definition of respect. Human being to human being, for we are all human beings first before we are anything else.
 

My Father

I remember his scowl the most. It seemed a permanent fixture on his face. His sitting back in his lazy boy with his feet up scowling at the tv,  at my mother or at one of us.  

    

I remember how his feet smelled badly, and how when he knew it bothered you he’d wriggle and rub them together and laugh at your displeasure. 

I remember how Christmas was an excuse for him to drink early, putting vodka in his orange or tomato juice. I remember how he scoffed at every Christmas present my mother bought him saying that she only bought him tools and such so that he’d work around the house.

I remember his little contemptuous laugh whenever he upset one of us, and the smirk that said how much he enjoyed the power he held over you, over me. I remember his rage when I gave him back something of his own medicine, how he dragged me by my hair to throw me out the door to punish me, to get rid of me like he always said he would 

I don’t remember what I said to him, just his reaction.  

But I remember how hard  I fought back. 

A Forest

A forest cares for every individual tree, with the big and healthy trees giving sustenance  to the weak via the mycelium system that connects all organic life.  When all trees are healthy each tree then becomes equally responsible to the forest, and everyone thrives.

In our human society those with more have had very little responsibility towards those beneath them but those with less are expected to keep giving their  allegiance and gratitude to those above them for what they provide, even if what is given isn’t sustaining.

Is it any wonder our systems are  crumbling and everyone is struggling.

To those with more privilage than I

Think of me as having been born with a handicap. I won’t bore you with the violins, but the odds have never been in my favour; I was never expected to win; I was expected to support. 
I can only tell you that I believe I am experiencing the disproportionate effects of what my world expects of me to what I can expect from it; and I’m not sure how much longer I can carry that burden.  
I am the end of my line. 

The prodigy of my parent’s directionalless struggle ends with me. 
I have failed; as was expected. 

Rules

I was told to obey my parents; listen to my teachers; obey my employers; agree with my
betters; follow all the rules regardless of whether or not I had anything to do with their creation, regardless of whether or not they served me. Accepting that others, mostly those who demanded that I obey were served more by my compliance. 

What I had to gain was the food in my belly and the roof over my head; that I didn’t get punished; didn’t get a fail; didn’t lose my job; wasn’t ostracized by my family or community, or judged as someone who thought only of myself…

Oh wait, maybe I haven't been that good at following the rules.

.