#lbtqa ally

[peggy-sue-reads-a-book]

Paper Cranes

TW: homophobia, bullying, church abuse, swearing, assault, ED, SH, compulsive exercising, Republicans, purity culture, evangelical crap, but most of all middle school. If I’ve failed to include anything, just let me know. Fr I wrote it for me and posted it for those who might find my experience affirming. I’m all good if you need to scroll right on past a trauma post.

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The first time I ever watched homophobic bullying was in my pastor’s office. All the teens were waiting around a table for our youth pastor. There was one gay boy, a close friend of mine in a relatively small group. From the first week his family joined our church, an older girl in youth group announced to the rest of us that she couldn’t stand him because “he’s too happy and sings too much.” It was true. The new boy was the most cheerful, outgoing person I’d ever met. And he loves to sing.

The same girl gave a similar PSA behind my back when I was new. “We shouldn’t play with her because she’s weird and wears dress up clothes.” I was six. And it was true, I did wear a princess costume every day. Eventually I traded in my tutus for some looks that better reflected internalized misogyny and everyone figured out I’m funny as all shit and can get along with most anyone. I graduated from the bottom of the food chain.

So I shrugged off her hot take on my new friend. I don’t think she liked that her plans to cancel the new guy flopped. Because as we were waiting around that table she jumped up and grabbed his earlobe between her finger nails. She was super proud of her nails. They were long and scraggly like a cat and she was into filing them in public in case anyone felt too safe.

She dug her nails in on either side and no one said anything. You don’t stand up for a boy to a girl. I can’t remember if he tried to swat her off or just took it. It was only a minute but it was a damn long one. Blood started to bead around her nails. Then the door opened and she sat back down. Sunday school started.

Nothing I believed, no books, no paper, no concept of abomination could override what I’d just seen, the revulsion deep in my gut. It was more than rage. More than disgust. I still have no word for it. I was too young and the feelings that well up are still those of a thirteen year old.

It doesn’t matter what you call it. Anger like that is like walking around dead and suddenly finding your pulse because it’s roaring in your ears like a jackhammer.

I prayed to be like everyone else. To care about the same social issues in the same way. The only way I could make sense of my loneliness was that I was cursed in some way. If God loved me, he would make me content with the same values as my peers. But I had just seen someone harm someone else and not a single one of these fine, upstanding kids I’m supposed to make friends with say a damn thing.

A few years later, there was some kinda touchy-feeling Jesus shindig where everyone got real sugared up at night and had a big sing along with some college kids who were supposedly qualified to talk about the deep shit with us. If I mentioned their university you’d recognize it. Hint: assault cover ups

One guy, nineteen or so, must have gotten particularly inspired in the spirit because he starts preaching off-the-cuff about the sins of anorexia, binging, purging, and cutting. I inched backward. I tried hiding behind a football player; I was about half his width after all.

Peggy, what’s up with the bandaids?

I guess I tripped over a wall.

Hey I have a joke. How many Peggies can you fit in the shower? No one knows because—-

— I keep slipping down the drain. Heard that one.

Eat a fucking sandwich, you skinny cunt

The best part of the speech is it was addressed to us about the bad, vague other kids who barfed and otherwise screwed around. Those poor fuck-ups, insulting God’s creation by choosing to defile their bodies.

I couldn’t wait to get home and go for it, but felt a whole lot more like a compulsion than a choice.

I’ve heard this sermon twice, by the way. The second time, the pastor held up a paper crane and asked us to admire its delicacy and the skill it took to make it before shredding it up. Guess he worked hard on that metaphor.

That was me. A paper crane. Pure white, crafted precisely, folded up small. You could pinch my wings between your fingernails and pull them off. I wouldn’t bleed and you could vacuum me up. That was my power. The control in the fine lines and tight folds.

Anyway here I am squirming on my butt and waiting for my chance to burn off my two bites of pizza and Oreos. I’m pretty sure I’d made everyone laugh by scooting the cookies into my mouth from my forehead with no hands. See, everyone, I eat. Yeah, I was gonna have to get in some crunches tonight.

I wondered if I could chug enough lemon water to get diarrhea without being noticed, when somehow, we were looking at each other. The boy’s eyes were bright blue. Ice blue, like in cheesy books. Gay.

Skinny.

Leviticus. The apostle Paul.

Cutter.

It’s a powerful feeling, that two seconds of eye-contact that lets you know you aren’t crazy. That you aren’t the only one in the room who is angry. It is taking a hand to find it as wounded as yours.

Whatever is divine in this world, whatever is true and special and outside of ourselves, it is in the rage you can’t shake. If a voice is telling you that no one deserves to be treated this way, that you inherently do not deserve this, and you say shut up and shut up and shut up and it won’t

Shut up, shut up,

and your only answer is this is bullshit. You should get up and leave

Shut up

I said you are free to walk out,

I can’t,

well then I say you can. I say Truth never left you and you’re not dead.

disclaimer: I did not write this to shit on Christians (I am a Christian) or any tradition in general but the corruption that exists in specific systems

other disclaimer: the other kids in this story were literally also just kids, even the mean ones. I’m pretty sure all of them have grown into sensible adults I’d hang out with. I did not write this to shit on them either.

[jjongslight]

Reading Cocktail's lyrics and watching many other Jjong's attitudes -these, as you know, are just some things, because if i write them all this message would never end- i came to the conclusion that he might have been bisexual, even though i'm not sure because obviously we don't know. What do you think? 🤓

We really could go on forever about this, but it's not even just tangible evidence like Cock-tale's lyrics (brilliant renaming coined by @5hineepop), it's just his whole fucking vibe.

The man exudes sexuality in a way that is just so natural and omnipresent in his voice (talking or singing), his gestures, his looks, his body language, his whispers, his interactions, just everything.

To me Jonghyun is the sexiest man alive and because it's just such a big part of him as much as his contrasting softness and reflective nature, I think it just transpires in everything he does and every person he interacts with. Of course, some more than others, depending on his bond with them, so the conclusion you bring has always been on my mind from early on.

I firmly believe Jjong was not straight. I don't know if he ended up labelling his sexuality for himself or anything, but I see him as the type of person who could fall in love with anybody as long as they connected on a deeper level.

I'm sure he's had had adventures with guys (looking at the 2:34 lyrics like-). And if he hasn't well- he's fantasized about it a lot for sure (I mean it must've been hard to trust someone enough in that way? I mean if it's a part of him he wanted to keep private).

But anyways, like personally, I think that for me, as time went by, I just thought of Jjong as a gay man.

[doublebill]

Suptober 2021 Day 3: Rainbows

"There are a lot of rainbow flags and signs here." Jack pointed out as they drove through Kansas City.

They had the windows rolled down in the heat. It was a weekend in late August, they were heading back to Lebanon and decided to come via KC to pick up some supplies it was harder to find locally. Dean was regretting it now as they crawled through the packed street at a snail's pace. People were wandering everywhere, every parking space was filled.

"Oh, it's Pride weekend here. It's a time for LGBTQIA people and their allies to come together and show pride and solidarity with their community." Sam explained.

"What's LBTQA?" Jack said, his head practically hanging out of the window as he looked around at the colorful display.

"Gay people." Dean piped up from the driver's seat.

"It's Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender, Queer or Questioning, Intersex, and Asexual." Sam said, pointedly. "As a community, they've long been discriminated against and this is a time they can all come together to show that they have pride in who they are."

"Something you wanna tell me, Sammy?" Dean snarked. Sam ignored him.

"I don't know what those things are." Jack said, sitting himself back down."

The Impala had slowed to a crawl as a large group of scantily clad people, crossed the road in front of them.

"It's to do with sexuality and gender identity." Cas said from the seat next to him. Sam continued:

"Lesbians are women who love other women, like Charlie, and Claire, and Kaia. Gay means men who love other men..."

"Like Cas and Dean!" Jack gleefully interrupted.

The car fell silent. It wasn't something that had really been discussed openly among the group since Cas had returned from the Empty. The silence stretched, becoming uncomfortable, when Dean finally spoke up.

"Yeah, kid. Like me and your dad. Although technically I think I'm one of the Bs"

Cas leant over to Jack and whispered.

"That's bisexual, which means that he likes women as well."

"Thank you Mr Wikipedia." Dean said, but there was no bite to it.

A pickup pulled out of a parking space just ahead of them and Dean wasted no time turning the Impala into the vacant space and killing the engine.

"Well, come on. We might as well go see what all the fuss is about."

From the sound of it, the main parade wasn't far away. They headed towards the noise and the music. Jack enjoyed himself, immensely. He was so busy gathering every flag, lanyard, and colorful piece of tat being given out on the street that neither he nor Sam noticed as Dean took Cas' hand in his, threading their fingers together.

It wasn't Dean's scene, it never would be, but there was enough going on around him that he didn't feel too self-conscious. He was a work in progress, but he loved Cas and he didn't want anyone to think he wasn't proud to be with him. They watched as people marched, banners flying high. Floats passed along the street, throwing out baubles. Jack insisted on having his picture taken with half of the people they saw. It was a good time, and no one batted an eye at two men walking along quietly, hand in hand.

***

It wasn't until several weeks later, that Dean saw the picture. Jack was going through the stack of photos he'd gotten Sam to print out. There was Jack surrounded by drag queens, Jack with a lesbian biker group, Jack covered with glitter and strings of beads. There was also one photo of Dean and Cas together, sharing a gentle kiss beneath a rainbow banner. The picture made him feel warm and kind of glowy inside. From then on, he didn't worry about what people might think when they looked at him and Cas together. Dean was proud.