My Story...and why it matters

A long while ago, I learned of the anti-gay marriage bill being considered in the Ugandan parliament.  It actually wrecked me.  Being a liberal, lesbian, urban-dwelling, woman social worker in the third largest city in the United States (Chicago, for those of you who didn't know!) I'm usually pretty nonplussed about being OUTRAGEOUSLY opinionated and advocating for the rights of myself and others who are similarly marginalized and oppressed.  When I found out about this bill (see this recent article in the Huffington Post and/or google "Uganda Anti-Gay Marriage Bill"), I literally was speechless.  I barely, if ever talked about it, and felt generally hopeless about the situation.  When I fell in love with the country of Uganda, I started to build my life around the idea of being able to work, learn, live, and love there.  I eventually did just that for a summer in my undergraduate college life, and felt equally nonplussed about continuing my exploration of my sexuality there.  While there, I came to learn about the vast danger with this openness.  As a British colonized culture heavily influenced by the American Evangelical movement, they took these pastors doctrines as universal truths, and have since become what I see as the ultimate experimental ground (and thus highly praised in the evangelical church) for their beliefs.  I had no clue of this when I went there.  I thought I'd share my coming out story here after reading this article because I still miss the freedom and adventure of Uganda, but now I know I will not be able to safely go back there without massive structural changes.   Fair warning...this is a long post and I'm really sorry but I'm terrible at editing because (as stated earlier) I tend to feel like I have a lot to say!

Myself (right) and S (left) in Uganda, Summer 2009

*****

It was the summer after my freshman year of college.  I had come out to myself the semester earlier, after falling in love with one of my close friends.  I attended a Christian college in the Midwest known for it's non-acceptance of LGBTQ people, and I had bought into it while attending a small group Bible study that only furthered this non-acceptance in myself.  I told myself that I would never tell anyone about my feelings for women, and I would force myself to date men.  To please God, and my family.  I even promised I wouldn't write it in my journal.  That way, if I died (by whatever means), no one would ever know.  I had always wanted to go to Uganda, or more specifically, since I saw the documentary Invisible Children in my sophomore year of high school.  It became clear (to me) that the best time for me to go and fulfill that dream, was now.  So I went.  I raised the money all on my own, found an organization to volunteer with, and I went.  I remember my best friend (at the time, no longer) advised me to go "...and not think about boys.  Christian women go into the mission field all the time searching for a husband, go for yourself, and God."  I nodded and agreed, that would be easy.  But I also decided to try to forget about what I had learned about my feelings for women as well, and just focus on myself, what I was doing, and God.  

I arrived in Uganda in June of 2009.  For a month, I kept my pact with my friend, and myself.  I remember at the one month mark saying to myself, "wow, I haven't even thought about any of that shit!"  I absorbed myself into the culture (as much as I could) and fell in love with the country and friends I made there.  

Then, right at the one month mark, trouble came to Africa in the form of a woman: S.  One of the American volunteers who had been there starting in May told me that she had invited a friend of hers from college to come because she was a videographer and the organization wanted her to create promotional videos for the organization's website.  I paid no mind to this at the time, and just nodded and said I was excited to meet her.  She arrived on the day that the girl I had become closest with had left - so I truly didn't really pay much attention to her.  And, I learned, that she didn't pay much attention to me either.  At the time, my hair was plaited with an African weave in little braided dreadlocks and a hoop nose ring adorned my freckled nose, and she wasn't looking for love either.  This was a job for her.  

At first, I really disliked her.  I hadn't planned on going on safari while I was there, because I didn't raise enough money.  However, my mom offered to pay for it at the last minute, because I was in Africa, and when was that going to happen again?  So, I signed up to go with a group of people I had really connected with and everything seemed to work out fine.  Then I found out that the organization wanted S to go on safari too, to make a video, but there were too many people in the first group.  Because I was one of the last people to sign up for that weekend, they told me I would be going the next week, in the group with S, and none of my friends.  I made plans to room with one of the other girls so I could stay away from S, who I was very upset with!  

A few days before we were supposed to leave for safari, we were invited to be bridesmaids in one of the Ugandan women's introduction ceremonies.  (Basically an engagement party, but it is a MUCH bigger and more traditional ceremony than the wedding).  Per tradition: we were not allowed to have our hair in a weave.  So, my dreads had to come out.  I spent the night before with the whole house pulling fake hair out of my head and sleeping on my 80's rockstar style hair: crimped, frizzy, and greasy.  The next morning, I washed my hair for the first time in 4 and a half weeks and used a hairdryer and straightener.  S tells me this was when she really noticed me, and decided she wanted to pursue me.  Apparently it was one of those Megan Fox moments, where I walked out of the bathroom a totally different woman, flipping my hair back and forth wrapped in my towel, with the sunrise behind my head.  All of a sudden, S was at my hip the whole day.  Helping me with my hair, painting my toes, I helped her with her makeup.  I remember the way she looked at me made me want to know her better, and made me want to be around her all day long.  I decided to give her another chance too.

Throughout the ceremony, I felt her eyes adoring me, and I felt a familiar feeling rising in my gut, I desperately wanted more time with her, alone.  In the car ride home, she rested her head on my shoulder and I whispered in her ear, "do you want to share a room on safari with me?"  Yes, I totally ditched my friend.  I couldn't help it!  She nodded and smiled, and went back to resting on my shoulder.  

The weekend of safari was one of the most magical I've ever had.  (In efforts to make that sound less corny, it was magical for more reasons than just S!)  We spent the days sitting in the warm sun on the roof of safari vans roaming through the African plains, and the nights in an authentic African hut, our beds pushed together and our mosquito nets tied to drape over both of our beds.  She took the video like she was expected, but all the time with me by her side taking photos with my fancy camera.  I told her it was nice to have someone to hang back with as we did our art forms.  She told me she appreciated my help, and ended up putting me in some of her shots.  Then at night, we stayed up all night laughing and talking.  She told me everything, even that she was gay and had dated women before.  I told her that I understood, I had wondered some of the same things myself.  

After that weekend, we were inseparable.  Everyone knew that where one of us was, the other was too.  I moved into her dorm room, and chose to sleep in the bed under hers immediately when we came back.  At night, she would sneak down the bunk-bed ladder and cuddle with me under my green mosquito net.  One night, she kissed me on the cheek, and it sent shivers up my spine.  I kissed her back on the neck.  After a few weeks, a few people started being suspicious that our friendship was just "too close."  One even made a comment, "If you two were a lesbian couple, Emily would be the feminine lipstick one, and S would be the more masculine one."  We laughed half-heartedly, worried about being found out, even though we hadn't even talked about it yet.  

Finally, one night, I told S that I had wanted to sleep outside on the front porch since I got there, but hadn't been able to yet.  I told her I didn't want to do it alone.  She told me she would do it with me, she just wanted to be with me.  We put our pillows and blankets on the mattress on the porch outside and waited until everyone was asleep to go out there.  We watched the sunset over Kampala, and then I nuzzled my head into her collarbone.  She kissed my forehead and I reached my hands under her shirt, caressing her body underneath.  After a few moments of this, she stopped me, "We have to talk about this...do you have feelings for me?"  I was terrified of all the things I was feeling, so I broke down and cried while having a panic attack.  I told her I did, but I wasn't sure if it was ok for me to have those feelings.  She just hugged me closer, "I know."  I woke up and told her that I didn't believe it was ok for me to have those feelings, and she was heartbroken.  We continued to be inseparable, and doing the same things as before, because even though I didn't think it was ok for me to have those feelings - I did, and I couldn't help myself.  Neither could she.  

When I left a month later, she came to send me off at the airport.  We cried and looked at each other knowingly.  I told her we needed to talk once she got back to the States, she nodded.  After a month of skyping between Michigan and Africa, Michigan and Wisconsin, she came to visit me at my college.  There was so much left unsaid, but all those feelings came rushing back again.  The first night she slept in my lofted twin bed, there was so much tension, the air was full of it.  She held me as close as humanly possible, and I let myself fall into her.  Then, she kissed me, for real this time.  I thought to myself, now I understand.  This is what love feels like.  I also came to the realization of just how happy I was.  I had a clarifying moment spiritually soon after, I knew God was rejoicing at my happiness, and at the great relationship S and I had that was always supportive of the other.  It was going to be ok.  

After that, we continued dating long-distance.  I started slowly coming out to friends at school, many of whom are no longer my friends because of it.  I joined an underground gay support group and started meeting other people at my college who were like me, and who I could talk to about S.  S visited me, and I visited her all throughout the  year.  She even moved to my college town for a short while because she needed a way to get out of her hometown. She then got a job in the Chicagoland area, and that was when our long-distance relationship truly stabilized.  She was establishing herself in Chicago, finally being open about her sexuality with her new friends in her new city, and I was doing the same in my small-town college.  In August, we will have been dating long-distance for three long (and beautiful) years.  But this August will be different.  In May I will graduate with my Bachelors degree in Social Work.  A few weeks ago, I got my acceptance letter from the University of Chicago's Jane Addams College of Social Work for the Masters in Social Work program.  I sent in my "Intent to Enroll" letter and deposit immediately.  We've started looking for apartments in the neighborhoods we love in North Chicago, and she's started collecting furniture. In August, we will finally be together, in the same city, the same home, and sharing our lives like we've wanted to for three long years.  I'm coming home.

*The story that I've written above was submitted to What Wegan Did Next's "Love Stories" section, but has yet to be published there!  So, if you follow them and they post it in the future and it's word for word...now you know why.

1,095 - 20

August 1st will mark the 1, 095th day that I have been not living in the same state, or city as my girlfriend.  And it will also mark the day that the lease on the apartment we rented, together, starts.

In 20 days, (or less!) I will be finally living in the same city and state as her.  Not to mention, also the same apartment.  I've thought about this time in my life for 1, 095 days now, and I always thought it would feel surreal.  That I wouldn't even be able to imagine it because of how long we haven't had that luxury.  But, really, I mostly just feel like, "it's about damn time."

Looking back, I know distance was right for us.  (Try to find anyone else who feels that way and I think you'll come up empty!)  We needed to be forced to be alone with ourselves and work on our own hurdles alone, in order to be able to be together in a healthy, loving relationship.  We needed to learn that the best kinds of relationships, are one in which two individual people can come together and celebrate, and cherish the other for who they are on their own, and who they become together.  For that, I am so grateful.

But now, we're ready.  We are so ready to be together.  To come home to each other everyday.  I think that's the part that will be surreal (but maybe, hopefully, it's just normal), coming home everyday and seeing her.   I think after a week we'll be like, "ok, so...one of us is supposed to leave now" and then WE WON'T.  AH.

I've been getting a lot of texts, calls, and letters from friends.  Some of my best, and some who have reconnected with me after a long time.  They all keep saying they can't wait to visit me & S when we move in together.  The part of me that believes in "signs" and karma and, my favorite phrase my momma taught me, "the universe will bring it to you," believes that this is a sign.  My friends see that I'm finally getting to the place I want to be, and happiness and contentment tend to draw people in.  I can't wait to have them visit me, us, (WHAT?!) and be a part of this new part of my life.  To be actively a part of it.


So to any friends who still read this, you are always welcome in our home.  Thank you for being such a huge part of my life, and our relationship, for the past 3 years.  That time apart from S, but with you, are part of what make us as strong as we are now. 

 

This is going to be short and sweet, and yes, I also posted this on my Tumblr because I am that happy right now and I have too many online blogs

I've been taking a creative writing class that has fully and utterly changed my world.  I could (and probably will) write about it some more later, but for now:

I did it.  Tonight I wrote the poem that made me feel like a poet.  I wrote the poem that made me look up schedules for open mic nights knowing that I would one day (soon) get on a stage and read that poem with every fiber of my heart and the audience would snap along and say, "Girl, you got soul."  And tonight, I would believe them.  But tomorrow, I will take my prized words and I will put them in my binder, to be revealed to my class only on the day that they were meant to be revealed, and that will be it.  Because a writer cannot have too much ego, or they will never write another great poem again.

yoga inspires me

I know it is the new hip trend and all, and may be a little cheesy to say right out like that, but yoga truly does inspire me.  It makes me appreciate the simple things more, make healthier choices, and be just happier in general, more balanced.  I'm pretty sure I had one of the most emotionally exhausting days - one of those ones where shit keeps getting thrown at you and all you can do is wipe it off and smile.  Anyways, I was in the mood to not do anything involving human contact after that, but I knew I really wanted to go to this yoga class tonight since I'm leaving town on Saturday and won't have my beloved yoga studio to go to anytime I choose.  So, I went.

It was harder than I expected, but always as informative, inspiring, and empowering as usual.  After class, I walk out of there feeling hopeful, purposeful, and intuitive to people, things, and the environment around me.  I know it's not just allocated to my studio, but it is the practice and the spiritual discipline that defines yoga that allows me this feeling.  For those of you yogis out there, you will know that yoga always ends in savasana, or corpse pose.  It is a time to lay and reflect on the parts of your body that have been engaged and activated during your practice.  A scan of your chakras, to understand and absorb what you have done in that time that you chose to focus on your body, as well as what you have done when you have not focused on your body during your day.  It is also a time to just, release.

Tonight during our savasana after my short-form ashtanga class, just as I was sliding into corpse-esque release, a song came on the playlist for the night that sounded like a few buddhist monks chanting Psalm 23, and later the Lord's Prayer.  For any of you that have known me for the past few years, you will know that my connection to the God that Christian's claim as "theirs" has not been so pleasant.  My violet-crown chakra (if you will) is being under-used.  You see, last May I was fired from SpringHill Camps, a non-profit Christian camp organization, on the basis of my being openly gay.  For some reason, just saying that in itself doesn't lend itself to the pain I felt.  SpringHill Camps was my place to develop my spiritual awareness.  It was this place that jump-started one of my favorite qualities about myself - my ability to connect with others on a level deeper than the skin, and the ability to connect with a being greater than myself in a way that makes me feel better connected to my environment and my own self.  It was the reason I decided to go to the college that I now attend (Hope College), because I was hoping to find a similar environment there: one that would empower me spiritually as well as intellectually.  It would be an understatement to say that I was disappointed in what I found at Hope, but I remained hopeful (no pun intended) that I just hadn't found "it" there yet, and I needed to give it another chance.

By my sophomore year at Hope, I had come out as gay to my close friends and to my family and had been dating the same woman I am currently dating for a few months.  I always had a little hesitation to explore the reconciliation between faith and sexuality, but I did find a reconciliation that also supported spiritual beliefs that I have held since I can remember.  It was this reconciliation that made me feel comfortable in my own skin, even if I wasn't comfortable at Hope.  At Hope, the disappointment came from the lack of a community that truly sought out spiritual truth, rather than simply "Christian" truth.  I had a very hard time finding people who were willing to discuss anything but Jesus and what the more right-leaning Church preaches as "good, holy, and righteous."  I wanted spiritual diversity, mutual understanding and inclusivity, the passion for social justice, and the willingness to learn from those who are different, even those who are oppressed.  And I found, none of that.  Actually, one could argue that Hope, as well as much of West Michigan, is the furthest from that.*

All that to say, when SpringHill Camps administrators forced me into a room to discuss how we were to handle "difficult topics" with our teenage campers, proceeded to tell us "if you can't agree that one can 'pray' away or change their homosexuality, please don't say anything", then force me to come out, tell my coming out story to them, explain my acceptance of my sexuality, tell them that yes, I was dating someone openly, and proceed to "redistribute me to another camp site where I won't be a potential threat to campers" (but don't put any other co-workers in awkward situations, please!); it pretty much destroyed most of what I had connected to God, at least the one that Christians claim as "theirs"  (even though, I'm pretty sure (s)he doesn't "belong" to anyone one type of people), and it especially tarnished my view of Christians.  I spent the next year pretty frustrated at my place in life, still at Hope, a place I felt I didn't fit into anymore (and never really did).  Also a place that in the past couple years quite openly declared that they didn't feel comfortable with me being there, at least openly and with the ability to speak.  (For info on this, Google search "Hope College, Homosexuality Statement/Policy" and click any of the links that come up.)

Anyways, back to yoga and the chanting monks.  Because of my quickness to frustration/irritation at most things associated with Christianity (I do admit, not my best quality) I was immediately distracted by the ever-famous Psalm 23 being pronounced during my savasana.  My thoughts were along the line of, "Okay, this guy has studied Indian Philosophy for years, has been to India studying in an ashram, yoga itself is a Hindu practice of inclusive spirituality and wellness, and he's playing PSALM 23 and the Lord's Prayer?!  What the hell, why aren't they chanting from the Bhagavad Gita or something less...Christian?"  I was kind of tense for a few minutes about this, and then I softened up when I recognized that the monks were changing the more Western-recognized pronoun "He" in the verses to "She."  (Actually, I loved that).

When it hit me that I could actually appreciate the psalm, and the monks, and the she; the only way I can describe how I felt is that I felt as if I had realized that I had lost a profound piece of myself and was wondering how I had let it go.  I somehow let my irritation and frustration from Hope and SpringHill and seemingly constant misunderstanding between "LGBTQ" and "Christianity" take over more of my spiritual self than the beliefs that I love and wish to integrate into my daily understanding.  Still in a sort of, stunned, state, the teacher asked us to stretch and "awaken to ourselves" from the savasana and come to a comfortable seated position in order to dedicate our practice.  He asked us, as in the beginning of class, to sit and simply feel the physical, emotional, mental, and spiritual activity of our bodies.  To appreciate the time and effort we had just put into them, and dedicate what we will choose to get out of our practice afterwards.  Dedicate the practice to something meaningful, purposeful that we hope to embody as a part of our daily practice.  I dedicated my practice today, to this:

"I dedicate this practice to the more positive pursuit and understanding of my spirit and that of (s)he who is greater than I.  The recognition of the way humanity distorts this vision, but the conscious effort to not let the world's distortion become my own."

Namaste, readers.

*postscript: Well, to be honest, I did find one thing (a class, Intro to World Religions) and an amazing professor who I will always cherish (shout out, Boyd H. Wilson) who was the one who truly led me (I, to this day, call him Guru) in my reconciliation of all these things I was seeking.  I continue to go to his office when I need some release from Hope and it's lack of those things I so crave in a community, or to just bounce ideas off of him.  He always affirms my intuition about the campus community and their lack of spiritual diversity and acceptance of it, but he also always reminds me that at least they take faith as a serious matter that they want to integrate into their lives.

I hope you know that I'm the lucky one.  I hope you know that on those days that I'm feeling "extra feisty," or when I'm not thinking about what I'm saying, and you bring me back down to Earth, I may not like it at the moment, but I say to myself: "remember this. remember to thank her someday, because even if I didn't want it, I needed it."  I hope you know that I know, deep in the depths of my heart, I have not missed anything that wasn't worth missing.  I hope you know that in you, you have given me something that most people will never know, and never understand.  And it is for that reason that I hold you so tightly, that is why I treasure you so much, that is why I do not feel the need to see what I am missing, because what I want is right next to me, holding my hand.  I hope you know that even on our "bad days," I go to bed remembering all the things I love about you the most, and I know we're going to be o-k.  We are different from most, and I like it that way.