Radiance as Queer Religion

Content note: abuse mention, queerphobia in religious contexts

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Well, a lot has happened in my life since I’ve been posting regularly. Another concussion, travel, the end of an abusive relationship, a new job. Hard things, good things, bad things.

But the best thing that has happened is a spiritual awakening.

I am full, deep, rooted in myself. Who am I to say that queers don’t get to have God? Who am I to say that I can’t hold Them, that I am less adequate because of who I am?

Certainly, God has steamrollered over that plan.

I’m saying “God” because I don’t have a better word. It doesn’t quite fit, but neither does anything else.

I have been struggling for months to get out of my own way–to write the deep heart soul writing I know I need to write, that I’ve been working to write on this blog for a long time now. To melt the walls around my heart so that I can hold myself and stand in power all the time.

When I am fully radiant like I am right now, all the hardships and fears on the planet can’t touch me. I laugh, I might even cry, I hold them tenderly. But they can’t tear me apart because I am whole, new, I am together with myself instead of fighting myself.

A friend who read my cards this week said when I asked about mental health, said that there’s the physical mind that gets sick and then there’s the spiritual mind. And spirituality has no limits, and it’s surprising what it can heal, it can heal anything.

When I am rooted and burning bright in my deep true light laughing powerful self, rooted in the universe, yes, I know this is true.

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Happy Genderqueer-oween!

TW: binary clothes shopping experience, suppression of gender expression at work

I was certain for weeks that I wanted to be a ninja turtle for Halloween. I haven’t actually seen Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles in a long time, but somehow all the new-movie advertising reached the insides of my pop-culture-insulated cave, and I remembered them and thought they were cool. A random person at a party informed me I was Donatello, as I chose “bookish” as the best adjective for me. A teacher I used to work with offered up one of her kid’s old ninja turtle shells. Things were set. I haven’t had an opportunity to wear a costume in a few years, so I was pretty excited.

Then this past Extra Hellish Week rolled around, and I didn’t have time to find a costume until today. I haven’t been expressing anything particularly frilly at work, because I don’t want anyone saying, “See?? I told you you were a girl!” It might sound odd, but even though I only sometimes wear “boyish” things, and never really identify as masculine or butch (or feminine or femme for that matter), and certainly don’t want to be seen as a butch woman, I’d rather be read as gender non-conforming in some way than not at all—even though, right now, I’d probably more consistently say that if I had to be perceived in a binary fashion, “fancy boy” would be what I’d prefer.

The result, though, of suppressing all other expressions at work except “dapper,” “bookish,” “flashy,” and, sometimes, “surfer dude,”—basically, suppressing my fairy/pansy self and my glam “lady” side—is that I have become increasingly desperate to express those parts of myself whenever I can. Usually meaning, whenever I care less about if people see me as a girl, or if I feel like most people around me won’t make assumptions about my gender.

So I suppose that I shouldn’t have been too surprised this morning when I woke up, and after the usual half-hour of what-to-wear panic, I determined that I wanted to be something frillier for Halloween. By the time I got off of work, I knew I wanted to buy all the flouncy, sparkly fabrics on Halloween sale at the fabric store, and safety-pin them together. (I haven’t sewed anything since our pillow-sewing project in seventh grade.)

After walking through the girls’ section and sheepishly trying on too-tight XL Frozen and My Little Pony shirts, and bemoaning the fact that people only seem to put glitter on “girls’” clothing, I wandered through the too-cute toddler dresses and high tops, wishing myself baby-sized again. By the time I tried on a girls’ pink flouncy dress that didn’t button in the back, and saw at least 30 princess Halloween dresses, I knew what I wanted to be: a fairy princess. The problem was, I wanted to be this 20 years too late, according to society. At the Halloween store, they even had a unicorn costume! And a RAINBOW FAIRY costume! But only for people 8 years old and under, or for very small others.

I am just small enough to be tempted by some of these costumes, but no luck. I am still cobbling together some sort of costume (I vetoed the LED-light tutu because it was $30, and I did get some girls’ rainbow fairy wings), but it’s looking like my dreams of full fairy-princess glory will have to be put off for some other time. Why do “women’s” fancy dresses come only in darker, more “dignified” colors? What, may I ask, is wrong with bright pink, lavender, and tulle? I am here to demand glittery clothes in all sizes! Go glitter or go home!

Just some basic fashion questions here on Genderqueer-oween. If you celebrate, hope you all have a genderfabulous evening!