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missmitchieg · 4 years ago

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Alex, Not Alexis

When Alex Mercer was born, his doctor called him a baby girl. His parents dressed him up in a pretty pink onesie with white stripes and took him home. They named him Alexis Abigail Mercer. They liked to call him Lexi for short.

At a year and a half old, Alex was sat in the living room watching Sesame Street while his mother, Rebecca cooked dinner and his father, George sat reading the newspaper. He smiled and giggled when Suzanne Farrell appeared in her pretty pink tutu and danced around like a ballerina. He clapped as she twirled and stood in fifth position, and Rebecca decided then that her little "Alexis" was going to take ballet lessons when "she" turned two.

At two years and a month, Alex was put into his first ballet lesson, clad in a pretty pink tutu, just like Suzanne. He was taught how to stand in position, how to move his arms and hands so he could dance, just like her. He smiled proudly at himself as he twirled in his little tutu, his proud mother watching with happy tears in her eyes.

When Alex started school a few years later, he was nervous to be in a new environment. He's always been a little anxious about trying new things and about being away from mommy and daddy. The little boys and girls at school already seeming cliqued up and excluding him did not calm him down.

For a few years, he would come home from school upset and crying because the other kids laughed at him for panicking, needing his Epi-pen, or whatever bad thing happened that set him off like a boy pulling his pigtails. When he didn't, he would tell his mom he was sick, because he did sort of feel sick, and ask for chicken soup and a mom-approved show on the TV.

But when he felt alright, he would just go and suffer the consequences. Until one day in third grade when he met this boy named Luke Patterson. Luke was nice to him and would yell at bullies for being mean because "She's not doing anything bad! Just leave her alone!" and run to tell a teacher to get them in trouble.

"Thank you, Luke, for making them go away." Alex would tell him and push his bangs out of his face, behind his ears. He was sort of starting to hate his long bangs and long hair. But he loved his pink clothes.

"No problem!" Luke would respond and grab his hand, and they would take off together in search of crickets and grasshoppers to chase.

They stayed best friends all though out the rest of their elementary years, and into middle school. His parents loved Luke for Alex. A little boy who shared their sweet "Alexis'" faith and was nice to "her"? He seemed absolutely perfect. Until they got to know him.

See, Luke was sort of a stubborn, rebellious boy who liked rock bands and electric guitar. It only got worse when the pair met Bobby Wilson in the seventh grade and introduced them to Reggie Peters, who wore leather jackets and Bobby only encouraged Reggie, Luke and Alex sneaking out to see bands they liked, and who called their sweet baby Alex. Little did they know it was because Alex had asked the three of them to call him that.

Alex laughed as he stood in the arcade with Bobby, Reggie and Luke, beating Reggie at Street Fighter for the third time that day. Their arcade trips had soon become a regular thing, and they had learned to ignore the strange looks they got from the fact of the four of them being three boys in rebellious rocker boy garb and a girl in a baby pink hoodie, grey baggy shorts, hair shoved under a black snapback, and Nike sneakers.

"Way to go, Alexis!" Reggie cheered him on, fist in the air in celebration at his best friend winning yet again.

Alex blinked and felt his smile falter just a little, giving Reggie a fist bump. "Thanks, buddy."

Reggie took notice of her smile shrinking, though, and frowned a little, tilting his head. "Hey, you ok? Something bothering you?"

"What? No, I'm fine. Just-" Alex stopped to take a deep breath, shoving the anxiety building up in his stomach down. He knew his friends would be fine with such a small change, so why did the idea of asking this of them make him want to throw up the pizza they just ate? "I- Can you guys stop calling me Alexis? I don't like that name. I want to be called Alex." He admitted and bit his lip, bouncing on his heels.

"Oh, sure." Reggie shrugged like it was nothing.

"No problem, Alex." Luke agreed with a smile.

"Alex it is." Bobby nodded. "But is Lexi still ok?"

Alex considered it for a second and nodded with a smile. "Lexi is still ok, but thanks for asking first."

"Hey, we just want you to be comfortable, Alex." Bobby smiled and Alex chuckled, bumping shoulders with him. "Thanks, boys."

"Anything for you, Lexi." Reggie promised. "Besides, it would be weird of me to call you a name you don't like when I ask everyone to call me Reggie instead of Reginald. Just feels wrong." He said, scrunching up his face when he spoke his full name.

"Or Bobby instead of Robert." Bobby cringed.

"Or Luke instead of... Um, Lucy." Luke admitted and bit his lip, watching his best friend's reactions carefully.

"Luke fits you better." Alex told him, silently promising to keep his real name a secret from the rest of the world for all eternity, and he saw appreciation in Luke's eyes at that. So his best friend was both Christian and transgender (and maybe so was he). It didn't have to be a big deal. Luke was still Luke, and he would always be just Luke to Alex. He smiled, silently pointing his thumb at the game machine.

"I like Luke!" Reggie grinned, giving him a comforting pat on the back.

"Yeah, man. It sounds cool. Sounds like a rock star name." Bobby commented and Luke chuckled as he put another coin in the slot to play (and lose) again.

So it was settled. His boys called him Alex and Lexi and he called his boys Luke, Reggie and Bobby. It worked for them. It felt right.

He knew he couldn't just ask his parents to stop calling him the name they picked out that they loved so much, so he just didn't. And he definitely wasn't planning on ever telling them that he was pretty sure he was a boy like his best friends, not a girl like they had previously thought, because he'd heard the awful way his very conservative, very religious parents had talked about "disgusting queers and their sick desire to poison the youth and watch the world go up in flames".

So yeah, he was very much content with keeping it a secret until he turned eighteen and moved out so he could do whatever he wanted to, like cut his hair and legally change his name and get a whole new wardrobe that he didn't have to hide in the back of his closet behind pretty church dresses and ballet class tutus. Like his cool hoodies and pants and sneakers. He still loved the color pink. It was still his favorite. He was just a boy that liked pink. Not a girl. It didn't have to be a big deal.

And he did keep that secret, very well. For a while. Some punk kid at school told his parents and they told Alex's parents, who promptly threw a massive tantrum about having a daughter, not a son, and how they did not raise "Alexis" to be like this. How they were not going to raise a "queer" and Alex needed up to clean up "her" act or "she" could find another place to live because "she" could not stay there if "she" was going to be like that.

"And what if I like the way I am, dad? What if I like that I think I'm a boy, and like that I think I might like Luke?" Alex finally snapped and crossed his arms, and both of his parents were shocked into silence.

"Really, Alex?" Luke asked softly, uncharacteristically quiet for once. He looked up at Alex from the couch where the pair were previously finishing Math homework together, his eyes wide and hopeful.

Alex softened and gave Luke a little smile, nodding slightly. "Yeah, Luke."

"And Luke, how do you feel about our Alexis?" George sneered at Luke and sent him a bitter glare, almost daring the boy to challenge him, and Luke, well, he never said no to a dare or a challenge.

Luke pursed his lips at George and gave him a sickly sweet smile. "Well, I dunno who Alexis is, sir, but I do know that Alex is one of the coolest, smartest, most talented and amazing boys I've ever met." He answered, putting an emphasis on "Alex" and "boys" just to piss George off.

"Luke." Rebecca spoke up, fists clenched and eyes trained on Luke. "Say that again." She ordered slowly, as if asking him to speak again would change the words that came out of his mouth.

Luke scoffed, standing from the cough and dropping his text book to the floor. "I said, ma'am, that Alex is one of the cool, smartest, most talented and amazing boys I've ever met, and I like him, too." He smiled and took Alex's hand in his, giving it a comforting squeeze and smiling when Alex squeezed him right back.

"Get out of this house! Both of you!" George commanded, pointing toward the door.

"Bye!" Alex waved and walked out with Luke, as if this was something perfectly normal and fine, getting on his bicycle. "Let's head to Bobby's. Reggie's already there with him."

So now Alex was taking up residence in the Wilson garage. He guessed he really should've known they would find out some way or another. He wasn't openly telling people he was a boy named Alex, but he also was necessarily acting like the little ballerina princess people used to know as Alexis. No, now he was just that "girl" that always hid "her" hair under hats before just cutting it all off, and that "girl" that played the drums and hanged out in the arcade or played basketball with a bunch of guys.

Reggie came soon after, when his parents' fighting had just become too much for him to handle. Alex always felt bad and wished there was some way he could snap his fingers and magically have everything be fixed, but there was nothing he could do to help anyone. That didn't help his anxiety, either. The only thing that helped, was drumming. So he drummed, a lot.

The boys ended up forming a band that they called Sunset Curve. (Reggie came up with it. Reggie also designed their logo. Both things he was very proud of. And the boys loved it.) It took them a few years, Luke and Alex deciding they were better as friends, Luke moving into the garage, and some gigs at book clubs, but they were starting to get big. Big enough to play The Orpheum.

And then three of them ate some bad hot dogs.

Alex guessed the afterlife wasn't so terrible. Sure, he was dead and he couldn't eat pizza or Bobby's mom's famous meals anymore, but dying brought him and Luke and Reggie to Julie. With Julie came Ray, and Carlos, and Flynn. And sure, he couldn't actually talk to Ray or Carlos, but he could talk to Flynn with Julie's whiteboard or Julie relaying messages to them, so he had that.

And then came Willie.

Sweet, funny, handsome Willie that was nice to him, and answered his questions, and used the name Alex had asked him to. Sweet, funny, handsome Willie that showed him how to move objects by focusing his energy into his hands, and gave him a new coping mechanism for his anxiety. Sweet, funny, handsome Willie that liked to cause trouble with cops, and went by "they" and "them", which Alex would always respect, because he knew what it was like to be misgendered and he was never going to do that to his sweet Willie.

There was just one little thing bothering him on one random Saturday. He hadn't yet told Willie that he himself was trans. He was going to! He wasn't going to keep that a secret from someone sort of like him. He just hadn't gotten around to it yet, but now he would.

"Hey, Wills." He piped up as they were sat in a museum, shouting a little and talking through his stressor of the week.

"Yeah, Hot Dog?" Willie smiled, running their finger through Alex's soft blond locks.

"I'm trans. I'm a trans boy." Alex told him after a moment of hesitation, leaning into Willie's gentle hand.

Willie raised their eyebrows and their smile widened, scooting closer to Alex. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Ok."

"Willie?"

"Hmm?"

Alex blushed and chewed on his lip, taking a deep breath and looking Willie in the eye. "I really like you. A lot."

Willie gasped softly and felt their jaw drop as they looked at Alex, a soft smile forming on their face. "I like you, too, Lexi."

Alex smiled at the way the affectionate nickname sounded on Willie's lips, raising a hand to tuck Willie's hair behind their ear. "Then, can I kiss you?"

Willie let out a giggle and nodded, leaning in slowly. "Yes."

Alex leaned in the rest of the way and pressed his lips against Willie's, his hand grasping Willie's neck gently. He pulled away slowly after a while and bit his lip, still unable to hide the smile on his face. "That felt really good."

"Yeah." Willie agreed.

"Can I do it again?"

"God, yes." Willie nodded immediately. "Yes please, Lexi."

Alex giggled then and kissed Willie again, softer and slower this time.

So, yeah. Maybe the afterlife wasn't perfect, but it came pretty damn close if you asked Alex, so he wasn't going to complain.

#julie and the phantoms #alex mercer #luke patterson #reggie peters #willie #jatp fanfic

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saqrqa3d · 3 years ago

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I had a sobering conversation with a fellow Muslim mom yesterday on the topic of Muslim teenagers falling into homosexuality.

We had been talking about our eldest sons and how they are both fast approaching adolescence, with her eldest son being 11 and mine almost 9. We were both reflecting on how it feels like the kids had just zoomed through their first decade of life so fast, and were now on the cusp of the dreaded teenage years. As they say, "the days are long but the years are short."

I said, "We are moving into new territory with a new set of challenges. It used to be the challenge of constantly changing diapers, daily nap wars, toddler temper tantrums and fights with siblings over toys. Soon inshaAllah, it will be talks about driving safe, hanging out with good friends who don't smoke or do drugs or curse, not getting addicted to video games, and being careful with the opposite gender."

"Or...the same gender," my friend said. "That LGBT stuff is happening in the Muslim community too. Just most Muslim parents have no idea what their kids are up to."

My friend told me about a case she had recently stumbled upon: two Muslim girls from very religious practicing Muslim families who came out as lesbian lovers. These two girls had been a couple for a while right under their parents' noses, way before anyone noticed anything.

They had both been born to very practicing Muslim families in a large American city with a big Muslim community. Both girls grew up praying five times a day, wearing hijab, going to Islamic school. One girl was even homeschooled by her mom for the four years of high school in Saudi Arabia, where the family had relocated to try to live in a wholesome Muslim country. Both girls had memorized a good portion of Quran and had teachers they would recite to daily.

But they still became lesbian as teenagers, a couple years after they first met and became friends. Then it escalated into something else.

One girl had always been a bit of a tomboy, wearing oversized hoodies and cargo pants with her hijab instead of the abaya. The other girl was more feminine. They met through their families, because their mothers were friends and both active in the community. The two girls, around 18 years old, clicked and started hanging out as friends. Soon they became inseparable, doing almost everything together. It didn't raise any red flags because best friends of the same gender are always together.

Then the girls decided to travel to Egypt for a year to study Arabic. Their parents allowed them to go there together, thinking that learning Arabic in an Arab country was a good thing. The two young women, now in their early twenties, lived together in their own little apartment in Egypt and were alone together for a year.

A while after they came back home to the US, the nature if their relationship was accidentally discovered when a family member of one of the girls stumbled upon some explicit text messages. Then all heck broke loose.

The families of both girls were shocked, stunned and speechless. Their mothers cried. The families were racked with grief, debilitated by depression and confusion and guilt. The girls felt a bit guilty, but thought they really had nothing to apologize for and were almost relieved because the secret was finally out.

The two young women, now in their mid-twenties, are living together on their own in a new state, far away from their parents. They have a "baby," a pet dog who lives with them in the apartment. They are content creators on social media, making posts and videos about being unapologetically "queer and Muslim."

Muslim parents, nurture your relationship with your children from a young age. Pave the way for a deep, real, meaningful parent-child relationship. Set the tone for the relationship early, establishing open lines of communication from childhood. Nothing can replace this foundation that only you can build.

Don't rely on popular western "daees" or celebrity speakers to educate your children about this sensitive topic. This is a subject that these celeb Muslim speakers don't broach, because they are too much in the spotlight and don't want to be seen as bigoted homophobes. Some of the biggest celebrity "shaykhs" even make statements confusing the issues, implying that there's nothing incompatible with Islam and LGBTQ. Famous American Muslim activists and social justice warriors push, blatantly and brazenly, the liberal LGBTQ agenda of "tolerance and acceptance" for "all genders" and "all sexual orientations" because Allah is merciful. No one corrects them.

Is it any wonder that, in this mess of confusion, young Muslim teenagers are utterly confused?

Parents, rely on Allah first and foremost, and then do your best in the realm of parental efforts. Nothing can replace your love and attention for your own. There is no good substitute for your genuine care about the details of your child's inner life, thoughts and feelings. There is no adequate replacement for the bond you should have with your children, where the kids know they can come to you with literally *anything.*

Have frank conversations about sensible topics even if you feel kind of uncomfortable. Let your young kids ask you endless questions, and answer them patiently. Allow your children to mess up and then come to you to admit their mistakes, without you flying into a rage. Let your kids, from their toddlerhood and early childhood, express their real thoughts and genuine feelings to you, and find a calm safe haven in you.

You need to be a soft place for your kids to land.

This starts very, very early on in the child's life.

The preparation for the tumultuous teen years is in early childhood years, well before the start of adolescence. The window which parents have to instill character and habits and righteousness into their children is jarringly short--and then that window closes.

May Allah grant us all protection against the fitna of the times we live in, and safeguard our children and the youth of the Muslim umma, ameen.

#teen #homosexuality #parenting #societal influence #relationships #lesbianism

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novantinuum · 5 years ago

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Bi the Way...

Fandom: Steven Universe

Rating: Teen

Words: 2.8K~

Pairings: Steven/Connie

Summary: Connie has a question, and also something to say.

Or: the one where Connie comes out as bisexual :D Set post Steven Universe: The Movie.

You can find the AO3 link in the reblogs! (I have to omit it from the original post these days to ensure this will show up in the tags.) If you enjoyed this, I’d greatly appreciate your support through reblogs here, or kudos on AO3 as well.

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Bi the Way...

Outside the familiar coziness of Steven’s bedroom, the late autumn rain pours steadily, the choppy waters of the Atlantic crashing onto shore with a ferociousness Connie hasn’t seen for a number of months. Historically, Beach City has been blessed to be host to consistently good weather. But even the most consistently stable meteorological systems aren’t immune to the odd unexpected shake-up. It’s a necessity to clear the air with a great thunderous clap, sometimes. It relieves pressure that’s built up long term amongst the clouds. It leaves the atmosphere noticeably cleaner, the dirt below sparkling with that fresh scent that comes about after torrents of cool rain.

On this particular afternoon, she’s found that this is a lesson that holds just as true for people as it does the weather.

It begins with a stray comment, as things often do.

They’re watching TV, the two of them, tangled together on his bed. About once a week they’ll try to have one of these cuddle sessions, just some time alone together to relax and enjoy each other’s company in private. Working alongside a myriad of Gems to aid in the restructuring of an entire society can be excruciatingly stressful at points, and so can rigorous AP classes and the eye-rolling drudgery of high school drama. There’s no placing a hierarchy on these things for them, no matter their outward difficulty or importance, they’re all just... the challenges in life they have to win. And on occasion, they’re the challenges they need a quiet break from. Both of them are no stranger to throwing themselves at a problem and working endlessly towards a solution until they hit rock bottom and crash, but over the years they’ve started to recognize this tendency for the bad habit it is. It’s okay to take 'me' time, Connie’s constantly reminding Steven (and herself) whenever she catches him about to stubbornly sneak away to the galaxy warp with clear stress lines rimming his eyes. And without fail he’ll groan halfheartedly, knowing he’s been caught red-handed, and retire to his room to relax with a book or a board game or a few rounds of Lonely Blade: Resurgence instead.

Today’s workaholic distraction is a marathon of old Under the Knife episodes. It’s been a while since they’ve binged through this show, and when Steven brought it up and she started to feel super nostalgic about it, in a flash their entertainment for the afternoon was selected.

“Gosh, I honestly forgot how good this is,” he says in the middle of an episode, nudging her arm with his elbow. “The satirical nonsense, the passion, the drama? Eh?”

“Yeah, it’s pretty pulpy,” she giggles, nudging him right back. Then, directed at the unhearing characters on screen: “Ughh, Marigold, come on, just go out with him already! We all know you like him!”

“I can’t believe they kept this a slow burn for five entire seasons,” he comments, pursing his lips. “They’re literally perfect for each other!”

Connie throws her arms down against the mattress, palms stretched wide open. “I know, right?? Adrien’s like, a total dreamboat of a man.”

“Yeah, he is pretty cute,” Steven says, an unmistakable blush coloring his face and ears.

Connie pauses upon hearing this, gazing at her boyfriend thoughtfully with a soft smile as he continues to watch this old episode with the same level of investment he exhibited upon its first airing. He props his chin in the cradle of his hands, which of course only further exaggerates the curve of his chubby cheeks. His eyes are blown wide with youthful endeavor, the TV’s glow glinting against his irises in a myriad of continuously shifting colors. He is pretty cute, she thinks, his own adorably smitten words echoing through her mind. And then that blush...

There’s a question she’s had for quite a while but has never asked. Something she’s suspected of him, but had no concrete proof of. The reason? Even if they’re best friends, and now— boyfriend and girlfriend on top of that— the idea of asking him something like this just felt too... what’s the word... invasive. Not that there’s anything wrong with discussing this sort of stuff, no, no, of course not! That’s definitely not what she means. But talking about something as important as this, she just knows it would turn into an in-depth conversation, as most worldly topics tend to do with Steven Universe, and it’s only inevitable this conversation would eventually turn back on her. On why she cared to ask in the first place. And that answer was... well, straightforward, but something she’s not sure she’s ready to broadcast. As if she’s taken command of but a single fragment of Garnet’s future vision, in her restless mind she’s already mapped out what feels like every possible response he could have to her. Most of them are no more than anxiety laced fabrications, things he would never ever dare think of with his upbringing, but believe her when she says she’s been burdened with considering every possible outcome in great, excruciating length.

Now that she knows for sure there’s a strong chance he’s the same way, however... that narrows down these possibilities significantly.

Connie threads her fingers together, gathering the courage.

Come on, you. It’s just Steven. No script, no planning, just... say it!

She opens her mouth to speak before her anxiety laden mind can beg to differ.

“By the way, I’ve been meaning to ask- do you like girls and guys?”

Steven glances away from the television set to meet her curiosity head on. “Oh, you mean like, romantically?”

Running in automatic, she nods in confirmation. Here she goes. The answer to both her spoken question, and the question of which river of possibility this conversation will careen down.

He grins, scratching at the side of his neck. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, I guess I do! But I think I could like anyone, really. Guys, gals, none of the above. Doesn’t matter to me. That’s... okay, yes?”

“Silly, of course it’s okay! You don’t need my permission to like who you like. I just asked because I-“ Her heart pounds as she pauses briefly, focusing on the nervous jitters, but not in fear. Not anymore. Instead, that soft fluttering in her heart is nothing less than sheer exhilaration. She parts her lips once more, bravely speaking her inner truth into reality for the first time in her life. “I’m like that too. I... I’m bisexual.”

Her boyfriend’s whole expression lights up so bright she may as well be looking at a newborn star.

“Oh, really? That’s awesome!” he says, throwing an arm around her shoulder to side hug her. (Knowing him, his keen empathetic ability likely led him to sense the internal battle she waltzed through just to state this out loud.)

The forgotten soap opera continues to play in the background as Connie gives a bashful laugh.

“Hehe, glad you think so. You’re actually, um... the first person I’ve ever said that out loud to,” she says, blushing.

Steven looks as if he’s about to say something in response, but then he pauses— fades into a silence that’s deliberate and measured— as he gazes back at her. Drinks in the moment. Wonders how he could be so lucky to hold her trust like this, or how— heck, he could be thinking anything, she has no idea! Unlike him she can only catch small glimpses into how he feels, the truth woven like gossamer threads through his words and actions, but in this one hallowed moment she doesn’t need to guess. The spark of affection dancing within his dark eyes is soft, perhaps softer than he’s ever looked at her before.

More than anything, Connie feels seen. Years back, long before sword training and Gem missions, long before that fateful day she discovered the beautiful temple (it looked like it could very well be a Hindu goddess, and that cultural connection alone made this slice of beach instantly familiar) hidden on the other side of the hill and decided to park herself there with a book, she’d grown used to feeling invisible. Before she bravely chose to step into this world of magic, it’s as if she forgot that she even had a choice to stand out, to openly shine as the unique, extraordinary individual she is. Admittedly, she still struggles with that to this day. But whenever she’s with him, with her Steven? It’s as if her universe explodes into a kaleidoscope of dizzying color where everything is so, so beloved and worthwhile. She’s worthwhile.

She can only hope being with her makes him feel the same way.

“I know it’s silly after everything we’ve been though,” she continues in time, still having a few things on her mind she suddenly has an exhilarating need to set free, “but I always kinda worried that people... would belittle me for it, I guess. Especially my parents. That like, there’s some upper limit to the number of unusual things about my life they’ll accept.”

“It’s not that unusual, though,” Steven says with a shrug. “I mean, Ruby and Sapphire are legally married. Sure, the Gems aren’t exactly women, but they do present that way. And then Pearl was in love with Mom, of course. Oh, and Amethyst once told me, and I quote, that ‘like a whip, I swing in every direction.’”

Connie snorts at this, and even he can’t help but laugh.

“Let’s see, what else...” he muses, peering at the ceiling thoughtfully as he continues to list the queer individuals he knows of. “Jenny, Buck, and Sour Cream are all dating each other. Mr. Smiley finally reconnected for real with his old comedy partner, and they’re dating. And my dad may not be seeing anyone but he’s always been openly pansexual.”

“Well, it’s not usual in my family,” she says glumly, nestling her chin into his bed’s comforter as the terrifying possibility of rejection hits her harder than expected. Her glance roams. On the television screen, the episode they were watching had paused automatically, a message asking if they’re still there popping up. Clearly it’s been a while since anyone’s handled the remote. She blinks past tears, shame settling at the pit of her stomach for even daring to cry them when others have gone through so much worse, and you’re lucky, what do you even have to feel lost about, and suddenly she begins to feels shameful just for feeling shame, and what cyclical, bittersweet irony is that, and what’s wrong with her, why can’t she stop obsessing over distant possibilities that likely have zero chances of coming to pass, why can’t she—

Steven breaks through her downward spiral with a gentle hand on her shoulder, rubbing away the physical evidence of her stress. She melts into his touch, forever smitten by this kind of casual intimacy they get to experience together here, alone. It’s innocent, still merely the wandering hands of two teenagers barely beginning to break the boundaries between close friendship and romance, but when words fail she’s discovered that touch can be a language of its own. And right here, right now, she knows he’s talking her down from the mountain of anxiety she’s marooned herself on. He’s leapt effortlessly into the stormy sky and cradled her in his arms, ready to float back to Earth’s surface together.

Outside, the rain continues to slap in rhythmic sheets against the deck. She shivers. Maybe it’s in reaction to the gloomy weather beyond the sliding glass door, maybe it’s despite it. She has no idea.

Steven scoots forward on his belly a bit, and rolls to his side so they can talk face to face without turning their heads. During this, his shirt rides up— ever so slightly— ambient light catching on the lower facets of his gem. The reassurance found in that beautiful, familiar smile of his is dizzying. “Well, at least no matter what happens with your family, you have more than one, huh?“ he says.

“Yeah,” she breathes shakily, eyes glistening with emotion at the metaphorical hand he’s extending with that statement.

Hopefully it’ll never have to come to that, though.

“I do think my parents will be fine with it, if I ever do tell them,” she continues, dabbing the dampness from her eyes. “Especially my mom. She works with queer patients all the time at the hospital, so she’s pretty used to stuff like that. I just... get anxious sometimes.”

“Yeah, I get that. It’s tough dealing with identity stuff.”

She hums, mind immediately harking to the years he spent doubting his own personhood. Seeking any kind of physical connection she can get, she nuzzles her cheek against his forearm, which he’s currently leaning on. They lay there like that in comfortable silence for a good while. Steven, laying on his side, one hand lazily trailing through her wavy hair, and her, curled up close to his heartbeat, hugging his free arm.

“Hey, while we’re on the topic, can I ask you something?” he asks eventually.

She nods. “Anything.”

“How’d you distinguish bi from pan, when you were figuring all this out? I know they’re pretty similar, and my dad tried to explain it a while ago when I asked, but I still don’t exactly get the nuances.”

Connie shifts to sit up, pursing her lips as she considers her words here. She’s done a lot of research into queer identity in her time, checking out books from the school library and looking up stuff online on incognito mode, but there’s probably still a ton of holes in her knowledge. “Hmm, okay... so I’m no sole authority on any of this of course, but to the best of my knowledge bi means you’re attracted to two or more genders, and pan means you’re attracted to people, but like... their gender isn’t really a factor in the way you experience that at all? I‘m pretty sure? There seems to be a lot of overlap. From what I’ve read people just sorta pick whatever feels the best to them.”

“Huh, that makes sense,” Steven says. “So picking labels is kinda like fusion, then! Whenever I fuse, we decide our own name, and it’s sorta... based on a feeling, y’know?”

“Yeah! And like, with Stevonnie... Even though Amethyst kinda inspired the name, they still had to figure out who they were as a person on their own.”

“Exactly! And then, even if two fusions are made of the same gem types, they could still have different names because they’re different people, and that’s what they choose. Anyways, that’s just what this reminded me of,” he says, glancing up at her with a bashful smile. “Honestly... I don’t actually know how I identify.”

The corner of her lips edge upwards. “That’s fine,” she reassures him with a pat, “it took me a while to sort through all this stuff.”

“I really wanna figure it out, have a word for it, but nothing’s clicked yet. For a while I thought I was pansexual like my dad, but that didn’t quite... feel right. Like��“ he too shifts to sit up, folding his feet under his legs as he continues to speak— “I love getting to kiss you, but no offense, I don’t... know if I'll ever want to have- to do anything more than that, y’know?”

She snickers at his inability to simply say the word sex. He’s seventeen now, he knows full well what that is, yet still his faux innocence on the matter remains. It’s one of his charms.

“None taken. Love and attraction is a bizarre, complicated world.”

“You can say that again.”

“Bogus.”

“Whack,” he agrees with a playful grin. Reaching for the remote, he presses play a few times to wake up their streaming site. The episode starts up right where it left off, and they continue to watch together, the air somehow feeling sweeter after her much needed release of emotion.

The satirical medical drama quickly fades into the background, though, as Steven’s hand curls around hers.

“Hey,” he says quietly, blushing. “Even if I don’t know everything about labels yet, I do know one thing for sure.”

She raises a curious brow. “What?”

“I know I love you.”

And before she can open her mouth to respond in kind, he’s kissing her cheek, swooping in like a bandit just like she did for the first time all those months ago, and her heart swells with affection for this boy. He leaves her with one kiss, then two. At the exact moment she turns her head to reciprocate— to sneak a gentle kiss to his cheek right back— he turns as well and she ends up meeting him at the lips. It’s but a quick peck, but she's almost floating. The two of them stifle a laugh as they gaze at each other, their noses almost brushing together.

“Hey, it stopped raining,” he comments then, grinning against her cheek.

She drapes her arms around his shoulders, and hugs him close. Her eyes trail to the glass sliding door. The clouds outside are still thick, but after releasing their load they’re visibly lighter now.

“Yeah,” she breathes, feeling her muscles finally relax as she sinks into her best friend’s embrace. “Yeah, I guess it finally has.”

#su #steven universe #connie maheswaran #connverse #su fanfiction #su fanfic #my writing stuff

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obsidianarchives · 5 years ago

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My Heaven is a Republic

I’m not a religious person. A huge reason why is my grandmother, a deeply critical woman who moved to Detroit during the Great Migration. She would often call out the Black churches in Detroit for their hypocrisy: always a poor congregation and a rich pastor. She was spiritual, though. She believed in God, and because of her I went to several Catholic elementary schools. And like many queer kids who went to religious schools, I left them as a self-proclaimed atheist, having experienced firsthand the disingenuousness of a religion that taught love and forgiveness but, in practice, hated difference. I was bullied mercilessly and had teachers who belittled me. I saw clearly that none of the lessons in chapel or religion class seemed to be practiced by anyone, save a few tender adults.

Then I got older and noticed that queers and women were reviled by the people I knew who were church-going. I was the only teen in high school not in a church youth group, and the only one who spoke up loudly about reproductive rights, gay rights, and the dangers of capitalism.

It’s no wonder that I had my own spiritual texts.

The first was Octavia Butler’s Parable of the Sower, which I read at 10 years old in a book club that my sister attended. We both loved reading, and as my mom was a comically neglectful parent, my sister looked after me, which is why I was the lone child at a book club of old Detroit radicals at Detroit’s Unitarian church. We both read Parable of the Sower in one night.

The book changed me. Detroit in the ’90s felt a little like the apocalyptic Oakland of the novel. Empty crumbling ruins. The yearly fear of homes ablaze on Devil’s Night. The puzzling undercurrent of why the suburbs had street lights but my neighborhood did not.

For me, it was barely fantasy to imagine the world of Parable, a world of ecological and economic nightmares spun from greed and disregard of Black and brown neighborhoods. When Lauren, the main character, turns from her beloved father’s Christianity to a grassroots spiritual movement of her own, it struck a chord.

God is change

Pretentious little nerd that I was, I knew there was a reason people throughout history had religion. It could explain what happened around you, what happened to you, what happens after you die. As an anxious child, I fretted over death and the unknown. As a sensitive child, I fretted over the destruction of the rainforest, of the dwindling elephants killed for ivory. I knew that these were big feelings to grapple with, but also that saying it was God’s plan seemed like an empathy cop-out. I didn’t do drugs or drink as a teen (though I would later), but I deeply understand Marx’s assertion that “religion is the opium of the masses.” It’s so much easier to think that something or someone else will fix your woes and pain. Religion is a better drug than the shitty brick weed I smoked in college, but I imagine it results in the same numb feeling of “not my problem.”

All that you touch

you change.

All that you change

changes you.

In high school, I was in a youth volunteer program that was heavily political. Because my sister attended, and she watched me and my brother, we would tag along. I owe my entire political education and radical mind frame to this time. I learned the history of my city and country, about the political power of art and gardening, about food and environmental justice, about gender and racial inequality. Nearly all the adults who ran the program were queer, as well as several of the older teens I admired. I started to notice homophobia more in the world, and was troubled. We were taught to be youth leaders, to advocate for social change, to think of a new way of living — as we saw all around us how capitalism failed my hometown, gutted its beauty and resources, mowed down its Black and Chinese neighborhoods to build freeways for white suburbanites to travel more easily through the city. Change is inevitable, and we learned to be the change we wished to see in the world.

The only lasting truth

is change

Empires fall. That’s what world history teaches us. What is perhaps less obvious is that change is slow. The US is still not post-segregation, post-lynching, or post-homophobia. It can be overwhelming, the cycle of two steps forward and one step back. But change happens regardless, it is constant, and, most importantly, it can be shaped communally and personally.

I’m not immune to the fact that my other spiritual text — the His Dark Materials series by Philip Pullman, like Parable of the Sower — also interrogates Christian-based teachings. The books are dense with Western art and religious imagery, allusions, and symbolism, but the most impactful part for me happens on the last page of the last book, The Amber Spyglass:

“We have to be all those difficult things, like cheerful and curious and brave and kind and patient, and we’ve got to study and think and work hard, all of us, in our different worlds, and then we’ll build...the republic of heaven”

Lyra, the main character, is home from her adventure, having saved the multiverse. In doing so, she has preserved Dust, the physical manifestation of the intentional good things conscious beings create. Dust is not finite, it can be created, through hard work, through treating people kindly and patiently, through learning and growing. I use this as my moral (golden) compass to guide me every day. I maintain a calm, kind, public vibe, even when I'm angry or frustrated. I compliment people freely. I donate to strangers’ GoFundMes. I offer to drive for friends and coworkers. I practice active listening. I challenge people when they say fucked up things. I’ve become a Professional Mentally Ill Queer Weirdo through my podcast, The Gayly Prophet. This is hard work, especially for someone like me, with depression and anxiety, where it would be so very easy to be dismissive and apathetic and withdrawn from the world. But that’s not the kind of world I want other people to live in. I hear from listeners every day that my openness has changed their lives and their relationships with themselves — this is the kind of world I want to live in.

I don’t do any of these things looking for some reward in a cartoon afterlife. The reason I try to live a moral and just life is that I believe the meaning of my life is to shape a better world. To build the republic of heaven.

We do not worship god.

We perceive and attend god.

With forethought and work

We shape god.

In the end, we yield to god.

We adopt and endure,

For we are Earthseed,

And god is change.

#Octavia Butler #Parable of the Sower #LGBTQ+#His Dark Materials #The Gayly Prophet #Philip Pullman

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provincianx-blog · 6 years ago

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what i learned from unlearning everything that i know

lessons from middle school, aurora, and beyond.

at the age of fifteen, my mom forced my brother and me to leave our home in hayward, ca upon discovering that my dad had been using meth again and wasting all of his money on catfishes on the internet.

my mom and dad had been separated for longer than my brother and I were aware of, but my mom finally had the courage to really leave him in july of 2011. she loved him her entire life, but she was done taking care of someone that wasn’t taking care of her. she was done taking care of someone who didn’t love her enough to take care of himself. she was done.

while this seems incredibly simple, leaving hayward prompted what would turn into a 7 year identity crisis.

as an outcast at every school i transferred to, i found a community on this website with my best friends from middle school and random strangers who loved harry potter and other fandoms as ridiculously as we did. true commitment to friendship would transcend from anonymous messages on tumblr to mutual follows on twitter. and here we are: in the age of twitter.

upon switching up different meds, after over a decade of looking for mental and emotional stability, i found out that i have bipolar-1, which still doesn’t make that much sense to me, but i’m beginning to understand it more than i did before.

i’m grateful to have been obsessed with star wars when i first saw revenge of the sith on opening night because of my tita and her husband’s work perks. i loved padme and she was my first crush but also my first example of a strong girl in mainstream film in addition to mulan (bruh i used my mulan costume for like 3 years and never gave a single HECK). i would then beg my dad to take me to blockbuster to watch the original trilogy, where i met carrie fisher/princess leia, who would radically transform how i saw the world and myself.

i grew up with my tita and tito. they took care of me when they were in college, and they’re still taking care of me now. i want to be able to take care of their kids and love them as much as they loved me growing up. i love them with all that i am and all that i can give.

i studied politics because i wanted to make sure that my younger cousins and my baby brother would have a better world to grow up in than i did. it seems that my undiagnosed mental illness of nearly 14 years has been exacerbated by the political climate we live in today in 2018.

i learned so much about life by learning about my own history, and i hope that everyone has this opportunity in their lifetime. it feels great, and the only one who seems to really get it is ariana grande.

so here are 14 things i learned from being mentally ill and emo while being passionate about wanting to make the world a better and more habitable place.

1. don’t trust the feds: a lot of 2nd amendment boys actually don’t trust the government as much as people think, and the 2A comes from settlers’ distrust in colonial Britain. the problems we see today are because the GOP has lured these same people and their kids (and their kids) into their corner by advocating for organizations like the NRA; gun control has reached the Supreme Court, but the 2nd amendment took precedent (i believe). gun control must come from the state and local governments, but political participation in these arenas are very low, especially for younger voters. i, as someone who has been involuntarily hospitalized despite voluntarily seeking medical help, am not allowed to buy a gun in the state of california for 5 years. and honestly, i really don’t care because i don’t want to need a gun anyway, but the poor and the middle class in the south feels that they need guns.

2. stay woke: deray said this nearly everyday after michael brown was shot by darren wilson in ferguson, missouri. michael brown was my wake up call to reassess my complacency in the status quo and my participation in reinforcing anti-blackness. in the bay area, the n word was used so casually in places like union city/hayward that we became so desensitized to it. it’s still used casually, but non-black people like myself have no agency in saying it because we’re not black. it’s as simple as that. i began noticing how my family reacted to what would turn into the Black Lives Matter movement, and for the first time, i felt that i could no longer trust my relatives if they were complicit in the murders of black youth simply because they were at the wrong place at the wrong time. i couldn’t even talk to them without crying because of how upset i got from the anti-blackness i would hear. i began to isolate myself and found community on twitter.

3. our youth is a reflection of how good things were and how good things can become if we learn to build community: in addition to the community i found on tumblr through avatar, harry potter, and the beatles, i found community with all the losers who had xbox’s instead of ps3′s. we would hang out and play search and destroy (which i still cannot succeed in after all this time smh agjhgarhdfhre) or 1v1 each other on rust. my nerd friends would let my brother and I play with them regardless of how much we sucked, and they hyped me up even when my KDR was trash. these friendships would then transcend from mw2, halo 3, and into runescape. my brother is now really good at overwatch, and the friends i made in middle school are also really good at overwatch. the difference now is that they’re making money off of it, and i’m just like, “let’s get this bread, nerds!” thank you for being there for me even though i sucked at everything i tried doing. i was reminded of this when i watched “mid90s” by Jonah Hill. our youth was such a pure period of time, but it was also the time we lost ourselves through imposing harmful social norms onto each other, such as the idea that a girl cannot be “just friends” with a boy. but - here’s the kicker - i’m queer, and i don’t really like cis-het men hahahahahahahahaha but whatever.

4. becoming american made me forget who i am: our immigrant parents teach us that the only way is to assimilate into white America, which is essentially what happened to black and brown people following the civil rights movement. the notion of egalitarianism/equality has been nothing but harmful for all of us nonetheless, fueling debates on affirmative action and pitting black people against asian people. one of my best friends from elementary school is in prison for trying to make a living with the resources and skills made available to him. he was apprehended in thousand oaks. he is a black man, and we grew up in the same environment, but his life has been so different since we were in elementary school. the concept of equality/egalitarianism stemming from civil war gains (13th-15th amendments) has manifested into the racial inequality we see today; in other words, the idea that white americans and POC are equal has been harmful because this has never been true and continues to be untrue. my filipino friends and i would get bullied by white latinos for not speaking english in america, which is why i learned to hate myself and my culture. i love myself and my culture, and i am fighting so that i can return home to the philippines someday.

5. our bodies are different, and that’s okay: can y’all believe that i got bullied for not having boobs in the 3rd grade? this is what happens when young girls are sexualized so early. boys participate in this, and they turn out to be shitty boyfriends later on. girls will be girls. girls just wanna be treated like human beings instead of sexual objects. i don’t think this needs to be explained further.

6. america is a settler-colonial state turned global power, and that is problematic: this country began with the murders and deaths of indigenous people because of imperalistic pursuits. it was built on the backs of slave labor from africa. it was reinforced by colonialism through the conquering of countries such as the philippines. we’re socialized to believe that there’s no place like america and that america is such a good place to be in, but that is only true for white Americans and POC who have integrated into white American suburbs.

7. know history, know self: - jose rizal

8. if my life wasn’t funny, it would just be true, and that is unacceptable - carrie f. fisher

9. at times, being bipolar can be an all-consuming challenge, requiring a lot of stamina and even more courage, so if you’re living with this illness and functioning, it’s something to be proud of, not ashamed of - carrie f. fisher

10. rebellions are built on hope - princess/general leia organa + jyn erso

11. we have nothing to lose but our chains - assata shakur

12. keep ya head up - tupac shakur

13. everything i’m not made me everything i am - kanye west

14. i remember you was conflicted

misusing your influence

sometimes i did the same

abusing my power full of resentment

resentment that turned into a deep depression

found myself screaming in the hotel room

i didn’t wanna self destruct

the evils of lucy was all around me

so i went running for answers

until i came home

but that didn’t stop survivor’s guilt

going back and forth trying to convince myself the stripes i earned

or maybe how a-1 my foundation was

but while my loved ones was fighting the continuous war back in the city

i was entering a new one

a war that was based on apartheid and discrimination

made me wanna go back to the city and tell the homies what i learned

the word was respect

just because you wore a different gang color than mine’s

doesn’t mean i can’t respect you as a black man

forgetting all the pain and hurt we caused each other in these streets

if i respect you, we unify and stop the enemy from killing us

but i don’t know, i’m no mortal man

- kendrick lamar

#star wars #fandoms #reflection #politics #writing

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loribos · 5 years ago

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New Post has been published on Toronto Events, Activities and Entertainment

New Post has been published on https://www.torontonicity.com/2020/01/17/things-to-do-valentines-day-toronto-2020/

Things to Do Valentine's Day in Toronto 2020

A Valentine’s Day dinner at a restaurant is a safe bet for the most romantic day of the year, but some years, you want to mix it up a bit. If you want to skip the fancy (and often expensive!) V-Day dinner, there are many other things to do Valentine’s Day in Toronto 2020 where you can spend time together doing something you both enjoy. Check out these fun Toronto events for Valentine’s Day 2020 below:

The Second City Totally Likes You

If you are looking for fun Valentine’s Day events in Toronto, you might want to attend Second City Toronto’s newest comedy show, The Second City Totally Likes You. The Second City comedy troupe mocks dating, sex, meet-cutes, and meet-uglies in this super-charged show that features classic material and brand-new sketches. This 90-minute comedy has two shows on Valentine’s Day Friday, February 14, 2020 at 7 p.m. and 10 p.m. Tickets are General $32 (you have to share a table) or Rail $52. Purchase tickets online or at the box office. You can add dinner at Wayne Gretzky’s (next door) for an additional $33.04 (two course) and $38.94 (three course). Second City is located at 51 Mercer Street, 416-343-0011. (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push();

Couples Massage at Novo Spa

Start Valentine’s Day off with a Couple’s Valentine’s Day package at Novo Spa in Yorkville that includes:

55-minute Therapeutic Massage by Registered Massage Therapist

15-minute Head Massage or Foot Massage

Couple’s private steam, jets, colour therapy shower

Beverage for two and chocolates

Red Rose

The Couples Valentine’s Day package is $410. Other Valentine’s Day packages include the Valentine for Two Couples package, $350, which includes a Rose Petal Foot Soak & Massage (15 min); Rose Salt Scrub (15 min); Chocolate Body Mask and Chocolate Mini Facial (40 min); couples private steam, jets, Colour Therapy Shower, beverages for two, chocolates and red rose.

Paint stations set up for Paint Nite at Midtown Gastro Hub in Toronto.

Valentine’s Day at Paint Nite Toronto

Express your creativity at Valentine’s Day Paint Nite events on Friday, February 14, 2020 at 7 p.m. at Marche Movenpick; Fox and Fiddle; Originals Ale House; Pie Bar; Chelsea Hotel; The Rhino Bar & Grill; and Krepesz Cafe & Bar. Participants will paint a specific painting with step-by-step instructions provided by the class instructor. Cost is $45 plus tax. Read about Blogger Diana Condolo’s experience at Paint Nite.

Motherhood The Musical at Lower Ossington Theatre

Immerse yourself in the challenges and pleasures of motherhood in the comedy, Motherhood The Musical, at Lower Ossington Theatre. The musical focuses on soon-to-be first-time mom Amy; lawyer Brooke; mother-of-five Barb; and single working mom Tina. The show features the Billboard Top 10 comedy hit, “The Kids Are Finally Asleep;” plus “Costco Queen;” and “I’m Danny’s Mom.” Performances on Valentine’s Day Weekend 2020 are on Friday, February 14, 2020 at 7:30 p.m., Saturday, February 15, 2020 at 3:30 p.m. and 7:30 p.m. and Sunday, February 16, 2020 at 3:30 p.m. Tickets are $59.99 plus tax and service charge. Purchase tickets online or at the Box Office. Lower Ossington Theatre is located at 100 Ossington Avenue.

Taking Back Valentine’s Day

Enjoy a night of full tribute sets to Jimmy Eat World, My Chemical Romance, Paramore, Fall Out Boy & Thrice on Friday, February 214, 2020 by members of PONY, Pretty Matty, So Young, Weak Hands, Wild Black, Feels Fine, Nice Going & Baby Band. The event is a fundraiser for Supporting Our Youth, which works to support the health and well-being of queer and trans-spectrum youth. Doors at 8 p.m. $15/NOTAFLOF at Junction City Music Hall, 2907 Dundas Street West.

Valentine’s Day Couples Cooking Class at The Chef Upstairs

Looking for things to do Valentine’s Day in Toronto 2020 that are collaborative? Take the Couples Cooking Class at The Chef Upstairs, 516 Mount Pleasant Road, 416-544-9221 on Friday, February 14, 2020 at 6:30 p.m. You will cook the following four-course meal during the class: The class is also available at Vaughan location at Hwy 7 and Centre Street.

Complimentary glass of Prosecco to begin, served with flatbreads, dip, olives and cheese;

Seared Sea Scallop with red grapefruit and avocado;

Roasted Celery and Garlic Soup, topped with Crisp Prosciutto;

Bistecca alla Fiorentina: A 3” thick porterhouse steak grilled to perfection, drizzled with a balsamic glaze and served with sautéed greens, oven-roasted tomatoes and cannellini beans with olive oil, salt, and pepper;

Dark chocolate mousse with chocolate-dipped strawberries.

Beer, wine pairings and non-alcoholic beverages are available for purchase during the class. Cost is $250 per couple plus HST. All cooking classes are non-refundable and must be paid for when booked. If more than 7 days’ cancellation notice is provided to The Chef Upstairs by email or phone, you will be eligible to reschedule to a future class. (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push();

Jully Black as Caroline in Caroline, or Change, photo courtesy Mirvish

Caroline, or Change at Winter Garden Theatre

Valentine’s Day events in Toronto 2020 include the performance of Caroline, or Change starring Jully Black as Caroline and featuring Measha Brueggergosman. Caroline, a single mother of four, is a black maid working for a Jewish family in 1963 Louisiana. In response to suggestions that Caroline’s salary of $30 a week is insufficient, her employer tells Caroline that she can keep the pocket change she finds in the laundry. This act of racial condescension creates a moral dilemma for Caroline and symbolizes the imminent social and economic tensions in the U.S. The musical runs from Jan. 30 to February 15, 2020 with a performance on Valentine’s Day – Friday, February 14, 2020 at 7:30 p.m. – at the Winter Garden Theatre at 189 Yonge Street. Tickets are $129, $109, $89, $59, and $39 and can be purchased online.

Post Malone at Scotiabank Arena

Post Malone performs at Scotiabank Arena (formerly Air Canada Centre) on his Runaway Tour on Friday, February 14, 2020 at 8 p.m. Special guests include Swae Lee and Tyla Yaweh. Tickets $934, $819, $585, $502, $429 and $351 and can be purchased at Ticketmaster.

Afternoon Tea at The Ritz-Carlton, Toronto

Enjoy The Ritz-Carlton, Toronto’s Weekend Signature Afternoon Tea on Saturday, February 15, 2020 and Sunday, February 16, 2020 from 11 a.m. to 1 p.m. and from 2 p.m. to 4 p.m. Some of the delicious menu items include Smoked Salmon & Egg Sandwich; Lobster & Crab Salad Sandwich; Cucumber, Whipped Herb Brie, Lemon Zest & Watercress; Caramel Ganache Cake; Classic Pecan Tart; and Vanilla Mousse Tian. Cost is $54-$69. Call 416-585-2500 for reservations. The Ritz-Carlton, Toronto is located at 181 Wellington Street West.

If you have any suggestions for things to do Valentine’s Day in Toronto 2020, please leave a comment.

#things to do Valentine's Day #Valentine's Day events

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rebelwheelssoapbox · 6 years ago

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Pretty vs. Visually Interesting: Thoughts On Gender, Beauty and Disability

(TW: The following article discusses oppression, gender, ableism, body image struggles & verbal abuse.) As an artist and photographer, I am drawn to people who look visually interesting versus someone who just looks pretty. To be clear, one can be visually interesting and attractive. Attractive is a very subjective thing that can vary and although one’s idea of attractive might be influenced (consciously or unconsciously) by what society deems as pretty, it does not need to conform to such rigid ideas to qualify as beautiful. Yet as a woman, I am aware of the great lengths society goes to remind me that I should strive for pretty. For although it is 2018, in ways we are very much stuck in the highly rigid and toxic gender roles, where a man's worth is defined by his ability to earn money and thus be a “good provider” for his family and a woman's worth is defined by her ability to attract a man via her ability to conform to the societal idea's of beauty (aka: pretty).

[image of a cisgender appearing man and woman on their wedding day in their wedding attire].

This of course, is toxic for many reasons: for one, it portrays marriage, monogamy and having kids as something that is right for everyone, when it is not. It's also based on a very hetero-normative standard, when there are other equally valid sexual orientations. It falsely suggests there are only two sexes and two genders, and lastly that one's gender (a man-made concept that says that one's appearance and behavior is based on what's in your pants) is determined at birth by one's sex (which is just not the case) But I digress. The idea of pretty (at least in regard to women) is a rigid standard of beauty that typically favors whiteness, cisgender appearance, sexy – but for the sake of the male gaze, slim over fat (or fat in “acceptable areas” like the chest and ass), and certainly bodies that are not visibly disabled. And thus is also highly toxic because it's not something that everyone can achieve.

[a model looks towards her right]

And if a woman's worth is supposedly determined by her ability to conform to pretty, (which of course is not actually true, but that's what is promoted in our society), then cue all kinds of internal struggles between who a person is (how they appear and how they feel) and who they think they ought to be if they are to be accepted, loveable and good enough. If they are to be of worth.

Though not my only identity, as a visibly disabled woman, society makes it pretty clear that I can not be pretty. According to society, disability (when visible) can not be pretty, as our bodies do not conform to the able bodied standard. In fact, the more visible my disability, the more backlash I get. This is not to say that disabled people can not be beautiful, because we are. We're just not pretty – but we don't need to be.

In fact, as an artist and photographer who favors imperfection in their subject, I strive to look visually interesting over pretty. This is a conscious choice. I wear my disability identity as a badge of pride using hashtags like Disabled AF #represent, and thus taking the power back.

[image description: a circle design with a purple, blue, purple, yellow and then orange border. It's circles within circles. The main fill of the circle however is red. The text is yellow "Disability Pride is not about loving your symptoms 24/7. It's about rejecting the idea that they make you inferior. #disabledAF #represent " ]

When I think of pretty, I think of boring and being boxed in. When I think of visually interesting, I think of subversive and freedom.

But I didn't always feel this way. When I was a little kid, I used to love going through various fashion magazines. I liked looking at all the women, with their gaze and shiny red lips. I am sure it was partially because I was queer (bi) but didn’t yet realize it, but also because that whole world just looked so exciting and glamorous to me. Around the age of 10, I decided I too wanted to be a model, so my mom drove me to a local modeling agency where a grown woman, looked at my belly with disdain and said “You'll have to lose that.”

[a photo of a model from the 80′s with blonde feathered hair, and eyes that are looking at the camera]

It was the first time I became aware of my body in regard to worth. Up to that point, I never looked at my body in the mirror and thought I am this or that. It was just a body. It helped me play outside and I covered it with clothes, but it was never good or bad. It just was. But in that moment, it became clear that the lack of flatness of my stomach was bad.

There were other factors (I grew up in a volatile household where I was called things like stupid bitch, fat, ugly, and often I was not physically safe) but I think it's safe to say that the experience at the modeling agency, was one reason why I developed a really toxic relationship with food and weight, often starving myself till 3pm, overeating and then exercising. I also desperately wanted a boyfriend in my teenage years because I was not conscious of how family and society had influenced my idea of worth. To be clear, there is nothing wrong with wanting a partner nor a loving relationship, but it is toxic when you feel you need a partner to show to the world, look how of worth I am for I was able to attract someone who is willing to date me. In time, and especially as I was exposed to third wave feminism & the riot grrl scene in the 90's (which yes can be problematic, but in this case was helpful), did I start to reject this quest to look pretty. Did I start to view pretty as this concept of beauty that celebrate the few and oppressed the many.

[a photo of Bikini Kill, a band from the Riot Grrl era]

In fact, in time, the more visible my disability became (as it was invisible enough in my youth, where most people didn’t think of me as disabled, just clumsy), in time the more I celebrated the beauty of imperfection. The beauty of visually interesting over pretty. I realized society is going to gawk at me regardless if I dress in all beige or wear loud colors. They are going to stare whether I dance or not (literally & symbolically), so I might as well just dance (spoons willing and if my heart so desired.)

By this time, I had also cut ties with many people in my family who were not capable/willing to treat me right – the way I deserve to be treated and also became better friends with food, eating when i was hungry and no longer depriving myself, nor equating my worth with my weight.

[a photo me in Betty, my motorized wheelchair wearing black combat boots]

Not to suggest that I always have my shit together, because I don't (and that’s okay. Does anyone actually have their shit together all the time?), but for the most part this is where I was at.

And it really wasn't until recently (2018), when I decided that I would start taking selfies, that the toxic influence of pretty came knocking on my door. Yes, I am late to the party. Honestly, I had nothing against selfies. It just never really occurred to my brain that I should take them. But being a YouTuber and noticing that fellow content creators post selfies of themselves on social media, I thought I too would give it a go.

Could I take a solid photo of myself? I thought it would be interesting to challenge myself artistically, since I am normally not the subject of my work. And since I am way more comfortable behind the camera then in front of it when it comes to photography, let's see what happens when we challenge ourselves on that level. But the more I took photos of myself, the more the focus was on me and my face, the more old demons came back to haunt me.

And while I do think that when people from marginalized demographics (such as the disability community) take & post selfies, that this can be an act of protest and can be used to create much needed representation, I started to become aware how certain selfies got more likes, shares and thus validation than others.

When I posted a selfie and no one responded, I started to feel self conscious and wondered, is it me? Is it the photo of my face that is somehow not enough? (Is it not pretty?) My past started to creep up on me again as I started to view my physical appearance with a super critical eye, noticing anything that looked “out of place.” Noticing the contrast between the selfies with the “perfect” makeup, “perfect” angle and “perfect” lighting (who got tons of shares & likes) versus mine who had none of those things. Even if I wanted to, I didn't have the spoons (energy) to put that kind of effort into a selfie and it started to mess with me.

[an artsy selfie with a blue tint and I am looking towards the right]

It wasn't until I started to take more artsy selfies, did I realize this is how I am comfortable being seen. It wasn’t till I took a more creative approach, did I start to care less how many people liked it, if people liked the photo, because I liked the photo, and that was enough. Only then did I start to re-embrace the way I look and celebrate the imperfection.

It was during hour 3 of the expedition, that I saw it... the elusive green diamond! #DaDaDaaaaaaaaaaaa #NerdySelfie [photo of my face with my mouth covered by a tie die scarf. reflected in my black rimmed nerdy glasses, is a green diamond (a reflection from the computer but shhhhh] So while I may subversively explore ideas of pretty in the future, for that is the freedom of doing visually interesting, I do not foresee me and pretty spending time together any time soon and that is a beautiful thing.

[a B&W photo of me wearing my black rimmed nerdy glasses and grinning ]

#gender #disability #gender roles #worth #ideas of worth #marginalized communities #selfies #pros and cons #are selfies #good #vain #verbal abuse #self control #self worth #reclaiming beauty #reclaiming power #disabled af

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vernicle · 7 years ago

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<p>The self-identified fat, queer hiker challenging what it means to be an outdoor person.</p>

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Jenny Bruso's foray into the excellent outdoor begun in an not likely way — she was just trying to impress her companion on one of their to start with dates.

It was 2012, and the pair took a hike by means of Portland's Forest Park. Bruso, who identifies as excess fat, femme, queer, and a previous "indoor child," was curious about the interest her companion liked and also needed to feel outdoorsy and recreation for a fantastic time. Whilst her to start with hike was demanding, she claims it opened up one thing inside of her she could not overlook.

"Some thing sort of magical took place, and I identified that there was this section of me that was really intrigued by it and liked it, and I needed to do far more of it."

Even now, Bruso was intimidated by the method, anxious she didn't know what she was undertaking, how slow she was on the path, or how hard she was respiration. But regardless of her anxieties, she stored heading back again.

Photo by using Jenny Bruso, applied with authorization.

But as Bruso identified herself hiking far more and far more, she noticed one thing missing on the path — diversity.

She merely didn't come across quite a few persons of color, with bigger bodies, with disabilities, or anybody identifying as queer or gender-nonconforming. And she didn't discover them in the out of doors social media accounts she adopted possibly.

"I was just definitely kind of unhappy and bowled in excess of at occasions how [out of doors social media accounts] had been frequently showcasing quite a few skinny, youthful, white persons undertaking these intense items but searching kind of easy like they had been airlifted in there," she claims. "I was just sort of contacting bullshit on it. This is so not what it really is like for me out there."

Photo by using Jenny Bruso, applied with authorization.

Mountaineering supplied clarity and harmony for Bruso. She needed to hook up with others who could have felt the similar way, but didn't sense like they healthy in with the online out of doors community. She begun a blog, contacting herself an "Not likely Hiker." Just before prolonged, hikers of all stripes came forward and mentioned, "Me way too."

Bruso's "Not likely Hikers" has now expanded into an Instagram account, Facebook page, and hashtag that other traditionally underrepresented hikers use to hook up.

Any person who could not healthy the predicted search or identity of a typically outdoorsy person, anybody who's identified their put in nature, healed their human body and mind on the path, or definitely anybody who sees by themselves as an Not likely Hiker is welcome.

"I am a born mountain lover introduced up in the funds city of the second most populous state in the environment. New Delhi is one of the most active places one would discover on earth and travelling for me is an escape from my active IT university life. I like travelling by car or bus on prolonged journeys and quietly watching by means of the window. I firmly consider that travelling and exploring is a really basic and critical section of one's life and shouldn't be missed!! Cheers to a wonderful life!!!!" -Ranvir / @veer_ranvir • Location: Hatu Peak, Himachal Pradesh, India #hatupeak • Tag #unlikelyhikers or #unlikelyhiker to be featured!

A article shared by Not likely Hikers (@unlikelyhikers) on Feb 6, 2017 at ten:04am PST

Followers post their tales and pictures by tagging them #UnlikelyHiker on Instagram, and Bruso shares them with her practically twenty,000 followers.

"Whole disclosure: I you should not get out and hike just about every one weekend. In point, I haven't finished it a entire large amount, but I am trying to change that since I've constantly liked nature and observing sights and I am tired of depriving myself of the pure joy of no-force motion. Mountaineering supports my continuous method of learning to realize and honor what my human body is capable of." -Natasha / @natasha.pai . Location: Tillamook Head, Oregon #tillamookhead . Tag #unlikelyhikers or #unlikelyhiker to be featured!

A article shared by Not likely Hikers (@unlikelyhikers) on Jul 3, 2017 at ten:43am PDT

From local treks or far more epic journeys alongside the Pacific Crest Trail, Bruso's hashtag has helped draw together hikers of all skills — alongside with swimmers, climbers, and other out of doors (supposedly not likely) adventurers.

"Rising up, I never ever noticed persons that looked like me do out of doors functions. I never ever even stepped into an out of doors retailer until eventually I was in university. The advertising, the culture, and the community didn't sense welcoming to me. At some point, I ventured into the outdoor and identified that the wilderness will not treatment what I search like or where by I come from it needed to be visited and left untouched. Now, I can not get enough of it and my only regret is that I hadn't uncovered it faster." -Anusha / @anushamac . Location: Kirkwood, California . Tag #unlikelyhikers or #unlikelyhiker to be featured!

A article shared by Not likely Hikers (@unlikelyhikers) on Apr 5, 2017 at ten:21am PDT

The tales and pictures are highly effective, stuffed with times of therapeutic, survival, and peace identified while having back again to nature. Not likely Hikers is a celebration of community-creating and persistence.

"I begun hiking a handful of many years back immediately after horseback riding in the Blue Ridge Mountains for the to start with time & knowing how substantially you can definitely overlook out on if you're just sticking to the road on a roadtrip. The encounters & memories you gain exploring new places are so substantially far more intimate while on the path. Currently being queer, excess fat, & also battling long-term autoimmune circumstances + long-term discomfort, I experience very a handful of challenges, but mom nature embraces us absolutely as we are. Next communities of other not likely hikers has definitely been SO inspiring. I am in the method of planning my to start with backpacking vacation and could not be far more psyched to start my via-hiking adventures!" -Aura / @adventurousaura • Tag #unlikelyhikers or #unlikelyhiker to be featured!

A article shared by Not likely Hikers (@unlikelyhikers) on Nov four, 2016 at eleven:08am PDT

Due to the fact everybody belongs in the excellent outdoor. That is what helps make it so excellent.

It will not issue your ability or capability or dimension or what you search like: Mother nature is a put where by anybody can discover solace, peace, and a contemporary point of view. It can be life-transforming and awe-inspiring, and no one need to have to overlook out since they sense awkward. If you're anxious or intimidated about heading on a hike, Bruso implies going through your worry and having out there anyway.

"I am a travel lover and blogger from Finland. My electric powered wheelchair is a section of me, the wheels that give me with the option to wheel all over the beach locations and nature paths of the environment." -Sanna / @wheelsonthebeach . Location: Atmühlsee, Germany #atmühlsee . Tag #unlikelyhikers or #unlikelyhiker to be featured!

A article shared by Not likely Hikers (@unlikelyhikers) on May perhaps 9, 2017 at 3:55pm PDT

"Never enable the worry of what other persons may possibly be contemplating end you since what you may possibly discover out there is so substantially larger than that, and you have earned it. We all have earned it."

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