Monday, August 22, 2022

what's in a name

I know, I'm just so enlightened and fantastical for using probably the most cliched Shakespeare quote to do this, but who cares? 

I'm changing my name!!

Like the whole thing. Legally. To the tune of $300 (Thanks Seattle). Forever.

You might be asking, why, oh (insert old name here) would you want to change the beautiful name your parents lovingly crafted for you to something you just made up? 

And I'll tell you:
1-Deadnaming is mean, don't do it
2- that's sort of a rude question (and definitely a rude way to phrase a question) unless we're close enough that you ask me about my identity on the regular
And 
3- I personally am not throwing out a proverbial baby with any kind of bath water (though there's nothing wrong with doing that either if the baby in the metaphor was abusive/caused harm/is generally not something you want to be associated with) 

Okay, that one for away from me a little. 

What I mean is, like everything else in my life, the name I have picked is something that I have thought far too much about, and holds an immense amount of Meaning ™.

This Meaning™ is probably only important to some people, but those are more or less the same people that read this blog, so I figure this is a good space for it. 

So, without further Ado, here is a break down of my new name, and what it Means.

Nyx Calais Ryder Lewis

That's me! Why change my name at all you may be asking? Well, I'm non-binary, and I grew up with everyone I know thinking that I was a girl/lady/woman. I associate with exactly 0 of those words. I never have. Especially as an adult and a teen it felt like the weirdest thing ever to call myself a 'woman' and it took about a billion years to figure out that that's because I'm not one. To make matters even more confusing for all you binary pals out there, I'm also not a boy/man/dude (I refuse to put gentleman on this list, because I definitely am a gentleman and a scholar). So I fall into a fun category we don't have in English speaking western society where I am kind of both and kind of neither and I don't have a good way to explain it but hey how's it going?

So I wanted a name that would reflect a sort of inbetween could go either way kind of deal. Also I'm of cusp of gen x millennial, and I wanted my name to look cool, which meant it had to have a y in the middle of it. But I digress.

Nyx
I also wanted something that still sounded likey old name, because ile en though I've learned a lot about myself and my identity, I find that my past informs a lot of who I am even now. 

So I came across Nyx, and she was a super badass goddess of night, and a child of chaos, and I was like, yeah, I could do that. 

Lewis
Going slightly out of order, I picked Lewis because it is the English version of my old middle name, Louise. It means Warrior, which I've always loved, because my old first name means Victory of the People (I was born to be a social worker) and I loved the juxtaposition of those. So I moved it to be my new last name, since I am much more of a warrior than I'll ever be a purveyor of finely dyed garments. 

Louise is also a family name passed on through the oldest afab people in my mom's family. It's my grandma's middle name, my mom's, and was formerly mine. 

I'm not having kids of my own, so I'll likely never be responsible for anming anyone, so instead, this namesake gets to live on in my academic work, and on my new diploma for my MSW instead. Hopefully the teachers who wear it ahead of me will think that's a fitting place for it to stay.

Calais
My middle name is where I struggled for a while in coming up with what I wanted my new name to be. For a while I thought of going without, but I wanted to be able to include at least the meaning of my old last name, even if I wasn't holding on to the name itself. So I spent a bunch of time googling name meanings with 'dye', and 'ink' and 'paint' in them and came up empty. 

Then I searched for 'color'. 

Calais, in the original Greek, means Changing Color. 

Yes, you can all gasp and applaud. I mean, how much more perfect of a transitionary name can you get? But the awesomeness of this name does not end there. 

Calais (pronounced callAY) is a place in France (both my old first and middle name are french). 

Calais (pronounced CaLIEas)is a boread. What's a boread you ask (because you haven't read every book Rick Riordan has ever written)? The boreads we're the sons of the north wind in Greek mythos, and we're responsible for all kinds of shenanigans. As a family of origin name replacement, I can think of nothing better than a name that reminds me of all the great times my family and I have had on and around boats and water and sailing. 

(For those who are wondering, I'm choosing to pronounce it the Greek way)

Ryder
Ryder was a late entry to the game, and frankly one I debated leaving out, but in the end decided I liked the way they all rolled together, and I needed at least one that didn't end in an 's' sound. 

Ryder also means Warrior, so it could have replaced Lewis. It's also (almost) an anagram for my old last name, so it honestly could have replaced Calais as well, but I'd already been sitting with those names, and it didn't seem like a complete fit if I lost the reasons I'd chosen those names. 

So Ryder got added, first as a hyphenated last name, which I pondered for about three minutes and decided I absolutely hated, and got added on as an extra middle name instead. 

Cause I'm bougie like that. 

So there you have it. Not pulled out of a hat. Not to spite the people who raised me. Just a way to claim my identity in a new way, and to maybe someday stop getting misgendered literally everywhere all the time. 

My new diploma gets here in a few weeks and will be my first official document to hold my new name. Hopefully my name change hearing will happen soon after and then I get to start the endless process of sending paperwork to every agency, bank, and franchise I've ever signed anything at to get it updated. 

Yay bureaucracy!

Sunday, May 29, 2022

keep on rolling

This week a gunman shot down a class full of young children. Our school carried on. A few classes talked about it. And then we left for a long weekend. 

This morning in church the blaring of several phone alarms went off at the same time alerting everyone in the church to an Amber alert, and interrupting our Psalm reading. The service pushed on despite this. 

Last Tuesday my pastor texted me to check in on me, since I'm an educator. I had heard about the event mere minutes before, after clicking on a loud and angry tweet from Chris Evans. I'd had the chance to scroll through enough messages to know that there was another school shooting. That young people and possibly their teachers were dead. That people were once more outraged about our lax gun laws. That other people blamed everything but guns so that they could maintain a freedom given them by cis, straight, white, landowning men who understood nothing about mental health, the ongoing impacts of racism and enslavement, or the inequity their colonial claims would cause to their children's children's children. 

And that's all I can tell you about that story. Because I am so damn tired of this that I sought no further details. 

I told Pastor Katie that I hadn't really processed. Not because the information was fresh, or too complex, or shocking, but because my initial reaction was one of resignation. 

One more thing to add to the pile. One more hardship other people were dealing with that I can directly impact in exactly zero ways. One more thought to process in a brain that had been overstimulated for hours and really just wanted to rest. 

So I didn't process. Instead I told Katie about all of my immediate problems. My boss's boss resigning. My near constant exposure to covid on a daily basis and adjoining fear that I'm gonna give it to someone else. My exhaustion at working a second job not because I need the money, but because that same overstimulated brain doesn't organize time well enough to give me the ability to say "I can't, I'm busy."

I have always worried over my nature to be focused on my immediate problems rather than those across the planet. As an adult it's been easier to acknowledge that I can only hold so much. That I can't constantly think about all the problems around the world, or the US, or even my own city, and juggle my day to day. It's too much to hold.

I've learned to accept that while my view of things in my life tends to run big picture, I can't big picture the planet. Because I'll want to solve everything. Because hyper focus means I can't solve those things and remember to eat at the same time. Because I have kids in my daily life that have problems that I can help solve, and if I don't at least do that, I'm doing nothing better than pushing a boulder up a hill just to have it roll down before I reach the top. 

So I know that I can't individually change gun violence in the United States. But at least I used to care. Or pause. Or anything.

I've talked pretty openly here about my mental health and struggle around apathy and depression. Since I started meds about 4 years ago, that apathy has changed from a several weeks long occurance once or twice a year, to occasional bad days that I can mostly remind myself will be short lived and manageable. 

The apathy I feel now is different. Depression feels like being dropped down a hole and left there with no one to care. This feels like someone put out my pilot light. 

I want to be angry, furious, outraged on behalf of those kids, and their teachers, and the families who once again know a sorrow too deep to name, and the teenager who was left so without resources and support that grotesque and unnecessary violence were the only way he felt he could name his need. 

I want to flare and flash and be a fire that knows no end until kids in this country can feel safe at school, and in churches, and in their own communities. 

I want to use anger for its intended purpose: to notice a problem and create change for the better. 

But I can't.

Cause I'm not angry. 

I'm just disappointed. 

Disappointed that I know exactly how this argument will end. 

Disappointed that goddamn Donald Trump is using this as another opportunity to gain attention, and people are letting him.

Disappointed that an Amber Alert is so common place that not only did I know what the alarm on my phone was, I didn't give it more than a cursory glance before turning it off. 

And I'm just so tired of yelling at a wall that straight up doesn't care. 

Disappointment is a word we use for feelings related to sadness and broken trust. Feelings that generally lead someone feeling them to hide, disengage, or try to numb themselves from that painful feeling. 

Disappointment does not burst into flame. It doesn't give you more air with which to yell and scream and fight back. It folds in on you, and it demands rest. 

So, for today at least, the wall wins. I have no new words to yell. I have no anger to hurl. I have no energy for this fight today. 

Today I rest, and mourn, and find peace and strength in the amazing friendships and community I have been given. So that hopefully tomorrow, or maybe the next day, I'll be ready to be angry again. 



Saturday, May 14, 2022

Not a girl.

So I haven't written here in almost two years, honestly is pretty par for the course.

 Obligatory Mental Health Update: I've been on pretty consistent meds for about 4 years now? It's going pretty well, and the summer before I started my Master's of Social Work program I got diagnosed with ADHD, so I have new meds for that too. I can't take Adderall because anxiety/PTSD/weird metabolism things, and I also mostly quit drinking coffee/caffeinated pop after we found that out which has helped immensely with anxiety stuff. Overall I'm actually doing surprisingly well considering we're still dealing with an ongoing pandemic and I'm at major life turning point (getting done with school) which normally throws me into a pretty decent tailspin. 

But onto the actual point of this post. 

I'm nonbinary. This is not a fact I have necessarily shouted from the rooftops, but it is a fact. I started using a new name and pronouns in the fall of 2020 (Nyx they/them), and transitioned socially in basically all of the situations that matter to me. My immediate family knows, and the parts of my extended family that are likely to remember that information have it as well. Some of my older relatives aren't able to hold on to new information as well anymore, so I'm still weighing the options of telling them repeatedly vs not letting it be a big thing for the remaining time I have left with them. 

I'm out at work, with my friends, and at church. I'm out in grad school and to my students. I make a point of teaching they/them as singular third person pronouns. I wear my pins when I remember them. And for the most part, everyone in my life either gets it, or is trying to, or is doing their best to love me even though I confuse them. 

Overall, life is good. I've had steady (if somewhat harrowing) employment throughout the pandemic. I have amazing friends, family, and colleagues that are kind and generous people. I have a safe place to live, cats who are literally amazing, and fulfillment from the things that I do. 

And yet I still have days like this. Days where I get home from a really great class, getting ready to hang out with some of my best friends, and I'm in a funk. 

Cause I got misgendered.

All day.

Again.

For those who may need the definition: misgendering is when you refer to or label someone (intentionally or accidentally) with a gender they don't identify with. Example: when my older brother was younger and wore his hair long, people would occasionally mistake him for a girl when we were walking together. 

When this would happen, the guilty party would inevitably recognize that my fairly beardy brother was not in fact femme facing, and would apologize embarrassedly for the mix up. 

While it didn't happen super often, it happened enough that my brother would inevitably get pretty irked when it did. He always graciously waved it off. Little deal. Being mistaken for a girl isn't awful. Girls are pretty great, and long hair is a 'girl thing' after all. 

I get referred to as a girl a lot. I am a very femme presenting individual. Femme (pronounced like the French) meaning things people typically associate with the 'feminine' which, in a heteronormative society, equates to that person being a 'girl'. 

Some folks reading this may take issue with me putting girl in quotes, or even with the idea that I am not, in fact, a girl. I direct you to gender affirming resources. 

The rest of you, I just really need to vent. 

I hate being called a girl. Referred to as a girl. Assumed to be a girl. 

Not because being a girl is bad, or there's anything wrong with people referred to that way (unless it's being used to infantalize) but because I'm. Not. A. Girl. 

But I have pretty big boobs, a high voice, and an adorably feminine face, so the assumption most people make is that I am a female identifying person. 

And it sucks.

Yes, I know that introducing entirely new understandings of gender into people's lives can be a big ask, and no, I'm not expecting people to be perfect while they're learning something new. But damn am I tired of correcting people only to hear silence, or frustration (usually at themselves), or excuses, or God forbid effusive apologies. Or not correcting people because it's easier to live with the disphoric shit my brain puts me through than to have yet another conversation about my pronouns and how bad someone feels that they just can't seem to remember them. 

I don't have the mental energy for it. I don't have the time for it. And if I'm really honest, I'm running out of the heart to do it. When I spend more time being surprised and thankful that at least some of my coworkers remember to say 'they' than I do actually hearing my correct pronouns it becomes a zero sum game. 

Do I have the energy to engage in that conversation today? Do I have the spoons to put my self out there, again, to see if maybe this time a person I only see at work will catch on? Do I have the needed relationship with a person to take the time to explain what being nonbinary is? If I give that time and energy to this person, am I going to have what I need later when something non-gender related comes up and triggers my anxiety or depression?

Do I wear my closet full of dresses that I lovingly picked because they're cute and I feel cute in them? Or do I attempt to hide my more feminine features in a sad facsimile of 'butch' attire? How long do I stew in the fact that if I'd been assigned male at birth I'd get to wear dresses and not have people assume my gender, only to remember that if I had grown up a boy I wouldn't have been allowed to wear pirate leggings and pleated skirts I bought in my delightfully emo youth? 

I don't have an answer. Not to any of these questions. Not to the problems facing all the trans people, nonbinary or otherwise, who struggle with the feelings caused by misgendering on a daily basis. 

Society isn't gonna change fast enough to stop me having days like these. Maybe for my students, or even my younger bonus!siblings, or my nephew. And I'm certainly gonna do everything I can to make that future a reality. 

If you'd care to join me, here are some steps you can take:

1. Practice using they/them pronouns. 
Is it going to sound weird at first? Maybe, but the more often you do it, the more normal it'll feel. And you'll have the bonus karma of not assuming other people's genders if you don't know them. 

2. Correct other cis people. 
Cis people are individuals who identify with their gender assigned at birth (some folks call this someone's 'sex' or 'birth gender' many people have thoughts on this). And while trans people can also misgender, it happens in a much greater percentage in cis individuals. If you are a cis person, and you know someone is using the wrong pronouns/honorifics to talk about or address someone, correct them. You don't have to make it a big deal out of it or embarrass either party in the situation. You also definitely shouldn't correct if the person isn't 'out' (don't correct people if the trans person hasn't told those people that he/she/they is trans). But other than that, correct away. If the trans person doesn't want you to, they'll tell you. But I can tell you it's a breath of fresh air when I don't have to be the one constantly reminding people of my identity. 

3. Stop apologizing. 
This one is also a bit contentious, since I've heard from folks that do want an apology every time, and folks that don't want apologies at all. I fall into the latter group for two reasons: 1) if you have to apologize to me more than once, you're actions are not reflecting your words. I get it's hard to learn new things, but don't apologize unless you plan on actually changing your behavior, and 2) apologies expect a response, and I don't have one for you. I don't want to talk about or dwell on the fact that you can't remember my new name. I want to move on. Also, I'm not correcting you to reprimand, but to reiterate information. You don't say sorry when someone helps you with a math concept or gives you directions, you say thank you, and then you fuckin' carry on. 

4) Educate yourself.
This one goes for basically any group of people you don't identify with or want to learn more about. I promise you if you Google 'nonbinary people' you'll come up with more than one resource to help you learn. As much as I enjoy talking with people about issues that are important to me (and gender identity is pretty close to the top of that list) I'm not the end all be all of being nonbinary. I'm also not an encyclopedia. If you have a relationship with me and want to know more about my story, we can grab a non caffeinated beverage and I'll tell you all about it. If you want to know the theories behind gender identity and how people come to the conclusions they come to, read a book. 

5) Learn to identify transphobia.
Like all of it's 'ism' cousins, transphobia is insidious, poisonous, and absolutely everywhere. From sitcom jokes about women being the man in a relationship, to Mrs. Doubtfire's hijinks, to the surprise or alarm some folks still seem to express when people who are assigned male at birth express any kind of feminine attitudes or traits, we literally perpetuate transphobia on a daily basis. Take time to question humor when it refers to someone's gender or gender identity. Keep an eye out for off hand comments that assume norms when it comes to dress or mannerisms. 

There's about a million more ways you can help, but it's friend time and I have to go make bread. 

Love you all!

Sunday, August 16, 2020

Civil War and the First Avenger TL;DR I relate Marvel to voting and its rad.

 So I write in this blog like once a year anymore, which is a horrible track record, but it's primarily an outlet for my random thoughts anyway. So thanks to the like 30 people who bear with me and read this whenever I do randomly get the urge to publish something. 

If you're a Marvel fan in any sense of the word you know my title refers to two different works that feature the late, great Captain America. Hero of World War 2 turned propaganda turned evil (occasionally) for some unfathomable reason. I'm not a comic buff, because ADHD makes even reading comics that long difficult if I'm not REALLY engaged with the content. Lucky for me the MCU exists so I can enjoy all the star spangled glory of Cap in real, moving color, which engages my brain enough to allow me to go back and check out the comics with Chris Evans delightfully animated voice as narration. 

When Captain America: First Avenger premiered, I didn't even go see it. Cap was my least favorite avenger. He was a boring, apple pie eating, war touting American hero, and as someone who has been a conscientious objector since I learned what that meant from the DCOM Cadet Kelly, I had zero interest in the exploitative nature of a hero designed to perpetuate the myth that war was our only form of international conflict resolution. 

For those of you screaming at your screen, I have done a lot of learning in the past nine years (god, Cap 1 came out 9 years ago, y'all), and my opinion on all of the above has shifted. Cap isn't just propaganda (although the argument could be made that he is that as well). He's the machination of a couple of young American, Jewish artists who really wanted to punch Hitler in the face before the US even entered WWII. He's the dream of defending values and morals that was taken from so many young men in the 40s who were deemed unfit for service due to physical ailments or disabilities. And most importantly, he is an adaptable mold that is used throughout his history to explain and crystallize American (read: US. We're not the only country on two continents) values throughout time. He's the amber through which we can reproduce the dinosaurs of the past, and reshape them into something relevant. 

So why am I writing about Captain America nine years after his first movie? Because lately I have been watching the country I live in topple everything important to me in almost every way imaginable. And as I pondered the best way to explain my frustration for a governmental system that would rather support big budgets for paramilitary police forces, our broken economic structure, and a despot who frankly never should have been elected in the first place over the good of its citizens I come back to Cap. 

Captain America: Civil War is by far one of my favorite MCU installments. It didn't do everything I wanted it to as far as tying Cap's Nazi fighting past to his fascist opposing present (maybe, had it been made in 2019, there would have been more interplay there), but as I look at our current timeline and ponder what Cap is really fighting for in the movie, it perfectly fits as a metaphor for what my brain has been wrestling with since senators and 45 started calling for the economy to reopen MONTHS before anyone in the US should have been going about their business as usual. The fight we face in this upcoming election (and the years that follow) isn't between Democrats and Republicans, or even Progressives and Conservatives. 

It's between Democracy and Capitalism. 

Now, as I can feel several of my relatives rolling their eyes at me through time and space, allow me to explain my shocking statement: I am not suggesting that these two things are mutual exclusive. The whole of mutual exclusivity is a myth we tell ourselves so we can feel right while assuming others are wrong. In fact, none of the dichotomies I stated above are mutually exclusive. People and systems are always going to be too complex to fit into any kind of binary system, be it bipartisan politics or heteronormative gender norms, but that's a blog post for another day. 

So if I'm not trying to make the point that you can be democratic OR capitalist, what am I saying? 

For those raised with a Christian background, or even just Christian adjacent (which is everyone who grew up America after Europe got here), who've likely heard the phrase "A man cannot serve to masters" or the more to the point, "Man cannot serve both God and money". 

Obviously there's a lot wrong with this statement as an inclusive rhetoric, (I have oft seen it reworded as "One cannot serve...") but outside of the obvious copy edits one could make to modernize the quote, the general message remains: You choose where you put your loyalty, and if its to money, it doesn't get to be to people. 

I have spent many hours debating about and trying to find language for my feelings about Capitalism. The idea of currency is abhorrent to me. As is the entire structure of an economy based on the acquisition of said currency. The inner workings and utter frustration I face at the thought of a system that is built on the idea of gaining literally nothing because it represents your ability to acquire more nothing is shriek inducing, and again, could be a blog post unto itself, so I won't delve too deep here. Let it suffice to say that I understand that we have currency because it fits in pockets better than goats, and also inflation is a lie rich people tell to pretend they have more nothing than they do. 

But back to my point. 

Captain America's film trilogy culminates in Captain America: Civil War, in which Cap faces off against long time friend, Tony Stark, the entrepreneur and former militarized weapon salesman who believes that the only way to keep the general public safe from the potential destruction wrought by superheroes is to make sure that all said superheroes are on full display for public consumption and debate through something called the Sokovia Accords (The Superhero Registration Act in the comics). Cap on the other hand is against the Accords, stating, in perhaps the most distilled form of this very blog post "If we sign this, we give up the right to choose." 

I realize that the metaphor is muddy at best, Steve Rogers and Tony Stark are both complex characters that have a lot of variation in their beliefs about who they are and what they stand for, but if we burn them down to their essence, crucible style, what we're left with is palpably related to the struggle we face as the 2020 election looms ever closer. Which master wins out, people, or money. 

Obviously Tony also cares about people, and that's why he's pro-registration. He has seen first hand the horrors of uncapped capitalism, I mean, power, and he sees only one option, oversight. Cap on the other hand values choice and personal responsibility over a corrupt system controlling the actions of its citizenry.

Now I know some of you just jumped on the fact that I essentially just undid my own argument. Cause it might look like the statements you just read place Cap firmly in a laissez faire (Why is that phrase so impossible to spell?) sort of camp, while Tony seems to take a more "democratic" stance of having government regulation. But in this comparison, dear friend, you have fallen into a deadly trap. Because you have conflated our system of government with our system of economy. 

Democracy and Capitalism are NOT the same thing. And you can't use them as equivalent in the same way that you can't take health statistics from California and falsely extrapolate them the entire country to convince people who have never taken a statistics class that the global pandemic isn't affecting the US. Or at least you shouldn't. Because that would be ethically wrong and morally reprehensible. It can't even be a conversation about apples and oranges. It's like trying to compare the health benefits and of apples versus the taste of broccoli. Somehow the answer to the debate is simultaneously "both" and "gross". 

Cap's anit-registration stance has nothing to do with economics. He's supporting a fundamental right of everyone who lives in the US to choose. Now, I will be the first to point out that as a white guy originally from the 1940's, Cap could potentially be a little out of touch with more modern understandings of who "everyone" includes. But Chris Evans' portrayal and interviews gives me hope that the actor's own flavor gives Cap a willingness to understand his own privilege, learn, and grow that inherently makes him a hero.

Tony, on the other hand, sees everything through an economic lens. Not intentionally, but he was raised by a "self made" millionaire who taught him that his brain could be used to make money, and that that was the important thing to focus on. So of course he uses the same economic formulas to come to conclusions about people. Everything is a numbers game for Tony. What he can get, and later in his life what he can give, are still based on a capitalistic idea of scarcity and zero-sum games. So when people with superpowers start racking up a body count, Tony does the math and concludes the same thing that responsible economists do when a market becomes a danger to the whole structure: put restrictions on it. 

Here's the thing about trying to debate broccoli and apples: there is no winning. Particularly if you're coming at the debate with two foundationally disparate understandings of what you're debating. If your slogan is Apples are Good (for you) and your opponent is arguing that Broccoli is Bad (tasting) your debate will be a nonsensical mismatch of facts and figures that are utterly unrelated to the opinion polls taken by the opposition. False correlations between numbers of people who like broccoli and the health benefits of good/bad tasting foods will be drawn. Smear campaigns against apple falsely claiming that they are healthy will be waged. Broccoli lovers will become a fringe group because how could anything that tastes bad be healthy if apples, which taste good, are healthy. Chaos will reign. All because you're not actually having the same conversation. 

Tony is looking at oversight through the lens of a capitalist who came up during the 80s and 90s, the height (at the time) of unbridled consumer culture in the US. Steve is looking at oversight through the lens of a young man who watched fascism rise in Europe and was given the chance to directly combat it. Both are doing what they thing is right to keep people safe. 

Civil War came out in 2016, just 6 months before the election that would give us a leader who has done his darnedest to dismantle most of the structures that keep actual liberties and freedoms in place in the interests of capital gain and power. We weren't talking about the lives of citizens then the way we are now. We weren't dealing with international protests against a corrupt policing system, an administration that tries to systematically walk back the rights of its citizens, or a global pandemic.  We weren't hearing rhetoric, almost on the daily, that supports "getting the economy moving" even to the detriment of our most vulnerable citizens. 

We also weren't talking about the systemic issues around race in our country. We weren't looking more closely at our para-militarized police forces and wondering if they were really performing the function we wanted them to perform. We weren't asking bigger questions about the availability of healthcare, or the nation's ability to recoup losses if the economy tanked again. 

So here we sit at a crossroads. The 2020 election is in 78 days. In 78 days we find out if the US is stronger as a democracy, or a capitalism. Because in 78 days the citizenry of the US that is allowed to vote, will have the option to declare where their loyalties lie. You can be a capitalist and believe in democracy. You can be a democrat or republican and agree with capitalism, but they aren't the same thing. I can't even use them the same way in those to sentences, because the literal words don't make sense when used as the same part of speech. Ultimately one of those things is more important to you, money or people. 

In 78 days, many of us are gonna make a choice about which one is more important. And that choice is going to shape our country, and in some ways the world, for the next four years. Team Cap or Team Iron Man? Democracy or Capitalism? People or Money? There's a lot of ways to frame the question. 

But what really matters is your answer. 

Friday, June 28, 2019

Thirty and Flirty and Thriving

One of my favorite country songs growing up was a well known tune about a girl who falls in love with a boy while he works summers on her grandpa's farm. It's a beautifully sad tune, with a haunting sort of melody and surprisingly unproblematic lyrics.

One of those lyrics, the one that got a good chuckle out of the adults that heard me sing along with the radio, rings a little truer than it used to:

Cause I still remember
When thirty was old

Problem is, 30 still feels pretty old. Like a title I don't really have any business claiming yet. I spent last night pondering how it is that I'm entering my 3rd decade of life when I barely feel old enough to manage my day to day life.

And then I did the math.

I celebrate my first ever 1 year anniversary with a significant other in September, and I have yet to completely freak out even though it's terrifying and I have no idea what I'm doing.

Next month, I will have lived in my apartment for 4 years.

I start my 6th year at my school in the fall, my third year there as an assistant teacher.

October will mark my 9th anniversary of moving to Seattle. A decision I made entirely on my own and with a job and housing lined up.

I graduated college 9 years ago, despite anxiety and depression nearly causing me to fail several required classes. I have worked in one or both of my fields the entire time I have been out of school, and I sought therapy to work through the issues that made being a student so hard for me.

I've traveled to Europe by myself on two occasions

I have made, found, and kept in touch with the family and friends who have shaped me into the compassionate, outspoken advocate that I hope I'm growing up to be.

I'm starting grad school in the fall to pursue both my goal of being an advocate in the world, and helping the United Methodist Church get it's head on ...better.

I'm currently celebrating my birthday in Hawaii with on of my best friends because I save up air miles.

I'm still growing, and I still have a lot of things I need to work on, but I'm in a way better place than my anxiety addled brain would sometimes have me believe.

So as a stand on the porch of an adorable cottage, one whole day into my 31st rotation around the sun, watching it rise over mango and palm trees in one of the most beautiful places I've ever seen, I just wanted to let you all know that I'm 30 and flirty and thriving.

And I couldn't have gotten this far without you.

Saturday, June 22, 2019

Pride 1: Show Up

Ok y'all. I know it's been a minute since I've posted regularly, but get ready, cause this queer lady is mad as hell and it's gonna take more than one post to work it out. So why don't we start with a good old call to action?

First and foremost, happy Pride everyone! I realize I'm a touch late, but such is the life of a busy school teacher with a million things to get done and two jobs.

On the note of Pride: as many of you know, my birthday is in June, and falls very nearly on the anniversary of Stonewall. Thus, since I figured out who I am and the multiplicity of reasons why that date should hold meaning for me, I have attended Pride festivities and marched in the parade with my church and other United Methodist congregations that support and affirm the LGBTQIA+ community.

A lot of you may also know that this year I turn 30, and as a celebration of being even more officially an adult, a friend and I are traveling to Hawaii to get old in style. We made these plans months ago, and I have been looking forward to the trip.

And then Pride started.

Don't get me wrong, I'm still jazzed to turn thirty on Pride, in the rainbow state (there will be pictures, it will be glorious) but I'm also heart broken that I won't be able to stand proudly with all of my siblings and declare that fear, hatefulness, and shame have no place in our celebration. Because this year, more than ever, we all need to stand together.

As much as I want Pride to be nothing but sunshine and rainbows, this year it will be tinged with a little bit of storm cloud. A little bit of the fear that we face everyday will inevitably be a part of our celebrations as we recall the events of this month so far in Boston and Washington DC and Detroit, and dread what's to come.

Will our celebration be derailed by that same fear, hatefulness, and shame? Will some group try to make us feel less because they don't understand who we are? Surely not in Seattle. Surely not in 2019.

Except now there's going to be a maga rally in Cap Hill the same day as the Trans Pride March.

If there was ever a shit or get off the pot moment for 'moderate' folks, it's now.

You don't get to be middle of the road any more. The time for passive homo/transphobia, has long since come and gone. Your opinion can no longer be a shrug and a look in the opposite direction. Because we don't have time for that shit.

If you're a queer/trans folk. Please stay safe. Do what you need to do to be emotionally and physically well this month. If that means saying fuck it, and celebrating as loud as ever, do that. If it means keeping to yourself this year because the idea of being caught up in one more awful news story is over whelming, do that.

If you're not LGBTQIA+, show the fuck up. We need you. We need your support. A lot of us aren't gonna have the bandwidth to hold the banner this year, but it still needs to be waved. Wildly and with abandon.

Don't take it from our hands and try to carry it on your own. That never works. But hold it with us. Hold us when we get too tired to keep going. Cause we will. And then help us back up when we're ready to keep walking.

Be loud and proud about the people in your life who are out and proud. Listen, and help us tell our stories. Tell them with us. Educate those that don't understand, and do it with love.

Make change where you can. Stand up against systems that oppress and demean people for any aspect of their identity, and remember that that list is long, and justice is only justice when it's intersectional.

But most importantly, be there for your people. Love and support them. Give them whatever help you can, and if you don't know what that means, ask. Sometimes being there for someone just means being present. So show up.

Tuesday, February 26, 2019

A prayer for GC 2019

It's here. A day I've been simultaneously waiting for with baited breath and dreading for the past three years. A million miles away (more accurately a few thousand) strangers, friends, and siblings in Christ have gathered, are currently discussing, and will decide in fewer hours than I'd like how full a member of my church I get to be.

I have been assured by clergy and laity alike that regardless of the UMC's decision today, the mission of PNW churches won't change, even though our name might. So all told, my daily life and the work I do as a queer Christian person will remain very much the same. My norm, locally, will stay consistent. And yet my anxiety remains.

Because this isn't about me. This is about something so much bigger.

Humanity needs a win. It needs power to take a step back, and recognize that it has the privilege to make change. The United Methodist Church has enough of both to be that win. We, as a body, have the ability to be a force that recognizes hate and oppression, not just against queer folks, but all marginalized groups in our midst, and rejects it. We, as a body, have the privilege to call out our own systemic bigotry, and apologize for the harm it has done. And I pray that we, as a body, have the grace and compassion to hear hurt when our siblings tell us they are hurting. And the humility to recognize that reconciliation is healthier than denial. And the love for our fellow humans that can lead to that reconciliation.

We need a win. We need oppression to speak to power and for power to hear it, really hear it, and recognize the wrong that it has done the oppressed. We need Jesus' real teachings, the ones about love, and peace, and being light in the world to outweigh legalistic understandings about who is worthy of that love.

Please be that win. Please let this General Conference be the one that we can proudly proclaim lifted up the lowly and and hurt and broken, and put the needs of others before the misguided prejudice of power.