Creating Change Houston: Changing How We Look, Live and Define Our Lives

I just got back from Houston, Texas and NGLTF’s Creating Change 14.

I love Creating Change!!! It’s like getting beamed up to a “Gay World” where you are surrounded by OUR community – all sizes, shapes, hair styles, demographics. OUR community where no one raises an eyebrow if you hold your partner’s hand or plant a wet kiss on their lips.

It’s a space where around every corner, in every session or just lounging about you can sit down and talk about your life and the other person will get it because it’s their life too.

I always come back geeked, full of ideas and ready for action – then reality sets in. The reality that I’m not somewhere over the rainbow and, unfortunately, under the rainbow when the creating change glow has cooled down, my big gay community returns to our own separate silos.

But this year was different. We have seen so many changes in recent years, there has been such momentum, that this year we came to Houston ready not only to create change but to be that change.

The charge was led by amazing Trans-activist like Laverne Cox, Monica Roberts, Kylar Broadus, Bamby Salcedo, Cecilia Chung and Carter Brown who gave a masters class on living authentically and the intersections of LGBTQ equality and humanity.

Wow, that’s saying a lot, but seriously, there were some big lessons being taught in Houston!

I could probably write a book – probably two or three -about the workshop sessions, the plenary sessions, the caucuses, the film screenings, the speakers and the amazing Laverne Cox but for me the big story was the new energy changing how we have come to talk about, advocate for and engage our community.

Lesbian feminist, leather activists, queer, young, old were all there adding their voice to the conversation but the most transformative conversations for me came from our Transgender activists.

Theirs is a Trans story, but it is also our story and a human story – the ultimate quest to be our authentic selves.

Our Transgender sisters and brothers remind us that gender is not just male or female but a spectrum of expression and cannot/should not be defined by anatomy.

By forcing a child , and later the adult, to live by standards conforming to anatomy but denying their spirit/soul true gender expression is not only harmful but keeps us from developing our full potential as human beings.

A baby is born someone looks between his/her legs and labels them with an identity and the accompanying baggage society has given that gender –toxic whether gay, straight and especially if transgender.

Healthcare doled out based on flawed societal norms whether for transgender services, individuals living with HIV/AIDS or women’s reproductive rights is discriminatory.

Homelessness, violence, sexual exploitation, poverty are the evils that man makes and doles out to the poor, immigrants, not just to but most harshly to the LGBT community.

Ironically the very part of our LGB community – the “T” – which has been too often thrown under the bus in “our” fight for equality is profoundly and eloquently telling the story of the evils of bias, discrimination and all the hate based phobias in a patriarchal society – pushing the envelope that could ultimately shift the paradigm on how we value the human spirit.

Will it happen tomorrow as a result of Creating Change? No – but the seeds are planted, the conversations begun, the movement strengthened and the winds of change – well they’re blowing.

Creating Change – not only educating about healthcare but leading the charge to end AIDS now; Creating Change – supporting, engaging, protecting LGBTQ youth; Creating Change – recognizing, celebrating and supporting the diversity within our community; Creating Change – developing strategies for intentional intersectionality not just for survival but as a tool for real social change.

Creating Change Houston  2014 – it was a very good year. Next stop Denver!

 You can also follow me at www.mychangeiam.com or www.twitter.com/mychangeiam

Posted in bullying, Creating Change, DADT, DOMA, lgbt, marriage equality, NGLTF, Queer, Transgender, World events, youth | Comments Off on Creating Change Houston: Changing How We Look, Live and Define Our Lives

Remarks from 2013 Transgender Day of Remembrance at Central Methodist Church Detroit, MI By Michelle E.Brown

This year we have celebrated so many anniversaries – the 50th anniversary of the March in Washington, the 50th anniversary of President Kennedy’s assassination but one anniversary that caught my attention was the 150th anniversary of Lincoln’s Gettysberg Address.

As I listened to the stories and words surrounding this landmark address I thought in some ways we are still fighting this same battle.

On this Transgender Day of Remembrance I am reminded that we still are struggling to have that nation Lincoln spoke of some 150 years ago, a “nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all” individuals, all persons, each of us are created equal.

Although there has been some progress for women and African Americans, the LGBTQ community is still engaged in a great civil war for equality.

This is our war, but sadly, too many of the victims covering the landscape of our battlefield are our Transgender brother and sisters.

From the princess boys and prince girls being excluded from schools, forced to wear clothes to conform and being bullied; To the young people still being thrown out of their homes, living on the streets, targets for violence; To the sisters and brothers whose hearts pound every time they enter a public bathroom, are forced to show ID at traffic stops, for employment, even to vote.

To our elders in nursing homes who are often put in situations where their true gender identity is ignored and at a time when they are most vulnerable are again forced to conform.

To those we remember today who have been victimized, brutalized, murdered by assailants who often get a “get out of jail card” simply because their victim was transgendered.

And to those, whose stories we will never know, whose passing will not make the papers, who – no longer able to withstand the irrational hatred, the transphobia not only in the community at large but often in our gay community as well – take their own lives.

Yes, we have come a long way as a community a gay community. –Don’t Ask Don’t Tell has been repealed, The Supreme Court found the defense of Marriage Act Unconstitutional, Same Sex- couples can get married in 15 states, a fully inclusive ENDA is the Senate, human rights ordinances are passing in municipalities across the country and state but as we remember our sisters and brothers lost, since the Transgender Day Of Remembrance started in 1997with over 250 names on this year’s list alone, we must never forget that our struggle for equality is far from over.

Martin Luther King, Jr. famously said “no one is free until we are all free.” To that I would add no one is equal until we all are equal.

I have a dream of the day when there are no new lists of names on Transgender Day Of  Remembrance, when we recognize that who a person is not limited by this physical shell but by the unlimited spirit within.

I have a dream of the day when we come together on this Transgender Day Of Remembrance to remember and celebrate these lives, these martyrs – for we must never forget their deaths and sacrifices – because of hatred and intolerance.

Today the world gives little note, to the lives we remember here tonight. Their stories are buried deep within the pages of the media.

Our tears are unnoticed, our losses misunderstood but we can and never will forget who they were, how they lived, how they died and how much they mattered to us – their community.

It is for us the living to be dedicated to the unfinished work of full equality for the T as well as the LGB.

As Lincoln said some 150 years ago   “It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us — that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion — that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain.”

Tonight I stand here not as an ally not as a member of the gay community but as a member of the transgender community for we are all one.

 

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SPIRIT DAY: Fifty Shades of Purple

Thursday, October 17, 2013 is “SPIRIT Day.”  The observance began in response to a rash of widely publicized bullying-related suicides of gay school students in 2010.

Since 2010, each year on “Spirit Day” people have been encouraged to wear the color purple, and post purple themed/bannered messages on Facebook, Twitter and other social media to show support for LGBTQ youth who are victims of bullying.

After posting photos/graphics from GLAAD and the Transgender Law Center on my Facebook page, I donned my three shades of purple outfit and headed to work.

I work with a diverse group of people. They are good people but we are different. They tend to be more conservative to my liberal. They are more Christian to my spiritual. They are more suburban to my urban. I know for a fact that I’m the only one with tattoos, piercings other than on the ears, sporting Afrocentric natural hair and openly gay. So I was not surprised that no one else wore purple or knew why I did today.

We live in different worlds, come from different backgrounds but every day I recognize I have an opportunity, a responsibility maybe not to change but to touch hearts and minds.

It’s all part of living an authentic life, of being out and finding those areas of intersectionality that help us move the boundaries of inclusion towards equality.

So I wore my three shades of purple ensemble, and when the opportunity arose I told them why I was wearing purple and talked about the damage bullying does to young lives, especially young LGBTQ lives.

We talked as women. We talked as mothers. We talked as concerned community members. And in the end, we discovered we aren’t so different after all.

There’s a classical Latin phrase carpe diem—usually translated as “seize the day” or “act now.” Occasions, like “SPIRIT Day,” gives each of us the opportunity to act, to touch hearts, minds and be the agents of the change we want to be.

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The 26th Project: Jason’s List

Jason’s  List

1. aristocrat                     
2. bulbous
3. cabaret
4. dandy
5. embelish
6. frivolous
7. gallant
8. highbrow
9. infatuate
10. jock
11. kaleidoscope
12. luscious
13. mannequin
14. notorious
15. outrageous
16. plush
17. quirk
18. random
19. seaman
20. tattoo
21. umbra
22. victorious
23. walnut
24. xenophobia
25. yearn
26. zydeco

The Story

The aristocrat, the jock and the seaman sat silently on the squad room bench waiting to give a statement on the untimely death of Luscious Divine.

Luscious, a favorite at the local cabaret was best known for her sultry Cajun love songs played on her bright red zydeco. She was also notorious for her outrageous philandering with a random assortment of gents each one’s name listed on the “Honor Roll of the Divine” tattoo that extended from the nape of her neck to the small of her back.

Rumors of how she had died were spreading like wildfire throughout the region. Some said she had been strangled. Others claimed she had been shot. Some said she had taken her own life. While others believed she had succumbed to some mysterious illness contracted from one of her many lovers.

The only thing they all agreed upon was that Luscious Divine was found dead in her bed the morning of the 14th by her close friend and confidant “Dandy” Joe lying in her grand canopy bed cold and lifeless like a beautiful sleeping mannequin.

The aristocrat with the bulbous nose and receding hairline inched as close as he could, without falling off, to the far end of the bench. He wanted to put as much space as possible between himself and the other two lest someone mistake them as acquaintances.

“Oh my precious Lucia,” he sighed. He had refused to call her Luscious although she was indeed that. “If only you had let me take you away from this carnival life to my world where you belonged – my world of gentility and plush surroundings – you would be with me still. Instead you chose to languish in this umbra of iniquity and are now lost to me forever” he thought. A tear rolled down his cheek. He took a handkerchief from his pocket, wiped his eyes then noisily blew his nose.

Tired of sitting on the hard bench, the jock got up, stretched, thrust his hands into his pockets and walked across the room. Leaning against the wall, he looked over at the other two men sitting at opposite ends of the bench.

“I can’t believe she could sleep with that fat, bald, fart after sharing the bed with me,” he thought watching the aristocrat dab at his eyes. “Soft” he thought with disgust. He caught a glimpse of his own reflection in the squad room’s window. He adjusted his stance, turning from side to side smiling at the reflection of the tanned, broad shouldered, muscular creature he saw. He was what Luscious needed, what every woman needed – a real man. Why couldn’t she just have been happy with him? Why was he not enough? “Oh Luscious,” he thought, “You with your crazy quirk for odd little men, now you’re gone leaving this real man alone.

The seaman looked around the room, snorted then stuck a fresh wad of chewing tobacco between his cheek and gum. “Why the hell am I here” he wondered. It wasn’t like they had something going on or did anything before or after each visit. She was just Luscious – the bawdy wench in every port a sailor has a yearn for after weeks at sea. There was no need to embellish what had gone on between them. It was what it was – a bottle of rum, a lusty woman and a soft bed to wake up in every now and again.

A sailor’s lot is a kaleidoscope of adventures, some good some bad. Luscious had been one of the bright spots along life’s voyage. He could still see those jet black eyes, feel her velvety soft skin and smell her perfume – jungle gardenia – sprayed liberally on her body and her cool satin sheets. “I’m gonna miss you Luscious baby,” he thought and smiled.

The detective opened the door and summoned the three into the interrogation room. “We’ve got a bit of a dilemma here boys,” he began. “I’ve got a dead body, one Miss Luscious Divine,” he took another look at the report. “Well I’ll be damned that’s her real name.

Body was discovered by a hysterical house boy “Dandy”Joe” wearing a kimono and ladies undies.” He looked at the report again. “I’ll just be damned,” he muttered, shaking his head.

He reached into the bowl on his desk, took out a walnut and cracked it noisily. Alrighty then! No time for xenophobia.

Let’s get back to the business at hand – the untimely demise of Miss Luscious Divine.”

The aristocrat cleared his voice and said “I believe, in this instance, I can speak for the three of us in asking just why we are here? Are we suspects?”

The detective resumed talking about the case ignoring the question.

“As I was saying, Miss Divine was discovered by one “Dandy” Joe the morning of the 14th laying in her rather ostentatious by most standards bedroom. Apparently she had been expecting a visitor as the table was set for two. The identity of this guest was unknown to the Dandy who apparently prepared the boudoir for visitors on a regular basis and was quite familiar with all the comings and goings not just of the gents on the list but others who wished to remain anonymous.”

He looked at the three and saw no sign of surprise. That there had been a steady stream of visitors to Miss Divine’s bed.

“So she liked her men. What of it?” the seaman asked. “Good lord man, she had a list of lovers tattooed on her back. You’d have to be deaf, dumb, blind and stupid not to know you weren’t the first and wouldn’t be the last.”

The detective continued “As I was saying Mr. Dandy Joe had set the table for two, laid out the lady’s unmentionables – which by the way matched the set he was found wearing to a tee – uncorked the bottle of wine then returned to the kitchen to finish the meal while Miss Luscious shall we say prepared the main course.” He laughed at this own joke alone but the three remained stoned faced.

Getting no response he continued with the narrative “I can see how a man could become infatuated with her. She was a beauty tattoos and all. And her closet of lingerie and sex toys would titillate the appetite of any normal man. But what real man could live with that revolving door to her bedroom?

Well back to the crime scene. The dandy returns to the scene of the crime all dolled up in his kimono and matching undies with the meal.

Miss Luscious is no where to be seen in the room. The curtains around the canopy bed are drawn tight and dandy’s thinking the party has already started.

One of the wine goblet’s is half- full and the other is laying on the floor by the bed. He sets the table then notices no noise is coming from the bed. Seems Miss Luscious was a screamer.

He tips to the bed peaks inside the curtain and finds her dead. Her body dressed in white negligee like a bride on her wedding night and her body posed like a sleeping angel. He tries to wake her to no avail and then the hysterics begin.”

The aristocrat asked again “so sir I ask once more why are we here?”

“Yeah” the jock joined in “tell us what you want or let us get the hell out of here.” The seaman nodded in agreement then spit the wad of tobacco on the floor.

“You are here gentleman because of the writing on the pillowcase” he said.The three grew quiet and inched towards the edge of their seats.

The detective smiled at last victorious he had them right where he wanted.  “What writing,” they said simultaneously.

“The writing on her pillowcase in her own blood gentlemen containing your three name and the words ‘No more. It all ends now’” he said.

“So now let me ask each of you gentlemen why are you here? Are you suspects or will you be next?’

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The 26th Project: The list that began it all

This is the initial list that Tony and I exchanged back in 2007 and the crazy short story that resulted.

  1. Amsterdam
  2. Blind
  3. Crazy
  4. Dawn
  5. Edify
  6. Fracture
  7. Giddy
  8. Homage
  9. Infantile
  10. Jaded
  11. Klondike
  12. Lesbian
  13. Marsupial
  14. Negro
  15. Operatic
  16. Palestine
  17. Queer
  18. Radical
  19. Scientology
  20. Truncate
  21. Utopia
  22. Vixen
  23. Whimsical
  24. Xenophobe
  25. Yearn
  26. Zygote

My arrival on earth had been delayed by an unexpected brush with a meteor storm soon after passing Venus.  My destination Alaska where I would meet up with other members of the Interspecies Liberation Movement to get the revolution started on another planet – Earth.

I was dressed for the frigid landscape of the land of the midnight sun in midnight blue leather, of course. A leather jumpsuit with matching parka trimmed in silver fox and my signature six inch stiletto boots. Ok, not your traditional Klondike attire but stylish, totally hot and totally me.

I was all ready to step from my glitter capsule into the crisp Alaskan air but when the hatch opened I found myself, instead, smack dab in the middle of Amsterdam’s red light district at dawn. As the sun rose in the sky its rays reflected off the garish windows of the brothels and sex shops. The glare left me blind.

This was crazy!! I was in Amsterdam. There was no radical queer community waiting to pay homage to an intergalactic vixen preaching interspecies rights. Instead of throngs of worshipers chanting my name in sweet operatic tones I was surrounded by dirty old men in trench coats and drunken tourists stumbling in and out of the shops and brothels – so inane, so infantile.

No revolution here. Just crazed Dutch boys that didn’t want to vibe on my message, they only yearned to cop a feel on my muscular, chocolate, 6 foot 8 inch frame.  I lifted the flap on my pouch and pulled out a pair of silver framed sunglasses.

“Look Hans” one of the Dutch boys shouted “I don’t think she’s just a Negro. I believe she’s one of those interspecies hybrids.” A crowd started to gather. All of them watching, pointing, and getting a little giddy.

I cleared my throat and spoke. “Listen up folks I am not a neee-gro. I am a Black Lesbian Marsupial with a message for you. It’s a message about Utopia. If you care to listen?”

They kept mumbling and staring. Finally a short red-haired stud stepped forward, grabbed me by the arm and said “I feel you sister but these are lost causes. Let’s get out of here.”

We slipped into the coffeehouse at the Van Gogh Museum. “What happened? I’m here in Amsterdam and nothing. Where’s the love?”

Maxie, the red-haired dyke, told me that every since Tom Cruise had moved to the Netherlands and started throwing around Scientology doctrine and more importantly money there was a fracture in the community.

“So that’s why they’re so jaded – Scientology. Well I’ll be damned” I said

We left the café and headed toward my glitter capsule. I pulled out my astral map to chart a course for the nearest commune.

A trench coated xenophobe whipped open his coat and flashed me. “Want to play girlie” he slurred and reached out to touch me.

Just then a location lit up on the astral map – Palestine. As I charted my course I felt the jerk’s hand on my shoulder. I spun around and kicked the little weirdo, knocking him flat on his ass. “My back! You broke my back! I’m paralyzed” he screamed.

I scanned his body with my x-ray/CAT scan watch. “Quit whining you zygote. It’s not even fractured.”

I started for the Glitter capsule again. Ï heard footsteps running behind me. It was a band of queers “Wait! Wait! We yearn for Utopia. Take us with you” they called.

I could have turned around and given them a lecture but I needed to get to Palestine. There was no time to edify the masses now so I did the next best thing.  I said, “Get on board. I’ll tell you on the way to Palestine.”  We all climbed into the capsule, battened down the hatches and took off for the Promised Land.

We landed in Palestine an hour later. I had changed in to a hot pink leather mini dress with matching stilettos. I fluffed up my afro and opened the hatch. My motley crew and I were welcomed by the sweet refrains of the liberation anthem. The weather was hot, crazy hot and the sun reflected of the desert sand was blinding.

A sister from my home planet stepped out of the crowd and gave me a big hug. She was dressed in an identical leather mini-dress and stilettos only in lime green. “What kept you sister Yar? The Klondike team froze their butts off waiting for you” she said.

“Well I could tell you the whole sordid story but our “peeps” are waiting. Do you mind if I truncate?” I asked.

“Truncate! I like the sound of that. Truncate, my sister, truncate.” Xena said with a whimsical smile.

I gave her the reader’s digest version of my trip including the meteor storm and my stop in Amsterdam.  “Scientology! Wow!” she said at the end of my story. “I knew it was out there but it’s becoming a frigging cult.” “With Tom Cruise as its leader, the revolution can’t start soon enough” I said.

“Who are they,” she asked pointing to the wide-eyed, scraggly group standing close to the capsule. “They’re cool. Met them in Amsterdam and they came along for the ride,” I said. I let Maxie do the introductions.  Pretty soon everyone was talking and smiling.

I cleared my throat to get their attention. “That’s right, all eyes here,” I said. “Now that we all know one another let’s get this party started.”

“The sun’s pretty bright out there” Xena said as she put on her sunglasses with lime green frames completing her outfit. “I hope you brought some shades.”

“Am I not a Black, lesbian marsupial” I asked unsnapping the flap over my pouch and pulling out a pair of sunglasses to match my hot pink ensemble. We looked at each other, smiled then hopped towards the city to preach interspecies liberation to the believers waiting at the commune in Palestine.

Posted in Black women, Creative Writing, lgbt, literature, Short Stories, Uncategorized, youth | Comments Off on The 26th Project: The list that began it all