Born this Way—Even if the Photos Lie

I know everyone and their queer aunt has landed on the Born This Way photo blog/essay in the last month now, but I wanted to toss in a thought or two on the subject for the record (since that's what us nosy bloggettes are notorious for).

Once a queer kid has taken the steps to accept herself, or to start sharing her real self to others, one of the greatest moments beyond the closet door arrives in the form of retrospection—we go back to excavate the photo albums for evidence of the baby gays we were. More often than not, we stumble across those blatant, obvious photos screaming out our proto-queerness, and we marvel over the fact our loved ones were somehow shocked when we chose to come out.

O'Neill sent me this link a few weeks ago, and I cannot stop poring over the personal stories and the adorable photos that queers across the Internet have submitted. I find it overwhelming (in the awesome sense) to see photos ranging across the twentieth-century. It's fascinating to read the accounts of queer people growing up throughout different decades among various cultural backgrounds. Despite our differences, we all share that one common experience of emerging from our own fears and insecurities to finally embrace that tiny version of ourselves from so long ago. Born This Way achieved the one goal I wished to see—a space where queer-identified people of all ages could gather, reminisce, and find our similarities despite the generation gaps.

Brilliant! Enlightenment, at last!

Of course, the next morning, I ran to the photo albums to find pictures of me in full baby dyke regalia, but—

I'll be damned.

I discovered I remembered life a lil' differently from the photos populating our albums. Most of the shots taken of Lil' Miz Moffatt were from family gatherings which meant I was decked out in full-on party dresses for the occasion. I come from a British-Scottish-Newfoundlander background, and I can tell you it's a traditional scene when it comes to gender norms. Now, of course, we've all relaxed a touch with age, but we were not exempt from formal attire as kiddies. And, having an older sister guaranteed girly hand-me-downs in the dozens…

Of course, I know assuming stereotypes tends to be more hurtful than helpful—I know of a large contingent of queer femmes who would be rightly pissed at the assumption that butch little girl = queer (and I know of some butch straight gals who would take offence to being stereotyped, too). But, when I remember the clothes I loved wearing as a child, I know for a fact it revolved around overalls and baseball tees.

So…where are those shots?

A few exist, but the overwhelming image skews me toward the opposite end of the spectrum.

Regardless of the strange absence of the everyday shots, I'll still take to skimming through the albums to get that shot of the baby dyke I was. In the meantime, I suggest you check out Born This Way if you haven't already—it's a guaranteed smile waiting to happen.

Queer Questions Straight Talk by Abby Dees

Provocation -- a fickle state, indeed. I was exploring the recent additions to the suburban library's queer books section when this title popped up. How on Earth could a queer person such as myself resist the absolute dread induced from the book's title/subtitle?:

Queer Questions Straight Talk: 108 Frank & Provocative Questions it's OK to Ask Your Lesbian, Gay or Bisexual Loved One.

…Ooh.

Such potential to go horribly awry.

As the subtitle suggests, the book targets the trembling, fear-ridden straight masses who cannot fathom where to start discussing queer issues with real, live queer people. Questions range across delightful Sunday tea topics including identity, coming out, stereotypes, marriage and relationships, homophobia and politics, religion, and sex. Readers will revel in the awkward, often ill-informed questions listed within, and will also adopt the strange identifier, LesBiGay, to refer to their now-aliented loved one.

… Alright, a touch harsh. I will retract the claws. Despite the writhing discomfort I felt while trying to picture friends and family asking these questions, I admit that Abby Dees had some excellent write-ups between those prompts. Dees is a civil rights attorney with twenty-five years of experience protecting queer rights in America. Queer Questions Straight Talk came from an honourable place, one where straight allies (or parents struggling to accept their out children) could empower themselves enough to launch meaningful conversations with the queer kids around town. Teens would likely benefit the most from this book, though the text implies parents of queer teens might want to give this a once-over.

Now, that being said, if a loved one were to have asked me these questions when I was a young'un, I'd have been mortified clean through to my 40s.

For example:

• "Could I have done anything to keep you from being LesBiGay? Is there anything I can do about it now?" (11)
• "Do you have to tell everyone? Do I have to tell everyone too?" (21)
• "Are there any real lesbians like the ones on the L Word?" (33)
• "Are lesbians angry at men? Are gay men angry at women? Are bi people angry at anyone?" (34)
• "How can I make sure LesBiGay people don't hit on me?" (38)
• "Do you believe you can be LesBiGay and go to Heaven?" (70)

I'll have to save these gems for our next family gathering, methinks. Imagine it: the grandparents all gathered around with their dainty teacups asking, "Honestly, don't you miss the 'equipment' of the opposite sex? Is that why some people are bi?" (88).

*Initiate the violins from Psycho*

Again, on the other hand, there are some valuable questions buried in here if you can suppress the initial "make-it-stop-oh-god-make-it-all-stop" reaction.

Some insightful additions include:

• "What kinds of things go through your mind when you consider coming out to someone? Are you ever nervous, excited, afraid?" (20)
• "Is there anyone you haven't told yet but would like to? What's stopping you?" (23)
• "Are there different issues that come up in LesBiGay relationships than in straight relationships?" (46)
• "What's one thing I could do to support you – to be an ally?" (60)

In particular, I think that last question is brilliant. I would have loved to have someone ask me that as a kid just figuring herself out. Rather than catering to shock-and-awe prompts or political brawls, why not frame questions in a positive, re-affirming light?

Overall, the book often felt like a permission slip for invasive questioning, and I wonder how much benefit a queer person could derive from it. I agree, ice breakers can be excellent in the coming out process, but respect for a loved one (whether queer or straight) trumps the questions written here.

Sunday Ponderings and Post Ideas

Another Sunday flooded with random ponderings and clouded thoughtscapes around these parts...

I admit, the ideas are half-formed at best. I blame the stretch of cold weather to come this week and the random bits of snow we've collected here in Suburbs. I might not be as winter-weary as the masses, but the darker nights are adding up, methinks. And, of course, it happens to be Sunday night which = a new week to mull over.

Shall we point form? Yes? Oh, heck yes:

• Novel I received the axe this weekend on the school schedule. Tough call, that one -- the three publishing certificate courses came with heavier workloads than I anticipated (read: one assignment per week for the online course alone.) Man, what a diverse mix of writers I've had to sacrifice, though. Profit-and-loss sheets are hijacking my time, so creative endeavors will have to be shuffled aside for the moment.
• I believe I am doomed to a one-date maximum, forevermore. Can't seem to get past the first hurdle. This time around: mismatched schedules. Nothing worse than the right person at the wrong time, hmm?
• Am pondering my position as The Only Queer in the Family again. Having a niece/nephew on the horizon has brought up issues relating to lessons for New Baby vs. my identity. I'm debating if I ought to make that the subject of a post...

On a positive note, dropping Novel I will free some time for a renewed interest in queer blogging. I have a few topics stored away, and I think it's about darn time I write 'em out, hmm?

Bi and the Man Booker Prize

The Book Awards Reading List progresses onward -- as of tonight, I can cross another title off the ever-expanding collection of Canadian and Commonwealth titles on the docket. Quite the all-consuming project, not gonna lie. Of course, as with most major literary book awards, readers are bound to stumble across portrayals of queer people. We appear in both main roles and supporting appearances in the novels of both straight and queer writers alike. In this instance, the latest book scratched from the list dredges up some disconcerting depictions of bi-identified people, and the nature of their sexual preferences.

The reason I mention this tonight stems from the fact the novel in question appeared on the shortlist for the 2010 Man Booker Prize, the most prestigious Commonwealth fiction award in the literary world. Its purse totals a staggering £50,000 (or approximately $100,000 Canadian), and guaranteed inflation for sales throughout Commonwealth countries. So, um, its kind of important.

And here we are with troublesome portrayals of both bi men and women in a text to make the final round of judging.

The Book:

Damon Galgut's In A Strange Room

(Emblem; McClelland & Stewart)

If ever a reader needed a reason to never travel again, this book provides three. One young man (who shares the same name as the author) embarks on three journeys across the globe, sharing his Spartan traveling arrangements with a host of different characters. Galgut establishes a dark tone to the open road, one structured around transience, the overwhelming reliance on strangers, and the constant oppression of death in unfamiliar surroundings.

Mmm, cheery content, I know. We are in the territory of book awards, now. The writer with the most scars wins.

Each of the three journeys do not always end in enlightenment as most other travel narratives do. We are treated to a surreal, often disturbing odyssey spanning the whole of Africa, and parts of Greece and India over the course of the three novellas. In fact, the young man often finds himself further alienated from reality after spending months in the hot distance from his home in South Africa. However, the road draws him into numerous entanglements with bi characters I found problematic for a number of reasons.

One: The Follower

Our Narrator meets a brooding, long-haired German (named Reiner) in Greece which leads to a later trip through Africa on foot. Sexual tension abounds. Through a side comment, the reader discovers the Narrator is having gent problems, though sexual politics are never discussed. The German increases his overbearing, self-masochistic road behaviours as their trek progresses, causing both men to fall out with one another (as in, the Narrator leaves our German companion stranded in the mountains somewhere).

Reiner, for all intensive purposes, is a bi man. His motivation to explore Greece is based on his decaying relationship with a woman back in Germany. Funny enough, our Narrator is there because of boy troubles. On more than one occasion, Reiner attempts to seduce the Narrator (which the Narrator is receptive to, though scared as hell of). When the passes fail, Reiner sleeps with a female escort in a tepid sauna.... and then tries to seduce the Narrator again. Wait, what? Reiner explains his indiscriminate sexual appetites as a necessary release form for his, um, stress release.

Did I also mention this dude brushes his long, flowing hair for half an hour each morning, and possesses all financial power over the Narrator?

Reiner is a strange combination of oppressive meets preening narcissist, and the Narrator's abandonment of this dude feels oh-so-right in the end. Hmm, troubled representation, indeed. Reiner is often presented as an over-sexed, self-absorbed man who desires at all costs to subjugate all that is the Narrator. When evidence of his bisexuality surfaces, the tale begins to spin against Reiner, and Galgut takes great patience tallying the increasing number of injustices imposed on the Narrator once the two men leave the comforts of city life for the rigours of the road. And his status as a bi-leaning man is a central part of this new depiction.

Three: The Guardian

The Narrator returns to India with a close friend, Anna, who ends up being a whole bucketful of horrible. In fact, the disgust coaxed out of the reader would cause that bucket to overflow in crashing waves at times.

To take stock:

• Anna is in a relationship with a woman back home in South Africa.
• After a couple days on the road, Anna admits she wants to be in a relationship with a man.
• Anna and her partner have been together for eight years.
• Anna offers to sleep with the Narrator. He declines, disgusted.
• Anna meets a Frenchman named Jean, who she obsesses over and wants to run away with and have lots of babies with.
• We discover Anna is bipolar with a generous helping of psychosis to balance things out.
• Anna swallows 200 tranquilizers and 50 sleeping pills when the Narrator is out of their hotel room. In a suicide note, she breaks up with her partner.
• The Narrator, with the help of three strangers at their hotel, pulls Anna back from the grave.
• The Narrator discovers the motivation behind Anna's vacation was her bid for an unmonitored suicide. She was fine with her friend incurring the blame for her death.
• Anna rants at them and belittles the group from her hospital beds for their efforts to help her.
• The Narrator calls Anna's partner and has to admit to all that's transpired, including Anna's affair with the Frenchman. Anna's partner knew an affair with a man was coming, and decides to stick with the delirious, suicidal Anna anyway.

....... *Sigh* When the novella ended, I had no remorse for this woman. None. She was horrible from start to finish. Her sexuality is framed as a conscious, superficial choice, especially when the Narrator addresses Anna's initial motivation to date a woman. Odd, I never thought of an eight-year relationship counting as a fling. Oh, I guess that's what it's called when it's same-sex. Silly me.

**

Oh, literature. Oh, Man Booker Prize. Oh, Damon Galgut. I think the bi kids out there deserve a whole lot better than monstrous stereotypes in award-nominated, literary fiction.

What Makes a Lesbian Heart Weep

Tonight's topic stems from a discussion launched over at AfterEllen.com. Queer ladies voiced their opinions in response to Freeman Hall's latest book, Stuff that Makes A Gay Heart Weep. From Britney Spears and capri pants, to cheap vodka and a day without Bravo TV, Hall makes a compelling case for the gay stereotypes in popular culture.

But, as with a great deal of queer content in the world, what of the gay ladies? Books like these make the gay = male market clear, much to the chagrin of the lady lovin' ladies out there --> AfterEllen.com chose to make their case for the broken heart of the gay gal.

Most of their list revolves around regular AfterEllen.com subjects/complaints about celebrities and pop culture:

• Katy Perry's offensiveness, especially to the queer gals
• Ilene Chaiken and her obnoxious, unrealistic portrayal of lesbian women
• Celebrities assumed to be queer and will not "formally" come out (Eg. Jodie Foster, Queen Latifah)
• The stunning void on mainstream television when it comes to well-developed, fully-realized lesbian characters (as opposed to our gentleman counterparts in the queer community)

While I agree with the last point, I find the rest of the list leans toward the irrelevant. To quote the Moffatt family motto: "Who cares?" We know of Katy Perry's famous ignorance, we know Ilene Chaiken lives in a bizarre world of lesbian drama, and we know a massive Coming Out Day among closeted celebs could make a difference.

I get it.

But, I think our issues as queer ladies are a touch larger than those piddly, pop culture references.

And lo, it is time to break out the patented Moffatt List of "What Makes a Lesbian Heart Weep":

1. Divisions within the Queer Community

The first bullet point on the list also cancels out the relevance of this exercise, I know. I think a large number of queer kids can commiserate with me when I say "community" events resemble the co-ed parties of grade school kids -- ladies on one side, gents on the other side. We act like oil and water in social settings which, yes, I get to some degree. I want to hit on girls, so it makes sense to get close to said ladies. I imagine gents want the same thing from the other gentlemen at these events. What I am referring to is the lack of civility between both camps. Friendships between gay gals and gay boys are treated as anomalies, and general antagonism runs just below the surface of our shindigs. I like the dynamics of mixed company, and I think the queer crowd benefits from the sex/gender diversity therein. So, why the bad blood?

... Which leads me to:

2. Lesbian Exclusivity

I weep as a lesbian to see how queer ladies isolate themselves from the world due to a "strength in numbers" mentality. Again, I understand the rationale -- queer women tend to be underrepresented in our culture, and there are not enough spaces dedicated to lesbian/bi girl culture in general. I understand the desire to find like-minded women, and I do find it an attractive notion to be knee-deep in a lesbian oasis of sorts. What I don't get is the air of exclusivity surrounding these cliques (and yes, I would go so far as to label them "cliques"). We all know a "gold star" from a "silver star," as if we need to earn our rank. We have the "baby dykes" who might always carry that label with them, even if they're out for decades. I've witnessed blatant hostility against bi-identified women, and I've felt the suspicion from women who could not grasp the fact I am best friends with a gay man. I know I'm queer. I like being queer. I like hanging out with all people, regardless of their sex/gender/orientation, and I would rather avoid groups who view that stance with suspicion.

3. The Politics of "Passing"

As I stated earlier, I like being a gay gal. Women tend to coax out the best in me, and women encourage me to accomplish more (you know, so I can impress them and all that great stuff, *grin*) -- but the number of times my queerness has been questioned tends to erode that self-confidence. This point ties into the aforementioned "Lesbian Exclusivity" pervading the inner sanctums of gay girl cliques. Somehow, I "pass" in the minds of queer people. Perhaps I need to sew the URL to Cute, Queer, Canadian onto my winter jacket, just to make it clear I am of the fabulous persuasion. The issue stems from the idea we either need to fit a certain preconceived image of a Lesbian to be accepted into the group or we will face social isolation forevermore. Queer gals come from all background with a gorgeous array of style -- I want to be with women who embrace those aspects of themselves, and I want to meet women who won't judge me for the femme-ish look/butch-esque perspective blend that I am.

***

I could go on with this list, but those are the top three reasons this lesbian heart of mine weeps. How about you, dear reader? What causes your queer heart to weep? I'll go grab the ice cream for us both and meet you back in the comments section.

Milestone Missed

There is no greater injustice than a personal milestone passed in silence. See? Yet another reason to blog with greater fervor and without pausing for two months *cough* Miz Moffatt*cough, cough*

I seek reconciliation with the person I was one year ago and the person I am at the moment of writing this post now.

On August 28, 2009, I made the major passage from closeted so-and-so to out 'n' proud woman on the home front. From where I sit at this moment, I have now been out to both parents for over one year.

ONE YEAR, people.

The revelation is humbling. It caps off a personal adventure spanning almost a decade, encompassing most of my teen years and the entirety of my adult life.

I first came out to myself when I was sixteen.

I first came out to others when I was eighteen in the safe confines of "CampOut," a coming out discussion group.

I came out to my Sister when I was twenty-one, spurred on before I was quite confident enough.

I came out to a high school best friend when I was twenty-two and tired of displacing all responsibilities for myself.

And then, in 2009, I took the leap and outed myself to the lil' Brother and the 'rents in the span of one month. I never thought I would reach that point where I was comfortable enough with myself to talk with them as equals, to not ask permission but to present the simple fact of who I am with the understanding I might not be met with acceptance.

One year later and I have attended Toronto's main Pride parade with my Sister.

One year later and I have noticed the sudden appearance of "partner" in my family's vernacular where "husband/wife" or "girlfriend/boyfriend" once existed.

One year later and there are new discussions in the home focused on understanding queer issues and where it places us as a family.

Total head rush.

And I took that milestone for granted and let it pass without its due respect.

So here is to that night in August and here is to the kids in years to come who will embark upon the same journey I did.

Transmission from Toronto's Pride Weekend

PRIDE WEEKEND -- I am still recovering from this past weekend. It was a blur of rainbows, sweat, bass-laden music, and delicious Canadian queers and allies en masse. Church Street overflowed with couples, singles, and families of all varieties braving the fierce heat to bask in another glorious year of being out and damn proud.

2010 Pride is a memorable one for me, I admit. It marks the first time I have attended as an out woman which alters the entire landscape of the event. Even though I still have work ahead of me when it comes to integrating myself into the community, I know I can do it with the support of immediate family members and close friends at hand. Ah, revelations mingled with searing summer heat -- quite the way to usher in the season, I believe.

And, in usual Moffatt fashion, I turn to lists for the rundown:

Saturday, July 3/10

• Daytime hours: Not enough queer. In Toronto, Saturday Pride = Dyke March and all associated woman-centric events. Alas, I was without a companion to traverse the gorgeous grounds of the women-exclusive parties. Never fear, though -- much eye candy was to be had that night.
• Ship Sharp, The Advocate, and I dashed out to Toronto to see if we could catch the FREE Cyndi Lauper concert at Queen's Park. WHOA. What a line. The vendors were even fenced off to prevent a rush on the stage. The line circled all of Queen's Park. And no, that is not an exaggeration.
• Mad flurry of friend sightings from high school and beyond. Even encountered the one other queer girl from my year in secondary school -- it was fun to share one of those knowing glances with someone from the past.
• Headed over to Church Street with a mission in mind -- Ship Sharp was on-the-clock for work and scouting out some buff gentlemen for a popular CBC show. She and The Advocate scanned the crowd for biceps, I was distracted with the dense ratio of queer girls to all other groups in some areas. *Commence immature giggling at the wonder therein*
• Walked the length of Church Street, occasionally stopping for impromptu dance parties spilling out into the streets. Spotted a Japanese restaurant/bar I will need to hit up in the future.
• Marveled at the openness and excitement in all Pride revelers and the ease with which strangers can become fast friends. Ah, Pride -- it has such potential to bring out the best in us, even while it tends to encourage the unpredictable TNT (Totally Naked Toronto) men.

Sunday, July 4th/10

• MIZ MOFFATT ATTENDS HER FIRST MAIN PRIDE PARADE! ... She also wilted in the 35C weather. I even caved to wearing shorts. I have not worn shorts for about a decade prior to this past Sunday. It was serious.
• Gigantic step forward: Attended Pride with The Sister. And she was the one to suggest it. I even got to openly discuss Pride plans with the entire Moffatt clan. It was so surreal at times. Given the fact I came out to Lil' Brother and the parents last July/August, I found myself buzzing with such confidence and self-assurance.
• Also attended Pride with The Advocate! Again, I reeled with such excitement throughout this weekend. She is a proven Pride veteran and it was stunning to have her at my side for what would prove to be a landmark Pride weekend for me on numerous levels.
• ENTER: THE PARADE. Ah, the roar of the Dykes on Bikes is such a momentous start to a parade of this nature. Ha, and having the police encouraging the crowds to douse all officers on site with water to stave off the heat was a fun addition to the day. Such an about face from the destructive forces of last weekend's G8/G20 Summit -- the officers on duty carried rainbow flags, donned bright beaded necklaces, and were all a-glow with the energy of Pride. Serious, it is mind-blowing to witness.
• Found myself getting misty-eyed when PFLAG marched past. I imagine most queer kids experience that press of pride to see those parents walk past in full support of their children.
• Highlight: An EMS driver blaring the Spice Girls' "Stop" from his truck and tackling the pre-set dance moves as he drove. Brilliant.
• I quite appreciated the drag queen who dressed in royal regalia to honour Queen Elizabeth II's visit to Toronto (it coincided with the main Pride Parade). We joked about her being a "Queen among queens" for the weekend.
• No parade is complete without bagpipers. But queer bagpipers? Even more perfect.
• I also love the fact that two leaders of Canada's federal political parties manage to make appearances at Pride Toronto regularly. Jack Layton of the NDP donned a bright pink shirt and compiled an energetic, bright orange sea of dancers to celebrate. And, Elizabeth May of the Green Party rode her way through the parade on a rickshaw with a drag queen. God, I love Canada.
• The Sister, The Advocate, and I got to be all heroic-like for a girl who almost passed out in front of us. Like I said, the heat was raging that afternoon. The kids in front of us needed more water in them, methinks. Of course, The Sister came prepared with hand towels and tons of water while The Advocate knew where to douse the poor girl in order to cut the heat. We had a whole pocket of civilian medics leap in to help her out.
• After that point, the heat took hold and forced our group out of the parade lines. Serious, we were all flushed and exhausted after about an hour and a half of direct sun exposure. We relocated to a bit of shade on a side street, but the heat was unrelenting. We called it an early day to avoid passing out like that girl did in front of us.

***

EPIC. It's a shame we were forced from the street due to the intense sunlight. The UV index was a perfect 10 and sipping on hot water from plastic bottles was making the three of us a touch sickly. I also discovered The Sister must have been a camel in a past life -- she downed two and a half Gatorades and about three bottles of water in the couple of hours we were at the Parade. I had one bottle of water, The Advocate had two.

Intense.

All in all, I was pleased with the course the weekend took. Had the heat been cut in half, you best believe I would have been at those barricades until the Parade closed. I realize I still have quite a bit of work to go when it comes to developing connections within the community, but, sometimes, you just need to relax and let the clubbing beats take you in.

Rain on This Parade

While the rest of North America unfurls their rainbow flags and storms the streets with effervescent Pride, Toronto is bracing for an unpredictable weekend.

Saturday heralds the G20 Summit in our midst -- world leaders are mingling, police forces are building, and protesters are rallying (or whining, depends on an onlooker's POV).

And, one of the first casualties this weekend is, of course, Toronto Pride.

Rumours throughout the queer centres of the city signal to alternative Pride events taking place across Toronto, most of them quiet affairs set in private venues far removed from the front lines. As for the main parade and its overdose of glitter, local queers and our gorgeous visitors await the postponed festivities scheduled for July 3rd and 4th.

What a drag.

Granted, it's a difficult position to complain from -- I for one want nothing to do with Toronto this weekend. The G20 Summit and its crush of protesters promises widespread disruption and a distinct decrease in civil liberties in exchange for enhanced safety. I've heard the criticism over this complete erasure of official Pride celebrations for such a tense climate, but, well, I have to side with organizers on this one.

Pride Toronto attracts three million or more revelers to the city -- how wise is it to blend all that with protesters promising violence and police forces armed with sound cannons and riot gear?

Still, it's tough to know Toronto queers are missing out on celebrating 2010 Pride with our sister cities. Though, I imagine plan-oriented kids foresaw the issues at hand and prepared a two-part Pride celebration -- this weekend encouraged travelers to discover their Pride in other Canadian cities or other North American destinations while still leaving ample calendar space for Toronto's later activities. See? It's possible to find the hidden opportunities even within "Fortress Toronto."

In other news, I foresee difficulties on the horizon for July 3rd and 4th -- as of this moment, I am coming down with what promises to be a wicked summer cold. The same woman at work who made me sick for Thanksgiving 2009 and gave me the flu right in time for my Sister's New Year's Ever wedding has now passed on another nasty cold to me right in time for Pride.

Did I mention this would have been the first Pride I celebrated as a completely out individual?

Yep.

Nothing significant or anything, right?

I am more than irked. I could use stronger, more foul language to describe this news, but it is futile. The germs have taken root and are starting their slow infestation. Seems my immune system is taking its signals from the Summit this weekend -- it is mass chaos in a microcosm.

Bah, physical metaphors. Quit being so well-timed.

More updates to follow on both fronts. Here's to Toronto and this body of mine making it out alive.

Tomes to Travel Through with Miz Moffatt

Lo, the crush of recent experience leads to an epic collection of stories from the city and stories from the suburbs to divulge. I chose the image of archaic tomes for a reason -- the narrative for the past week can only be measured against the thick, dense ramblings of weighted texts.

In a nutshell: OH dear goodness, I have crammed a whole lot of life into a meagre span of time.

Hence, point form updates will be called upon to breeze through these stories for posterity's sake:

Thursday, June 17/10

• Booked it into Toronto post-work to catch Ship Sharp's latest directorial project. She took the helm of the Fly By Night (FBN) Theatre Company's performance of Dog Sees God at Lorraine Kimsa Theatre for Young People (165 Front Street). The verdict: AMAZING (as per usual). Perfect casting, compelling performances from all cast members, and clever choices made by Ship Sharp herself. The Advocate and I shared a giggle over the mannerisms this cast adopted from Ship Sharp -- also amused over the random "Bad Romance" outbreak that shared eerie similarities to our own group's tendencies....
• Fell in love with city life all over again, even in the presence of the infamous G8/G20 fence marring the front steps of Union Station. Dazzled with street lights, pulsing with the lives around me -- I belong there. I decree it now.

Friday, June 18/10

• First off: HAPPY BIRTHDAY, O'NEILL! Cheers to another brilliant year for a brooding gentleman.
• Accompanied The Advocate to the graduation party of her close friend/fellow Pilgrim. Headed out to Moxie's for a night of carousing and catching-up. Broke out into songs from the Simpsons more than once, discussed manga and/or violent anime more than once, too. Devoured a massive, knee-weakening, and delicious plate of nachos with The Advocate. Alas, no beer and breakfast, though cheese-smothered chips are a close favourite as well. Called it an early evening to prepare for a Toronto-based adventure to RULE THEM ALL.

Saturday, June 19/10

• Started with two plans in mind: Visit the Toronto Small Press Book Fair at The Great Hall (1087 Queen St. West) and find a black dress for The Advocate in time for next week's alumni chamber choir performance. All other activities and adventures were ours to choose.
• First off: The Advocate and I + Gorgeous, old building + Ample selections of zines, chapbooks, and other indie lit = COMBO FOR EXCESSIVE, EXCITABLE COMBUSTION. We talked with each vendor, poured over their work, and made the difficult decision to limit our purchases (as best as possible, of course). Imagine it: local writers and small presses selling their work for an average of $10 or less. Hot discoveries include: a how-to guide for zine-making, a first collection of poetry by an author who has all but fallen off the face of the Earth (according to her press), and an alternative version of Toronto where a housing market crash creates a city ruled by warring factions of artists. INTENSE.
• With the sun splitting the clouds and a warm afternoon in front of us, The Advocate and I decided to walk the entire stretch of Queen St. West to Younge St. Yes. We were that giddy on Saturday. And oh, what adventures we found.
• Surprised a high school friend at his current job. "Excuse me, would you happen to have Labyrinth in?" Ah, it was such a perfect and genuine reaction of surprise. I love that our high school created such long-lasting bonds between us all. Also: Need to get our grade 11 flick, Sickle Hand, up on YouTube. Serious. I would link to it from here.
• Stumbled across Nadege Patisserie (780 Queen St. W.) for lunch. Our noses led us to a gorgeous selection of gourmet treats, colourful macaroons, and lavish sandwiches to pine after. I opted for a grilled veggie sandwich with brie and pesto while The Advocate selected a delicate, posh ham sandwich. Nadege has a cool, Parisian atmosphere with an attentive and relaxed staff. With their treats lit under glass cases, it felt like gazing in on jewelry. We ate al fresco at Trinity-Bellwoods Park and pondered over the contestants of an Amazing Race-style activity (partners were helping one another cross a tight-rope...?)

• It was a crush of images all after that: Sanko Japanese Market (730 Queen St. West) with the delicious, Kirin iced tea I first had while visiting a friend in Japan; discovering the Red Tea Box (696 Queen St. West) with a Mad Hatter's selection of treats (all poised for a future trek into the city); a random storefront with half-naked women dancing in the windows (though I believe I know what the "store" was about); accidentally stumbled through a crowd in front of Much Music, all awaiting the presence of *Shudder* Justin Bieber *Shudder, shudder*; Laughed over the oddities found in stores catering to the antiques crowd (so many mannequins, so many gaudy and matching lamps); Popped into the Silver Snail (367 Queen St. W.) to take a quick spin through the manga section.
• We trekked through stand-alone stores and through the Eaton's Centre to find a black dress to fit the strict guidelines of The Advocate's chamber choir ensemble. Esprit holds the key, it appears. Also caught sight of the Silver Elvis doing his thing in front of the mall's entrance.

• Once at Younge Street, we parted ways for the evening. I made it to Union station with moments to spare before the GO Train doors slid closed on another Toronto trek. Ah, that city. I need to roam its streets more often. I know I've missed out on detailing all these moments from Saturday, but, seriously, we took in a LOT of the scene. We covered a 4 KM stretch of the downtown core and managed to find material for, oh.... at least four future trips to Toronto. Case and point: we need to move downtown. Ah, I felt so sparkly and amazing all night. This is definitely something we will need to do again.

Sunday, June 20/10

• More celebrations to be had: Lil' brother turned 21 (staggering -- I feel so ancient by proxy, now) and also high-fived Dad for Father's Day. Spent the morning running a few small trips to get food-based gifts for the menfolk and reveling in the gorgeous weather.
• Went to the local, suburban mall to find a new tea store opened just on Saturday. As a self-professed tea loon, I was thrilled with the new proximity to premium loose leaf. But, the kicker? Apparently you must be an incredibly attractive woman to work there. I am so returning to this store as soon as possible. Readers: If I know you personally, I am stating now that I will drag you to this location once you are in my grasp. Serious, mark the calendar.
• Spent the afternoon in full relaxation mode, revolving the idea of a zine or a more professional, self-published work through my mind. I think the world needs more confessional sci fi, don't you?

Monday, June 21/10

• Work = Tedious, maddening, exhausting. Dreamt of writing and publishing for the entire shift, imagined what a future surrounded by the arts and with other writers would look like. Yes, I had a head full of dreams with me.
• Instant uplift: O'Neill called. Launched into another of our epic, catch-up phone conversations. I find it amusing how blunt we can be, especially when it comes to queer topics. Or, perhaps "candid" is the more posh-sounding term. In either case, I think we were both able to give voice to the stresses of our current situations and we even got some gossip in about idealized crushes and all the fun stuff. Fingers crossed that the kid can come visit this weekend -- there needs to be a personal summit with O'Neill, The Advocate, Ship Sharp and I. It'll be edgier and cooler than the hype surrounding the G8/G20 combined, just you wait.

Tuesday, June 22/10

• Met up with Ladies in Writing for another rousing night of self-penned stories, book reviews, political discussion, and goal-setting. I know, all that in two hours. Since our regular note-taker was absent, the group voted I take the minutes and send out the e-mail to the rest of the ladies who could not attend. Louise told me my writing is "outrageous," in the best possible way. More that I come out with twisted, amusing plots as opposed to offensive, disturbing content. Ha, I was over the moon with that one considering Louise is a brilliant writer herself.
• MUST. WRITE. MORE.

***

So, as I said, it's been a week where I out-hustled the bustle. I've hit the right stride in seven days and I want to hold on to it. With summer bursting down the doors, it is about time I get out there and explore with those nearest and dearest to me.

I can sense the adventure out there -- let's see how much I can capture in the next few weeks, shall we?

Closet Companions, or Secrets Behind the Rainbow

Queer gals vs. queer gents -- are we worlds apart or are we unbreakable allies?

Alpha Femme brought the discussion to the forefront with her post on the perplexing nature of lesbian/gay boy friendships and the hidden qualities of these alliances. She summed up the experience best with her recollection of her first Dyke March in 2006 where she witnessed a group of gay men "hanging out of windows, waving rainbow flags and hoisting banners that read ““FAGS <3 DYKES” and the like."

Why does an image like this inspire such pride and happiness because it seems to contradict an unspoken divide between us?

Where does the antagonistic depiction of queer women vs. queer men stem from?

Is it a fault we perpetuate within our own community, or is it a reductionist, societal representation ascribing character traits to us based on our same-sex attraction? Perhaps it's a touch of both.

I reflected on this same issue in an earlier post where I described the Next Generation of queer friendship epitomized under the moniker "Fag/Hag 2.0" -- it is the single term in existence at the moment to describe the connection I have to a dear, close friend of mine named O'Neill.

I am a queer woman, he is a queer man. We are best friends. We conquered the confines of the closet together, we took the first faltering steps into the local queer scene together, and we continue to turn to one another with a broad spectrum of issues and concerns unique to LGBT kids our age in Canada. While we share the same experiences of coming out, searching for a niche in the community, and learning how to find confidence as queer people in this world, we also have unique perspectives to share from a female frame of reference and a male context.

As a result, we often have outsiders misinterpret our connection with one another.

Our friendship ruffled enough feathers that the queer crowd at our school had to explain us -- we became the "bi-curious girl with the super-supportive straight boyfriend." Yes, dear reader -- the queer kids could only understand us through the frame of a heterosexual couple.

Is it such a shocking, unexplainable phenomenon that a gay woman and a gay man should relate to one another and support one another?

I understand how the idea of same-sex attraction might colour our views on queer friendships. If a girl is attracted to other girls, what would make her befriend a man (and vice versa)? It's as if our declaration as queer people renounces ALL connections to the opposite-sex, including friendship.

In a marginalized section of the populace, where on Earth do we get off discriminating against a potential friend based on their sex/gender? It baffles the mind.

It is about damn time we celebrate these connections and the strength derived from them. June is North America's official Pride month -- seems fitting we should call upon the queer kids to celebrate the similarities between the queer ladies and queer gents even while we respect and support the different perspectives of our closest companions.

Tips for the Ol' Brush-Off? Anyone?

The Brush Off: BUT HOW DO YOU DO IT?

As I suggested toward the end of the last post, I had an issue I wanted to turn to the Blogoverse to solve. I figure this dedicated base of readers would offer sound advice on the subject as I'm certain more than one of you have stumbled into a similar situation.

I should preface this a touch: on Saturday, I got a hair cut. I was two months overdo for one and, when you've got short hair, IT SHOWS. Anyhow, when I go in to get those unruly strands tamed, my hair dresser straightens it all as well. I have naturally thick curls and a stubborn wave to my hair, so getting it straightened is a joyous occasion for me. That being said, it tends to attract attention from folks who would otherwise let me fly under the radar....

Now, I thought I was dressed in a solid, queer-influenced sense. It was a 50s-themed joint and I came dressed as a tomboy. I assumed this would send out signals to other queer ladies in the crowd and I tried to focus those clothing visual cues with that in mind.

No.

IT HAD THE OPPOSITE EFFECT.

I had three men hit on me. Three. While a part of me is flattered, another larger part is even more confused. And then it hit me: THE HAIR. There is some mysterious property to the straight hair that the straight boys respond to. Despite the otherwise queer appearance of the ol' outfit, the hair overwhelms all other social indicators.

And so, I am left with the question: how does one give a polite brush off to a gent who has just worked up the courage to even talk with one?

It's a queer conundrum. In essence, the situation tends to nudge you toward coming out to a complete stranger. While hitting the town and celebrating a close friend's birthday, the last thing I want to do is explain or defend my orientation to someone I will never meet again.

So.....

I'm curious to know about you, dear readers. Have you found yourself in this scenario before? What's your approach to the brush off? I am interested to find out what the other gay gals use in these situations. I wonder if there are similarities between the brush offs carried out by straight gals and gay gals. Oooh, I feel like this could be a case study.

So please, discuss!

PostSecret and Homophobia

PostSecret: Discover instant therapeutic release contained in one 3" x 5" card. Frank Warren's art project started out as an Internet phenomenon circa 2005 and later spawned numerous printed volumes and videos. Now, it's become a social movement supported through Warren's endless tours -- and heck, the audience has expanded across linguistic borders at this point with sites designed for France, Germany, Spain, and China.

I've followed this blog for at a number of years now and I mention it tonight because of one nagging question burrowed deep in my brain:

Why is there such a huge influx of homophobic postcards on PostSecret?

When I use the term "homophobic," I reference a number of issues. The tone is often aggressive among this set and there's a trend toward supporting narrow, hurtful, and often stereotypical perspectives about queer people. In addition, when the author is queer, the secrets often featured on the blog are thick with an internalized, self-directed sense of hatred.

Now, given the nature of this blog, I understand the higher number of closeted LGBT people who might write in. If the site caters to a crowd needing to vent their secrets in an anonymous form, then I can see how closeted individuals might find release. I just wonder why Mr. Warren tends to select postcards with a definite homophobic vibe to them. This is a hefty accusation and I do have examples where queer-themed cards are positive and uplifting, of course.

But, with the current suicide rates among queer youth as high as they are, I wonder how postcards of this nature would help:

Internalized Homophobia

I am one of the lucky few who have never felt the press of internalized homophobia. I know it took me some time to come out, but I never once hated myself for being queer. Women are gorgeous and have a knack for making me overjoyed, so why be down about it? But, after reading postcards like these each Sunday makes me wonder if I'm a minority within a minority.

Abrasive Commentators

I imagine most queer readers would get defensive after these gems. Without context, I tend to picture the worst scenarios. Response to the First: Visibility matters. Just re-read the first three secrets and you will see why representation is important. Response to the Second: Four exclamation marks? Really? I'd love to know more about the back story there...

A Curable Cause

I find it strange how few people are willing to acknowledge bisexuality as a legitimate sexual identity. Instead, queerness is presented as a character flaw or a curable affliction -- and now, there's yet another platform to promulgate the idea.

Abuse as a Trigger Cause

The idea of sexual misconduct or abuse from childhood leading to a queer identity in adulthood is one of the oldest "explanations" for homosexuality in the textbook. (You might need to shake off the dust on said textbook, of course). Again, when I see postcards like these, I'm concerned for queer youth stumbling across them and deciding these are the consensus of all queer people.

The Queer Shotgun

... Where "gay" is synonymous with "last nail to the coffin." Is the writer pleased that the child is with a loving couple, or is the writer reveling in the supposed paradox of the situation? I find it problematic when queer kids are used as ammunition or the nightmarish worst-case scenario.

***

Right, enough with the rants. I do have examples of uplifting, reaffirming postcards with queer content. I wish these secrets were more common to Warren's site. I give ample credit to him for including postcards featuring LGBT voices at all, but, I think there's still ample room to develop a more queer-positive voice for the masses.

***

PARALYMPIC UPDATES:

No time to slow down in Vancouver -- the 2010 Paralympic Games opened on March 12 and the competition's fierce. Team Canada has taken home six medals thus far and are gearing up to own more podium space. So, who's been crowned with the laurels of success thus far?:

• Colette Bourgonje, Cross-Country Skiing - Women's 10 KM, Sitting (Silver, March 14)
• Josh Dueck, Alpine Skiing - Men's Slalom, Sitting (Silver, March 14)
• Viviane Forest, Alpine Skiing - Women's Slalom, Visually Impaired (Silver, March 14)
• Brian McKeever, Cross-Country Skiing - Men's 20 KM Free, Visually Impaired (Gold, March 15)
• Lauren Woolstencroft, Alpine Skiing - Women's Slalom, Standing (Gold, March 15)
• Karolina Wisniewska, Alpine Skiing - Women's Slalom, Standing (Bronze, March 15)

Coverage has been sparse on the major networks which I find ridiculous considering Team Canada's Paralympic team is outshining their able-bodied teammates at the moment. Make sure to check out medal updates and full coverage over at the Main Headquarters. I shall keep readers posted in the following weeks, you best be certain of that.

Ins and Outs: Doctor's Edition

Closet: 1

Miz Moffatt: 0

Another innocent situation where I neglected to clarify. I went to an interview with a new doctor who's set up her new practice near the house. I'm in the process of switching doctors at the moment -- it's a detailed situation.

The Moffatt Notes version: The current doctor refuses to do full physical examinations for female patients. I want a doctor who will consider my ENTIRE health.

Anyhow, the new doctor is fantastic. She's knowledgeable, professional, and personable. She's a doctor I could approach with any concern and I know she would respect me (even if I was overreacting to certain symptoms). Most importantly, she adheres to a preventative approach to medicine. Rather than throwing pills at symptoms, she wants to work with patients to reduce the chances of illness in the first place. A+.

But, hrmmm..... interviews.

It strikes when marital status is brought up. I can sense all the queer readers nodding their heads now, we've all been there.

Doctor: And do you have a boyfriend?

Miz Moffatt: Uh....Nope, I'm a single gal.

Doctor: Oh, don't worry. It'll happen for you.

I had a nice, insider's chuckle with that one. Still, I had the familiar rush of thoughts when presented with this:

"Do I come out? I'm evading the truth if I don't correct her. Though, I am being honest when I say there's no gentleman in the picture. Still, does the situation warrant my coming out? Am I taking a step back if I keep silent? Is coming out relevant in this situation?"

It's quite the conundrum.

I opted for silence. Now, I should explain -- I didn't feel pressure to hide myself. It just didn't seem relevant at the time. If I were in a relationship, you can bet your buttons I would make it clear I was a gay gal. But, when you're single and you're in a doctor's office detailing the extent of your medical history in the hopes of finding a better doctor -- I don't know, coming out was just not on the priorities list there.

I still feel a little weird from the experience, though. There's a piece of me that's got the scolding face on and is harping at me for sitting on my heels. But, the majority of me belongs to the "Enh" School of Thought.

Ho hum.

***

OLYMPIC UPDATE:

Such a bittersweet win last night. The nation mourns and celebrates with the latest addition to Team Canada's medal count:

• Joannie Rochette, Ladies' Figure Skating (Bronze, Feb. 25)

It was only four days after her mother died from a heart attack and Rochette still managed to pull out a medal-winning skate. It was a heartbreaking and uplifting moment on the podium, that's for sure. I wish the circumstances could have been brighter for Rochette, but there's no doubt she had a brilliant performance. She won respect for her perseverance long before the medals were awarded.

It's been quite the Olympic Games so far. I think I'm not alone in stating that.

How My Parents Made Me Queer: Colour-Coding

Ever look back on those childhood memories to discover innocent oversights made by Mom and Dad that nudged you closer to coming out? It's as if they possessed gaydar without being able to read it.

It was Feral Geographer who first tipped me off to the concept of "How My Parents Made Me Queer." It's an idea I've contemplated over the years as I'm sure most queer kids have. In retrospect, it's as if we were all born waving rainbow-coloured flags -- yet, we can still remain invisible for decades until we make the choice to come out.

Regardless, I think we've all got those little quirks or those special interests that our parents picked up on and encouraged without realizing those points are vital to our coming out narratives as adults.

For me, the earliest encounter with this phenomenon was in household personal branding. Enter: Colour-coded towels.

After dealing with numerous fights regarding bathroom items, my Mom decided to make it clear for us. She bought toothbrushes and towels in specific colours that corresponded to the child in question. In that sense, we could claim ownership over objects with visual cues dyed right into them.

Of course, this is where the concepts of colour and gender become most apparent.

In our house, there are two girls and one boy. I am the middle child. My sister was assigned all the pink gear and my brother received all the blue gear.

So, where does that leave the second girl?

In the end, the official colour for Miz Moffatt was green. Gender neutral. From the start, I was not only born between siblings, I lived between the traditional colour spectrum designed for Girls and Boys. I was different from my sister's world of pink and different from my brother's world of blue.

I was green. I was uncharted territory. I was so going to become fascinated with concepts of gender norms and the act of transgressing those boundaries once I got older....

Subtle? Sure. And, to be fair, I was obsessed with the colour green as a child. I reached the point where I would only eat vegetables if they were green.

Still, though, I wonder how those first concepts of myself might have been affected had I been assigned pink or even purple. Or, what if the colours had been pastels instead of vibrant shades? I wonder if that helped set the tone for my childhood or if it was me who set the standard for the colours used to define me.

Oh, endless numbers of avenues to walk down with this thought, I imagine.

I'm intrigued to know what other small acts contributed to that proto-lesbian identity of mine. Perhaps it requires further investigation and more posts on my part. Hmm, we shall definitely see, dear readers.

***

OLYMPIC UPDATE:

Congrtas to another medallist hailing from the Team Canada set:

• Kristina Groves, Speed Skating - Ladies' 1500 m (Silver, Feb. 21)

And, to make this particular match a little sweeter for all the queer women out there -- the Dutch gold medallist in the event, Ireen Wust, is an out and proud gay gal herself. So there's our Olympic moment of Cute, Queer, and Canadian personified.

(L-R) Kristina Groves, Ireen Wust, Martina Sablikova