A Stranger in All Lands

The inspiration for the writing occurred after viewing a mostly harmless cartoon on a good friend’s facebook wall.  It was a comic which portrayed a woman unhappy and nagging at a man because of his body odor; which is a blatant stereotype I hate, the woman as constant nag.  Of course then, the “natural” answer as drawn and presented is the man wising up and becoming homosexual, pairing off with a new stud, and living happily ever after.

                                                                                     

As you know, being gay is a choice, at least that’s what conservative Christians want you to believe.  But, isn't the mentality of “ditch the bitch and make the switch” just as ignorant?

There’s another popular photo circulated online; in it, a group of people are holding a poster which says, “Bigotry wrapped in prayer is still bigotry.”  By the same token, wouldn't sexism, racism, and homo/hetero phobia wrapped in humor still be sexism, racism, and homo/hetero phobia? 

I wanted to comment; and carefully considered to how to make and contradictory perspective without offending a friend.  He’s gay, as are most of our mutual friends.   I posted one word ‘Typical.” to hopefully stir conversation.  The same friend and another responded with the similar thoughts that this was just humor and perhaps I needed one.

I was sure my friend meant nothing malicious when he posted the comic drawing.  Though seeing and hearing that sort of rhetoric from someone I’m close to hurt.  Perhaps you think feeling hurt was an overreaction, but things are bit different when you’re a stranger in all lands.  As some of you probably understand from experience, you are usually on defense, or prepared to be at the drop of a hat. 

People who are a minority in the community they live in have a very different daily experience.  There’s an easy comfort in majority, the feeling that others around you are of similar gender, race, creed, sexuality, etc… people don’t always have the luxury of that experience.  Some people don't have any community where they are a majority. 

German political scientist, Elisabeth Noelle-Neumann originally proposed the idea of the “Spiral of Silence” in 1974.  This theory refers to the tendency of people to remain silent when they feel their views are in opposition to the majority view on a subject; Noelle-Neumann’s theory largely relies on the idea that the opinion must have a distinct moral component (i.e.: sexuality, abortion, legalization of marijuana), no one will experience the Spiral of Silence while considering what movie to see on a Friday night.

I witness heterosexuals being hateful to homosexuals; homosexuals being just as hateful right back, and the majority at the ends of the Kinsey scale pissed off at bisexual men.

I've read about straight parents who've experienced difficulty in conceiving or adopting try to create more adversity for gay and lesbian couples who hope to raise or adopt children who desperately need a family.  The flip side of that coin is being sneeringly called a “breeder”, when the two gay men next to me have children and I don’t. 

Sometimes I can make it through a bar night or event where myself and the people I am closely with are not asked pointedly (without precursor or pleasantries) about our sexuality, relationship, or gender.  I've heard gay men who have certainly lived through much discrimination make racist comments about black men.  Some straight people assume I am HIV positive because I widely associate with gay men and some gay men have convinced themselves I must secretly have a penis, because I’m dominant and had sexual relationships with gay men. 

Can you imagine having to debate simple decisions like which public bathroom you should use when you are transgender?  I have friends which deal with this daily.  To wonder which space you’re most likely to blend into, to hopefully create no stir.  And knowing you’ll probably create some ripples, no matter your choice?

I am a queer, Pagan, dominant, polyamorous, six-foot tall, leatherwoman who has earned her Master’s cover.  I have found no place where I blend… at least for long. 

                                                                                                    

In kindergarten, I was the freakishly tall kid in the back row. 

In grade school, I was still freakishly sized… and with an overbite. 

In high school, I was the only woman learning in the welding shop class, during my art period, with hopes of doing metal sculpture. 

As a twenty-one year old woman, becoming a long-haul truck driver, then as twenty-four year old woman, first making my way into the leather community, the roads haven’t been smooth.  I didn't set out to have a hard way and be different, I just was.  My mother will verify this.  I also pierced all my fingertips with ornamental jean jacket pins at eight-years old, but that’s another story. 

As an adult woman, I've lived with two men; one straight, one gay, and been romantically involved with both.  Most of my family and friends are gay leathermen. Trust me; one doesn't blend with straight society making those lifestyle choices.

I've earned my Master’s cover at age thirty-six, but I’m still often asked, “What are you doing here?”  Both lesbian leatherwoman and gay leatherman, have said, “Why would you be at a (gay) leather event when you’re a woman?”  The answer is simply, this is the community in which I can most identify. If I refrain from attending leather events, because I am the gender minority, I lose my community, the opportunity for charitable outreach, and precious good times with family, friends, and lovers.

I've heard from more diverse mouths then I can count statements about “staying with your own kind”.  I’ll be damned if I can figure out exactly what my kind is.  Where is the queer, Pagan, dominant, polyamorous, six-foot tall, leatherwoman box?

And if I’d happen to find that exact niche would I want to be exclusively with people exactly like me?  It would get pretty boring to be stuck in a box with others exactly like us, wouldn't it?

A week or so after the comic was posted online; I began a private dialog with my friends.  I didn't want this to affect a friendship, so I shared more of my perspective.  They shared theirs, and both sides worked to better understand the other.  I also talked about the fact of how I feel I always have to be ready to deflect bullets, to help protect myself and the people I love.  As they have the best vantage points, the wound is always deepest from the people whom you are closest to. Very fortunately, our friendship is intact.

Consider always being out of your element, and what it's like to live (in as much grace as possible) daily in that fashion. For all which is said in today’s society about bullying, equality in civil rights, inclusion, and things “getting better”; often we don’t really see when we’re hateful to our own kind.

My wish for today is that people be kind and understanding to the people of this world who don't fit in boxes.

Like me, and many others. 

I don't know what life would be like without the people I love who have recognized kindred in a stranger.   They are the tribe of family who see each other past the lines of race, gender, age, or sexuality; they are my family.   Blessedly, we can call each other our own.

Everything You Wanted To Know About Justice, But Were Afraid To Ask... Before.

I've had people ask if I would do this, so I thought, "Why not today?"  I'd like to thank everyone who sent questions; I appreciate your openness.  

I plan on answering all the questions which come my way, and here are the first five to come in!

Enjoy.

D.N.:  Have you ever thought of having a baby??

I have, more than once.  

The last time was when Michael has a vasectomy several years ago.  The time before was when a leatherman in my leather family asked if I’d consider having a child with him.  He proposed that he and his husband would raise the child, and I’d be Mom.  They are two wonderful men and both dear to my heart.  The leatherman’s hubby laughingly said he needed a new Bentley from his husband to cinch the deal.  I gave the proposition serious thought and still wonder what it could have been like from time to time. 

Biology is a funny thing, and at least once a month (ovulation and hormones can be a very loud whisper in my ear) I absolutely have the desire to procreate.  I love children, but our lives and lifestyles are not conducive to them.  Who knows what the future holds though? 

S.B.:  So when is the other Michael coming up to take me on a date? Hee hee

I asked if you were serious… twice… and you said you were.  So, here it is.  I would say don't count on him coming.  Sorry.

M.M.:  How many licks does it take to get to the center of your "tootsie pop"?

If you’re asking literally, just one; I mean its right there and certainly easy to find. 

Metaphorically, it doesn't take licking to get to the center of my tootsie pop.  It takes being a passionate, skilled kisser and sharing mutual respect, friendship, passion, connection, and chemistry.  Oh, and intelligence.  Then the tootsie might be yours.

P.G.:  Why do men tend to be turned off by me?  Some people say I am too aggressive. I don't seem to attract men to me.

This is a hard one for me to answer, as I don’t know you well and only surmising.  And, I’m not a man, but I’ll do my best.

I can say I have never been turned off by you and always found you to be friendly, attractive, energetic, and willing to connect. 

Attraction has to do with so many variables: aesthetics, communication, interest, and chemistry.  And, in gay society often times men want to seal the instant deal.  Perhaps, you've not been in places where all you have to offer can best be appreciated.  One man’s too aggressive can be another man’s Mr. Right. 

P.P.:  Dearest Justice, Would it be physically possible for you to reach orgasm exclusively via ass worship? Has this ever happened?

My first comment is what do you have in mind? 

If this is possible, for women, I believe it would have to do more with mentality over physicality.  Once, I had an orgasm while giving oral sex, but I have never had an orgasm from receiving ass worship only.  

I’d like to finish up with, what do you have in mind?  

Did you like this?  Keep the questions coming. ;)

A Reconstructed Heart

 How do you rebuild a heart in which several dwell? 

If you’ve ever renovated a house, while trying to keep the family home intact, you know how difficult it can be. 

When a monogamous relationship ends, one can lick their wounds and rebuild in the way that suits them and them alone.  As a polyamorous woman, I cannot do that.  I’ve discovered it’s a focused process of maintaining my own emotional health while still being emotionally available and loving to others. 

If you are monogamous, and if those above phrases made your head explode, you might want to stop reading.

My last formalized D/s relationship ended abruptly in July 2011. I have not spoken of it openly before now.  It was the last thing I had expected in a relationship that had been highly negotiated, with a submissive who worked diligently to be collared.  After nearly a year of 5 hour commutes, meeting in the middle at leather events in Columbus, endless hours spent on the telephone, working out queer sexuality, and with an earned collar, he moved to Ohio and in with Michael and I.   Most of the time life was good.  Sure, there were some bumps, and life wasn’t entirely smooth, but he was family. And, I don’t kick family to the curb when times get rough. 

After a job loss and a festive Pride weekend, we returned home.  Several days passed when a dear friend called me to ask if my submissive had spoken to me yet about how he was talking about moving back to Indiana to reclaim his old job.  At the time, he had not, and I was hurt by the fact he would not think to share with his dominant, friend, and lover.  But, to be fair, I waited a few days to give him time to process, then approached him about it.  He was disappointed that my friend shared this information with me, and couldn’t comprehend why I was hurt that he hadn’t felt that he could be direct with me.  We took a break in conversation.  When we resumed, he had removed his locked collar.  And just like that, our D/relationship was over.

I’ll let you in on a secret.  Dominants can hurt too.  We cry.  We bleed, and we even yearn. It might not be macho, but it’s true.

My heart isn’t a revolving door, neither is my bed, therefore I have always been very selective about who I hold close.

Michael and I were heartbroken to think of him leaving, as he had decided on his own he was doing so.  Between Michael and myself, many tears were shed, but he seemed incapable of understanding our sadness.  We helped him with some aspects of moving.  He left, resumed his old life, and in short time turned his back on my birth family, my entire leather family and us.  I found myself in a place of mourning not only the loss of a relationship, but also a loss of family.

I was processing this loss as a dominant as well: being stoic while out, but kicking myself for not seeing it coming, and wondering if I could have done something differently.   For a long time I shouldered responsibility. At times, I distrusted my own judgment.

I was also dealing with feelings of shame.  I was ashamed that my submissive would come to think so little of a collar that it was removed with less thought than a used condom. 

I know how tight knit our community is, so I only spoke to two close friends about the loss; I didn’t want people to judge him too harshly, or shun him, so he could still have a place in the community if he wanted one.  

For better or worse, for many reasons I was dealing with my emotions mostly on my own.  I knew Michael was mulling his own feelings and it was important to me for him to experience his own without feeling as if he had to care for me.  I was also dealing with guilt of my failed relationship bringing strife and pain into Michael’s life.

One day, I realized I was only looking back at the relationship and all that transpired; therefore was blind to the future. I’ve never lived my life in that manner and I wasn’t going to begin to do so at thirty-eight.  I did fully open up to Michael in time, unedited.  He listened without judgment. Speaking of Michael, what a rock.  I am beyond fortunate to have such a present, loving partner.

I never had trust issues in regard to relationships, but I did now.  At times, I am fearful of being hurt so deeply again.  I recognize my feelings, but also know I won’t let this experience rule them. 

I was a year taking time to heal and the two of us; well, refiguring life with just the two of us.  If you’re wired like we are, there are so many aspects of life that are missed when you shift back to two.  When well meaning monogamous people would offer condolences, they’d say, “Well, you still have Michael.”  When I would respond, “Thank you.  But, you can’t substitute one loved one for another.”  They didn’t understand.

I have profiles on a few kink networking sites, and receive much daily e-mail from people seeking to connect.  A few are articulate and caring, most only talk to me like a fetish object created to please them.

In the spring of 2012, I sent a casual message to a man who had the most precious photo of himself in a dog cage on his profile. It inspired me to connect, if only to compliment.

He is a little more than a decade younger than me.   A musician and writer, and as I came to learn, mature, open, intelligent, multi-faceted, and creative with a sharp wit. 

We began small talking about area events, music, writing; it was always a pleasure to receive his messages.   He always wrote to me like I was a human, not a fetish object.  We casually texted, then spoke once on the phone, and then texted some more.

It was the July 3^rd, we had been invited to a pool party for the Fourth of July and out-of-the-blue I got the strong, quick notion to invite him.   After some dialog, he accepted and the plan was to have him come to the house to meet then ride to the party together. 

In the past, I had fairly regimented process in which I met with people from the Internet; sharing e-mail, then moving to at least a month of chat via yahoo, to the phone, then a drink or coffee.  What I had decided felt right, and I rationalized if highly negotiated relationships like my past D/s one could fail, that anything was possible.  I decided to abandon my notions in regard to protocol of “what works”.  And, I began to trust in my instincts again. 

I recognize now how brave this was for both of us and I am thankful we took a chance. 

Sometimes, I become fearful of the dreaded heartache.  But, I choose to never live in fear.  I know we all have histories, fears, dreams, and hopes that bring us to this place in time.  I have reclaimed my own heart, made it stronger, and it’s able to hold more love than before.  

Looking back, we’ve spent most weekends together since July and at this point; I am fully open to him, without regrets.  He has found a place in this resilient heart of mine.  I’ve come to cherish the time-shared and find myself looking forward to next time.  I miss his company and countenance when he’s not around.  Last weekend with him, flew by so quickly. Holding each other close in bed, Sunday morning seemed to manifest like a mutual surprise. You know time spent is sweet, when it dissolves as quickly as a sugar cube in Absinthe. 

I don’t know what the future brings, but there is one thing I know. 

What good is a rebuilt heart that is kept vacant out of fear?