It Gets Better
Tie one on! A trench, that is. I came out of summer wanting a classic khaki trench. I searched high and low, was displeased with everything, nearly went to H&M to buy theirs, and then I found this. Is it neutral? Hell no, it's not. Is it fabulous and do people die with envy every time I wear it out? Totes. I've even caught women scowling at it.
I adore it. The lining is wonderful, it's a sturdy, almost canvas-weight cotton, and insanely fierce things happen when the collar pops.
Last night M held paws hands with Bird on the couch, all the laundry that had been delivered at 7:30AM sharp that morning had been unwrapped and carefully put away, and the Coq Au Gratin we cooked for dinner was a success, pure comfort food. Alas, there was a rapist loose in SF and unrelenting news of gay teens taking their lives. The former was giving me nightmares. I woke up adrenalized because my muscle memory started drilling self-defense techniques. My heart rate quickened, my breath fast.
This morning brought news of yet another beautiful, gay teenage boy's suicide, and by this afternoon someone had called in a tip and the rapist was taken into custody. Somewhere in between I made small talk with the nurse whose entire flu shot operation was set up in one of our videoconference rooms at work, and the inactivated virus being pumped into my arm through a tiny needle smarted like hell.
I'm so grateful for everything I have in my life, yet there's a piece of me that aches for it to be better - mostly in ways I can't control, like wishing our sponsor baby in Ecuador wasn't in the middle of violent civil unrest, wishing there weren't rapists about our neighborhood or gay kids killing themselves before their glorious lives have even had the chance to really begin at all.
Every story takes the wind out of me. As a woman, as a mother.
Autostraddle has a great post up right now, so heartbreaking but also so good and real. Please go and read it. I really like the idea of the It Gets Better project. There will be a film crew at the Castro Street Fair this weekend recording people's stories for it, so that's really lovely and maybe some of you will go and tell your stories, try to save a life.
I do think we have to factor in a lot of the things which have played out politically, that are of course at the core personal - like all the gay marriage fights from state to state, DADT, the promises given by Obama that have amounted to next to nothing at best - it's all sending a message to our society, and that's manifesting in emboldened violence, ignorance and bigotry. It's lending tacit justification to more fragile or vulnerable kids that the terrible nagging voice within them (or that of their parents or their bullies) is right: I'm worthless. I'm not equal. I have something to be ashamed of. I have nowhere to turn, no one to protect me. I'm not worth anything.
When our rights reflect the prejudiced so-called values and religious beliefs of those who hate us, what fighting chance is there for our kids, let alone our future?
It's appalling to me that the biggest figure to address these death is Ellen (bless her heart). Here in CA, the terminator signed the new Mental Health Services for At-Risk Youth Act bill into law Thursday, which "expands access to essential mental health services, especially prevention and early intervention programs for youths ages 12-17 by allowing them to obtain counseling without parental consent." That's a big, important step. We had a statement from the U.S. Secretary of Education Arne Duncan today. He says: "This is a moment where every one of us - parents, teachers, students, elected officials, and all people of conscience - needs to stand up and speak out against intolerance in all its forms."
What would you say, either as a gay person or a straight ally, to these kids who are suffering so much?
Trench: Richard Chai for Target Dress: H&M Boots: Lamica Broach: Vintage Nails: Wham Bam Glam by MAC Kitten: Nosy, taunted the pups. New to the 'hood. I haven't dubbed her yet, but I'm leaning toward Chubby.