Category: Lifestyle

IDAHOT Day: No One Must Ever Know

“I want to be famous” he tells me. “And with looks and a body like that, my young friend”, I thought, “You could be famous in about two seconds!” What I said, however, was: “Famous for what?” meaning, for singing? for acting? for writing? for what? He answers: “So I can be rich” “But that’s a result,” I tell him; “It’s the result of DOING something or BEING something.” “I’ll get an agent,” he goes on, not answering my question, “and the agent will make me even more famous and richer.” Boringly, I implore him once more: “But you have to have an agent for writing, or for acting, or for SOMETHING. What will you have an agent FOR?” With two enormous, deep, soulful, sparkling dark-brown eyes that a Rudolph Valentino would envy, he just looks at me uncomprehendingly and changes the subject.

Now if this dialogue had taken place in Hollywood, or even New York, it would not have surprised me. In fact, this dialogue took place in a small village in Southwestern France, in French, and the young man, Philippe, speaks rapidly, forcefully, and remarkably unselfconsciously. His voice is husky, “with a sexy, throaty, buzz to it, and his conversation is rapid, sure, and peppered with trendy slang.

I’ve known him for about three years, having perceived him around and about the village. First I noticed him for a regal stance, a ramrod-straight carriage, an angular face with remarkable cheekbones, large, deep eyes, and a dark slender beauty enhanced by a superb, innate sense of movement. Later on I gave rides to him and some of his chums hitch-hiking from the village to one or other of the larger cities and towns nearby. Finally I got to know him better as the close friend of another youth who came from northern France to live in my house during a summer vacation.

The truth is that I lusted after Philippe since first seeing him. He didn’t look or act like any of the other village boys. He was taller, more stylish, outgoing, and talkative. Also very full of himself. Two years ago, a group of us went skinny dipping in the river, and I discovered that he looked even better naked than dressed in the baggy levis, loose t-shirts, and mounds of cheap silver jewelry so much in vogue then. I took photographs at the time, both color and black and white, clothed and unclothed. Never shy, he was more than pleased with the results of his modeling. Our friendship has grown slowly, and there’s a kind of jet lag between us culturally, educationally, socially, emotionally, as well as a considerable age difference. All those differences make our approaches and distances odd and fascinating, for him as well as for me. We’re very different animals.

Since I first met him, he’s been an apprentice to a baker, he’s quit school, he’s been in and out of the army, and twice already he’s been engaged to be married. Subsequent to a knife fight with an Arab buddy in the barracks, during which he was wounded in the knee, he was hospitalized for most of his military service. Endlessly bathed and tenderly tended by a brigade of military nurses in a hospital near Bordeaux who were only too pleased to nurse him back to health from a serious blood infection, he emerged with a slight limp which somehow makes his appearance even sexier. Released from the hospital, he spent his last several months in the military in an office shuffling papers, and his advisors are now requesting that he be awarded a full pension as a wounded war veteran. Philippe just turned twenty.

Having returned to the village four days ago after an absence of almost a year, I was pleased to see Philippe shortly after arriving. 1had gone out for an early jog, partly to fight jet lag; partly because if I don’t do it early in the day, I don’t do it at all, and partly because the morning was slightly misty and cool, a comfortable temperature before the heat of the day makes running a chore. Several kilometers out of town, a truck passed, and I perceived Philippe sitting on the deck, in the rear. He noticed me, as well, and we waved. I figured he’d stop by later in the day, but he didn’t show up until evening, just before dinner. I was very pleased to see him. He gave me a big hug and came into the kitchen where I was in the last stages of preparing a meal for Jeannette and Michel who were getting ready elsewhere in the house. I asked Philippe to join us, but he declined since he’d already dined and said he’d come back later for a coffee. He returned, almost on the dot of ten thirty, and we all sat in the living room while he recounted his life and army adventures during the past year. After an hour or so, Michel went home to sleep, and Jeannette, still suffering from jet lag, retired to her room. Philippe and I were alone for the first time in two years.

May 17, 2015
IDAHOT Day: What is May 17?

May 17th is IDAHOT day, International Day Against Homophobia and Transphobia. So what’s it about, well it was created in 2004 to draw the attention of policymakers, opinion leaders, social movements, the public and the media to the violence and discrimination experienced by LGBTI people internationally.

Some of us are lucky to live in countries where LGB&T people are protected from discrimination in the law some still have almost full equality with marriage equality being the latest to be added to the list of victories for LGB&T people, however this doesn’t mean that we do not experience homophobia, bipohobia and transphobia hate crimes, language or attitudes. It means we have some protection in the law, yet even on social media sites such as facebook, twitter and you tube homophobic language is prolific and often unchallenged by people and often when people face reported it, it hasn’t been dealt with. We hear stories of young people such as Leelah Alcorn who still feel it’s better to take their own lives than be who there are. So we still some way to go to exorcising the demon of homophobia, transphobia and biphobia from society, however we do have rights.

We can do well to remember how hard we fought for these rights and how now we need to turn our focus to countries where LGB&T people are persecuted and face discrimination, even torture, imprisonment and death! Look at ISIS and what’s happening in Syria and Iraq, where suspected gay men have been thrown off buildings and if they survived that stoned to death. Stories in the media of transwoman being murdered in Brazil and Latin America. The list is endless, what do our LGB&T brothers and sisters in these countries need, they need the media attention of the world focused on them, they need politicians and international organisations campaigning on their behalf. They need us to spread the word, to campaign as well write our leaders for them to lobby and advocate for us on their behalf.

This is why IDAHOT day is so important its for us to remember how far we have we come as well as for us to work on supporting our LGB&T brothers and sisters elsewhere have a chance of those rights as well. So donate some money, better still donate your time with a local LGB&T charity to campaign and raise awareness of this issue to our less informed heterosexual families, friends, co workers etc.

Remember we are far stronger together and international pressure will help them and let them know they’re not alone.

Jakeb

For more information please refer to the following links:
http://dayagainsthomophobia.org/what-is-may-17th/
www.twitter.com/authenticgayblg
www.theauthenticgayblog.wordpress.com
www.youtube.com/user/NorthernFella
www.lgbtv.co.uk

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May 17, 2015
IDAHOT Day: Please Don’t Discriminate Me

Tomorrow, May, 17th, is the International Day Against Homophobia and Transphobia, so I open this note with a passage by John Locke from his famous book The Second Treatise of Government in 1690:

“The natural liberty of man is to be free from any supervisor power on earth, and not to be under the will or legislative authority of man, but to have only the law of nature for his rule. The liberty of man, in society, is to be under no other legislative power, but that established, by consent, in the commonwealth, nor under the dominion of any will, or restraint of any law, but what that legislative shall enact, according to the trust put in it.”

This passage clearly states that human beings are not under the domination of other human beings. We are free and equal in nature.

In contrary, there are rules that restrict the social lifestyle of people that are seen as deviant and sinners. And gay, lesbian, and transgender people happens to belong under this category. Homosexuality is label as out of place when a “real” women and a “real” man is the perfect relations for procreation, especially in my country. It is undeniable that a gender belief system still exists in Indonesia. This dynamic creates tension between men, women and homosexual groups when forced to adopt this system. A stigmatized person does not have power or ability to fight the gender belief system because of the hierarchical relationships between heterosexuals and non-heterosexuals. The homophobic social class manipulates the beliefs, perceptions, values and morals to meet their paradigm.

Now I live in France and there are many Indonesian gay people in here. I have asked many in a casual manner about their desire to return to Indonesia and from the bottom of their hearts they all said yes. They do not want to move to France in the first place as they prefer to live with their family in Indonesia. For them, surviving in a foreign country without social support from the family, a life, of course, is not ideal.

Sadly, the situation does not seem to allow them to return to Indonesia. The Islamic mass organization in Indonesia always depicts homosexuals as despicable and blasphemous peoples. Homosexuals did not choose to be born as a homosexuals. The situation is the same one with those who were born as a “woman” and “men”. Did they ask to their God, “Please make me as a woman”?

The presences of gay social movement is a marker that “we are here”. Social movement such as the resurgence of gay wrestling group all over the world. I would like to commend the efforts of Dédé Oetomo (Indonesian academician and LGBT activist) and Mami Yuli (Indonesian transgender) who have struggled to be a member of Indonesia’s National Human Rights Commission. Although they have not succeed but they fought for all human rights especially for LGBT. Being a woman, men, gay, lesbian, and transgender, for me personally, there is no difference. It’s not about labels. It’s about respect and contributions to society.

To close this little note, French philosopher Jean-Jacques Rousseau through his masterpiece, Social Contract, said that every man must be free of any unimpeded, although in the end there should be a social contract. But it must be understood, and agreed together to create security, freedom and equality of mankind to achieve sovereignty. And also interesting to understand the statement of John Stuart Mill in his masterpiece, De La Liberté, that happiness will never be able to walk without the freedom of the individual, and to get it, we cannot impose a single model.

So STOP TO DISCRIMINATE LESBIAN, GAY, TRANSEXUAL, TRANSGENDER, INTERSEX, BISEXUAL, OR ANY SEXUAL ORIENTATION BECAUSE THEY ARE ALL HUMAN. WE HAVE TO RESPECT THEM AS WE RESPECT TO OURSELF.

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May 16, 2015
Travelling while Trans

“What are you going to do about the bathrooms?”

I recently travelled to Florida for spring vacation with my family. Florida is one of those states where a law has been proposed concerning the use of public restrooms, specifically targeting trans people. The idea of overzealous bathroom police has a lot of people pissed off and afraid and when a friend heard me talking about my vacation destination, he was concerned for my safety.

Truth is, I hadn’t thought about it yet. I was too busy catching up on work so I could hand-off to my co-workers. Once the topic had been brought up, however, I couldn’t get it out of my mind. Along with those concerns about men’s restrooms, I started having flashbacks about uncomfortable and invasive past encounters with the TSA. My anxiety level increased as departure day approached, even though I was also looking forward to several days in warm weather without work responsibilities.

Travel can cause anxiety for a lot of people, no doubt about it. Concerns about having enough time to get through security, making sure your pockets are empty and your laptop is out, fears about flying, concerns about connecting flights… it goes on and on. For transgender and gender nonconforming people like me, there are added issues. Will security give me a hard time for having an ‘F’ on my ID while looking male? Should I take my packer out before going through security, so that it’s not perceived to be an anomaly during the full body scan? If they choose to scan me as male, will my chest and binder be seen as an attempt to conceal something? Will I be pulled aside for a pat-down, increasing my wife’s stress that we’ll miss our flight? Am I going to be harassed in the airport restroom?

As it turned out, all of that anxiety and preloaded adrenaline was for nothing. I spent a week in central Florida and passed as male everywhere I went, with the exception of my wife’s family who are still getting used to my changes. I heard my former name and pronouns more from them than I had in months, but everywhere else I was seen and accepted as a man. The peak moment of passing as male in Florida happened while we were visiting Gatorland. We were sitting in the stands for a ‘close encounters’ show where they have audience members help them with mystery animals held in wooden boxes. The first mystery animal was a tarantula, held by a reluctant woman volunteered by her family. The second animal was a rattlesnake and the handlers wisely decided to keep that one to themselves. For the last critter, something large judging by the box it was in, they wanted four audience members, two men and two women.

With two women and one man standing in front of the audience, they were pointing to someone on our side of the stands to be the second man. I looked up behind me and heard the guy say, “No, not behind you.” I looked forward again and raised my eyebrows, surprised and delighted. Turns out my daughter had been pointing to me behind my back. That’s how I became the second male volunteer to go down to the stage and help hold a very large Burmese Python.

My experiences in Florida, along with my experiences here at home, reinforced something I’d been thinking already: the people who will be hurt most by bathroom gender policing such as that proposed by Florida’s HB 583 or California’s “Personal Privacy Protection Act” initiative will be those who don’t pass well as male or female, depending on the restroom they are trying to access.

These attempts at bathroom policing are promoted as necessary safety precautions intended to reduce the potential for bathroom sexual assault. What they actually do is set up the very real possibility of assaults by self-assigned gender police against transgender people and other people whose appearance doesn’t conform to expectations based on their gender. Basically, these laws would validate and encourage transphobic bullying, increasing the violence and victimization of a sector of the population that already faces a high incidence of violent assault and risk for suicide and self-harming behaviors.

These laws aren’t protective, they are attempts to vilify an already oppressed group of people through lies and fear-mongering. The specter of the male who cross-dresses in order to access women’s rooms and assault those using them is a boogie man without factual basis. According to an article on Mic.com on that topic, no statistical evidence was found of a single incidence backing up those fears. Lack of factual basis doesn’t prevent people from whipping themselves into paranoid frenzies, however, and it’s a familiar tactic used by social conservatives to hold back socially liberal causes aimed at equal access and respect for all.

A brilliant social media campaign by some trans men and women used pictures of them in restrooms corresponding to their birth sex to illustrate a point: if laws are put in place decreeing that we must all use the bathrooms corresponding to the gender assigned us at birth, women’s rooms are going to start being occupied by men and men’s rooms by women. And I don’t think that’s what Joe and Betty Middle America want.

You may be thinking, “Hey, that initiative in California and those laws being proposed in other states, they’re not going to stand, they’ll get struck down, for sure.” You’re probably right and I contend that they are a serious problem regardless. Every time a religious leader, politician, school board member or other community leader proposes or supports transphobic laws and attitudes, these are the messages heard by my community: you’re not wanted, we wish you would go away, we don’t want to see you, we wish you were dead. People who are eager to justify their feelings of discomfort about trans people hear: trans people are the enemy, it’s ok to harass and bully them, they don’t belong in our community, we should do whatever we can to get rid of them. Even when these laws go no where, they have an extremely negative and tangible effect. They are evidence that a lot of people are eager to be hostile and punitive against people who are transgender or gender nonconforming in other ways..

As I continue my transition, I will benefit more and more from passing privilege, seen as a man and accorded the benefits typically given to men in this society. For me personally, passing privilege is going to mean my life gets easier in a lot of ways. Eventually, I imagine I’ll be more confident and less fearful about going to new places and being around people I don’t know. Though that’s good for me, I know my privilege isn’t shared by all. Though I might be able to avoid transphobic violence, I’m not going to be satisfied with having secured my safety until that safety is shared by all. I don’t get harassed now the way I did when I was seen as a butch dyke but I still carry those experiences, along with experiences of misogyny, sexism and homophobia. I am committed to using my passing privilege to help others who don’t have those advantages.

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May 15, 2015
A Kiss Isn’t Just a Kiss

“The most eloquent silence; that of two mouths meeting in a kiss.” – Anonymous

Although kissing is often one of the first intimate behaviors performed in a relationship (commonly referred to as “first base”) and may seem to be a rather simplistic behavior, research suggests that kissing is of great importance when sizing up potential romantic partners and serves many functions. In fact, kissing appears to act as an important gauge when selecting a mate and can either enhance or diminish feelings of attraction to others. A study conducted by Hughes and colleagues (2007), 59% of men and 66% of women reported that “they were no longer interested in someone after kissing them for the first time.”

These results suggest that kissing plays a huge role in mate selection for both men and women, however this is particularly true for women. This gender difference in consistent with other research suggesting that women report finding kissing more important than men do (Wlodarski & Dubar, 2013). Interestingly, this study also found that men and women who rate themselves as highly attractive and with more casual/short-term relationships, rated kissing as more important than those who rated themselves as less attractive and with less casual relationship experience.

So, now that we know kissing serves as an important metric when sizing up a potential mate, what can we do to be better kissers? What variables are important to others when kissing (especially for the first time)? In a study examining kissing preferences among young adults (Hughes et al., 2007), a person’s breath and the taste of his or her mouth were the most important factors related to the quality of a kiss. The “wetness” of a kiss was also found to relate to the quality of a kiss, however differently for men and women. In particular, men reported liking “wetter” kisses to a greater extent than did women.

Although kissing cannot predict with 100% certainty how attractive someone finds you, it does play a role when sizing up partners. So, next time you are preparing for a first date, make sure to avoid drinking/eating anything that could result in an “untasty” mouth.

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May 14, 2015
4 Questions with Sandra Gibbons of Trannies in Trouble

SimplySxy: Can you describe what it’s like for you physically and what thoughts run through your mind as you’re being bound and gagged?

Sandra: For me, the element of bondage that turns me on the most is the feeling of being out of control or in a situation that’s potentially dangerous, or where I may be used sexually, or worse. But of course it’s all grounded in fantasy. I don’t really want to put myself in a truly dangerous situation or end up traumatized or injured, and of course if I do anything sexual in a bondage scene, my partner and I have probably gone over our limits and expectations beforehand and ideally I’m playing with someone I feel I can trust (of course, there have been exceptions).

So the thing about bondage, or the type of bondage I enjoy, is that it’s a kind of role playing, although there are ways to play that are edgier than others. I’ve certainly done a few play scenes aside from picture-taking where I later thought to myself, well, that could have gone really badly. But I’ve been very lucky in that I’ve never gotten into a scene where I felt like I was in real danger, and for the most part I’m very cautious and selective about who I’ll do this stuff with.

SimplySxy: There are a variety of binding, rigging and gag materials to choose from, such as nylon, leather restraints, leg-irons, duct tape, ball gag, duct tape. Which are your favourites?

Sandra: My favorite is probably duct tape, especially for duct tape gags that are wrapped across the lips and cheeks and encircling the back of the head, and with a big pair of panties shoved in the mouth first. This makes for a very effective and tight gag. That feeling of being “gagged” and of having your mouth stuffed and sealed up is probably the main thing that sends me over the edge. Being taped up and restrained with duct tape is great too, although obviously I use rope the most on my website, as that’s the default bondage material that most of us love. Leather gear is also great and can give more of a fetishy look.

SimplySxy: You look stunning in the pictures. Apart from the elaborate outfits and great set, what are the preparations required before each photo shoot session?

Sandra: Thank you so much. Taking the photos has definitely become a more involved process over the years. When I started out, I’d just get ready and kind of wing it and improvise as we went alone. Now I usually try to come up with a plan of what we’re going to shoot, quite often taking suggestions from what the model likes if I’m going to be working as the photographer. But there’s usually about a full day of preparation before most shoots, getting things ready, deciding on the outfits and coming up with some ideas. And quite often the idea for a shoot will be changed or even scrapped completely once we get going. A lot of it is a process and depends on who’s involved, what they’re into, how much they’re turned on by bondage, how intense they like it, and so on. I wish I could streamline things and make the process go faster but as the years pass it seems to be going in the other direction.

SimplySxy: Thank you for taking your time out Sandra and before we end off, what is your definition of “sexy”?

Sandra: Thank you again for having me, this has been fun! Well, I’d say for me “sexy” is that feeling of being weak in the knees when you realize you’ve gotten yourself into a situation a little over your head. And it usually involves a tight skirt, a tailored blouse (with a hint of spandex), five inch heels, stockings and a roll of duct tape.

Images courtesy of Sandra Gibson
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May 13, 2015
The San Antonio Power Jacket

A friend at dinner told me he was from San Antonio and then proceeded to tell me how boring it was there. In response I told him it was one of the most interesting places I had ever visited.

Startled and surprised, he asked me to explain, so I did, happily. As a young art dealer living in Boston in the early seventies, I learned it was worthwhile to take business trips away from Boston in the early Spring, because there was no early Spring in Massachusetts and Winter sometimes lasted until May.

Consequently, I took Spring business trips to Florida, Texas, California, and somewhere else which might be warmer and nicer than Boston in February, March, or April – which was almost anywhere.

San Antonio was a particularly lovely destination with an atmospheric old hotel I liked called the St. Anthony, and when you checked in at the St. Anthony, there weren’t many questions asked, and fewer to answer.

I knew the directors of two museums in San Antonio, so it was an advantageous place to visit for me, arriving with a portfolio of old master prints and drawings, along with a few modern works on paper, and several edgy newer works plus, startlingly at the time, photographs daring to attempt to pass as Art.

After a couple of days showing my wares around town, the work week was over and it was time to celebrate. I took off my three-piece suit, put on a pair of jeans and a pair of Western boots and set off towards a local bar which I’d located in a gay guide. Because business had gone well, I was feeling flush and in an expansive mood, deciding on the spur of the moment to take a hit of MDA, which we used to call “The Pink Pill,” to enhance the evening and to help overcome my slight nervousness about going out to a new bar in a strange town.

Arriving at the bar, called the San Antonio Country, there was a lot of frantic activity and some unusual sort of confusion, which I didn’t immediately comprehend. I bought a drink and watched what was happening for awhile, and it seemed to be some kind of rummage sale. Never having seen a rummage sale before in a gay bar, I decided to ask one of the locals what was going on. It turned out that a number of the fellows frequenting the place had decided they wanted to go on a ski trip. None of them had sufficient money to rent a vehicle large enough, so they arranged to hold a rummage sale in the bar to collectively raise funds for a trip to the ski region nearby.

Amused by the concept, I wandered through the tables which had been set up, looking at old shirts, old boots, magazines, and trivia which I found of little interest. In the very last row, however, a sparkling jacket hanging on a rack caught my eye. Originally a plain denim, Levi jacket, it had been lovingly tended and decorated over many years. The back bore a large letter C (for Claude, who had created this extravaganza) surrounded by jewels and a variety of artifacts, in addition to which the entire front, sides, and sleeves of the jacket had been decorated, fitted out, and encumbered with a vast array of pins, buttons, attachments, brooches, and every possible piece of bad costume jewelry imaginable. The left sleeve had a row of feathers sewn on in such a way that when you were leaning on the bar, the feathers didn’t get damaged. It was fabulous!

On the upper left lapel was attached a tiny bronze hand with a small clamp grasping bits of paper. When I inquired about the purpose of the bronze hand with the small bits of paper, I was looked at askance and told, with some attitude, that the paper bits were for giving out your phone number, in case anyone asked.

By this time the drugs had kicked in, and I was feeling ever more expansive. I asked to try on the jacket, and it fit perfectly. Needless to say, it was nothing at all like any Boston jacket I’d ever worn. It weighed about thirty pounds, and, because of all the jangling accoutrements, when I moved or attempted to dance, the jacket went into a rhythmic, noisy counterpoint of its own. I was totally enthralled and asked the price, which was a hundred dollars. Back then, that was more than three times the price of a brand-new Levi jacket. I contemplated the time and energy it would require to attempt to replace the adornments already in place and told Claude, the seller, that I would buy it. I vaguely recall telling him that it was an amazing piece of work, perhaps a masterpiece, and that it would probably end up in a museum. (At the time, the Metropolitan Museum was enjoying great success with its newly opened fabric and costume department.)

For a half-hour or so, I wore the jacket around the bar, enjoying the weight of it and the noises it made. Unbeknownst to me at the time, news had flown around the bar like wildfire that a crazy art dealer from Boston had paid Claude a hundred dollars for his Levi jacket and was going to put it into a museum. In no time, the jacket was gathering so much attention that it made me nervous, so I took it back to Claude and asked him to put it away for awhile, until I could work up to wearing it again.

After a few more drinks, I made another sashay around the bar, wearing the jacket comfortably this time, and I was cruised and approached more than at any time in my life. I quickly realized that it wasn’t about me, per se, but that the jacket had its own power, which an amazing variety of men responded to in different ways. At one point, two fellows were actually fighting about which one was going to take me home. This was a quandary unprecedented in my experience. While I was going a little crazy trying to figure out which of these two very attractive guys I should choose, the door of the bar swung open, and a stunning blond cowboy wearing tight jeans and a form-fitting shirt walked in, took one look around the bar, made a beeline towards me and asked simply: “Ya wanna fuck?”

May 10, 2015
Coming Out To My Mother

It’s taken me a while to write this post due to the complicated emotions I didn’t want to thread through. About two weeks ago, I finally did something I never thought I’d do in my entire life, which is telling my mother that I’m gay. I have been contemplating this move for a very very long time due to the major impact it will have on everything and the life changing aspects it will bring. Movies, blogs and real-life stories have all shown that coming out to homophobic parents before achieving stability and independence is not a wise move to temper with.

Being abroad has not only given me the space I needed to grow, but also the distance I needed to carefully question my readiness and consider the possibility of being honest. For the past year, I’ve been in a deep emotional black hole due to the many issues that came simultaneously if not consecutively. This also includes me recently coming to terms with myself. All that I was going through and the thought of wanting to be honest with my family has been eating me from the inside.

Throughout our intercontinental phone conversations, I have been dropping subtle hints over the course of the past few months. I told my mother that apart from the many problems that were depressing me, I was struggling with something else on my own that I just wasn’t ready to tell her. That sentence obviously spurred a string of incessant guesses from the concerned parent, in which I calmly denied on a few occasions when it hit the bull’s eye. However, there came a point where I would intentionally allow a long uncomfortable silence to fill in the correct guesses as I thought this strategy of gradual hinting would yield the anticipated suspicion on her part, thus one day lessening the shock and cushioning off the blow should I decide to come out.

My mother has always been my main concern. I imagined every worse case scenario if I’d came out to her, from her slapping me and throwing me out of the house, to the possibility of her endangering her own life due to the inability to accept. Therefore in the spirit of not wanting to cause her pain, I never gave in to my vulnerability and firmly swallowed my urge to speak out. However at this point, I had a selfish choice to make because I didn’t see how I could move on with my life knowing that my next of kin was somewhat of an estranged stranger who didn’t understand me for who I am. Coming-out to my family would not only help me face and better accept my sexuality, but would also help prepare them for the possibility of one day sharing my life with Matt Bomer a nice guy. Hence, despite the months of awkward built-up and subject avoidance, the final blow happened over the course of 3 days. It began with her casually working her way into the conversation while talking one afternoon.

She: [casually]

“Are you in a gay relationship?”

Me: [smile]

“Huh? Okay, I don’t understand Mom.”

“Why do you keep asking me that?!”

She:

“Remember when you told me how you couldn’t tell me about ‘a certain problem’ for it might get in the way of the two of us?”

“I had two sure-fire guesses after much thought and I think I may be right.”

“One, either you became a religiously obsessive convert. Or two, you are involved in a gay relationship.”

Me: [looks at her blankly]

She:

“Hmm I don’t know… I was looking for something the other day near the drawer and I saw condoms in your toiletry bag.”

“And on another occasion while you were showering upstairs, I was walking past your laptop and I happened to steal a glance out of curiosity, and there was this draft on the screen about some gay bar or gay sauna that you went to…”

“I was reading some lines of it and then I got scared so I stopped immediately.”

Me: [In My Head]

Huh? Wait a second… What’s going oon…

Oh my god. Fucking shit!

Noo way, she didn’t…

What the fuck! She knows!

And the draft for my blog…!

How could I have been so careless?!

Aargh, so much for privacy!

She:

“So are you in a gay relationship?”

Me: [sighed calmly]

“No Mom. I’m not in a gay relationship…”

“But… …”

“I wish I was though…” (Took a risk there!)

She:

“What?! You wish you were…?”

“You know very well that I wouldn’t support that right?”

Me: [calmly looking at her in the eye]

She:

“Well, I don’t know what’s going on. I won’t support it… but I’m just gonna leave you alone.”

“Whatever it is, just make sure that that’s what you really want!”

Feeling awkward, I pretended like the whole conversation never happened and casually walked out to the outdoor deck. While sitting alone on the bench, I couldn’t understand why I started smiling uncontrollably which was slowly turning into a silent giggle. Was I feeling embarrassingly awkward for being busted? Or was I to a certain extend happy with the fact that she now “roughly” knows? Apparently that night without my knowing, she privately broke down in front of my 19 year old brother at the thought of me being gay. Although I find it hard to believe that they didn’t see this coming, but he ended up consoling my mother that everything will be okay and that he wouldn’t judge me.

Growing up in a conservative society where the lack of awareness and understanding has catapulted gay people into a very negative image, my mother thinks that being gay is a trend. A trait that commonly manifests itself among effeminate men and transsexuals, particularly in the fashion and hair dressing industries. These are without a doubt shallow ignorant perceptions that stem from stereotypical association. I feel that it’s now my responsibility to educate and convince her how homosexuality really works in order to dispel all forms of homophobia and preconceived notions of being gay. Coming out when I’m still unattached would also further reinforce the genuineness of my case.

Fast forward to the following night, I found myself sitting on the couch next to hers. This time, no stuttering, no anxiety attack, no nervous shaking. In fact, I felt extremely calm and was definitely in the right state of mind to open up. We were talking and just before I knew it, the words “I’m struggling with my sexuality” conveniently flowed out of my mouth.

She:

“What do you mean by ‘struggling’ with your sexuality?”

Me:

“Well… Initially I wasn’t sure about my sexual identity, but now I think I know. I’m gay.”

She: [watery eyes]

“What… you’re gay?”

“How can you be gay?!”

Me:

“I am gay because I am sexually attracted to guys.”

Although it was nice to finally get it out, but it truly felt like the opening of Pandora’s Box as I didn’t know if that would have been my biggest regret in life. I proceeded to tell her about my conversation with R, and explained that this is no longer just about me any more, but other people too. I told her that my journey has been hard and that even until this very day, I still couldn’t accept that “being gay” has happened to me, although I’m trying. I understand now why it took me so long to reach this point because previously, I just wasn’t mature enough to handle it. But now I am. Above all, I also had to reassure her that nothing’s going to change as being gay is just a subset of me and will not define who I am in life. I am a real person first before my sexuality. However, the hurt she was feeling was obviously making her impervious to everything I was saying.

She:

“How long have you known? When did you first discover this?”

Me:

“Right around 14… That was when I started looking at guys differently and kept everything to myself because I was afraid of this unexplainable feeling.”

“I thought it was just a phase but without realising, time passed and I grew up struggling with it for almost 10 years now.”

“Imagine suppressing yourself for almost a decade! It’s not easy.”

She:

“How could you have kept this from me?”

“We could have gotten professional help if you brought this up earlier.”

“I’ve read articles of people who go through this and successfully got out of it after therapy.”

Me: [shakes head]

“You mean straight camp?”

“Nope Mom. You don’t understand! It doesn’t work that way.”

“You can’t change biology.”

“It’s not possible to alter a person’s sexuality. It’s not a sickness to be cured.“

My mother has obviously fallen victim to ignorance, fear and the lack of exposure. Like a wise man, I therefore had to spend the next hour patiently laying every brick of insight that would form the foundation to her understanding while killing off every underlying misconception. The discussion then came to a point of frustration…

Me:

“Mom, just take a moment and look at me.”

“Look at me in the eye and imagine yourself in my position, in my shoes.”

“How do you think I feel? THINK! About how I’m feeling…”

“Do you think I like being this way? Why the fuck would I choose a difficult life like this for myself?”

“Look I know you’re hurt, but at the end of the day, I am the unfortunate one who has to go through this and it sucks!”

She:

“Oh why is this happening to me? Why my son?! I feel so hurt… I can’t support it.”

“What do you want me to do by telling me?”

“You have already decided you didn’t want help.”

Me:

“Look Mom, I am not asking for your support because that wouldn’t be fair on your part, but rather your compassionate understanding of the situation… MY situation.”

The next few days were hard for us, for me in particular because I felt horribly worthless after having triggered this tsunami of sorrow. Everyday, I felt so ashamed of myself and wanted to disappear from life. I remember staying in bed all day and hoped that by constantly falling asleep from exhaustive thinking will make it all go away. During those moments, I really wished that I could exist as another person but not me. I wanted a reset button for my life as I thought about what it genuinely felt like to be an outsider looking at myself and feeling lucky for themselves that they’re not the one plagued with such sorrow and the burden of being gay during their lifetime.

But nevertheless, I’m going to acknowledge that I have been given this life, and therefore will have to carry it right through till the day I die, regardless of the circumstances. It is at moments like these that I really miss being a kid, where constant naiveness and innocence fuels your eternal optimism and shields you from growing into your own problems.

Thankfully in the end, my faith and instincts proved me right as my mother softened and came around after a few days, even while it was hard for her to accept. With reason being that she loves me too much and that her heart aches in the wake of the challenging journey and emotional hardship I’m actually going through.

She:

“I am really sorry if I hurt you in the middle of everything. It’s really hard to accept and it will take some time. But just remember that I didn’t mean to hurt you or make you unhappy.”

As I reflect on the tough week, I am proud of the courage I’ve shown and the milestone I’ve reached in 6 months. I certainly took a very dangerous risk by coming-out to my family without knowing if it will all be okay, but faith and determination certainly kept me going. The outcome could have turned out much worse, which is the reason why I am currently grateful for the comforting conclusion that materialised. Never would I have imagined myself writing this post so early at this stage as I expected it all to come much later. But at least now, it’s a huge load taken off my chest and I can let the passage of time do its job.

This article has been republished with permission from M. Visit M’s website to read more of his works.

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May 9, 2015
An Independent Girl’s Guide to Relationships

Maintaining independence while trying to foster a healthy relationship has been a challenge that independent folks have been facing forever! The ultimate independent woman’s dilemma: how do I stay true to who I am and meet my autonomous needs without alienating my partner? This dilemma isn’t just reserved for romantic/sexual partnerships; all relationships require the juggling of the individual’s needs and the needs of the couple (friends, family, sexual partners). From the perspective of one independent woman to another, I think there are four ideas to keep in mind as you try and navigate a committed relationship while also not losing sight of yourself: boundary setting, communication, self-awareness, and vulnerability.

Boundary Setting

First and foremost you have to know how to set reasonable boundaries for yourself. Boundaries help keep your sanity, especially in the honeymoon phase of a relationship when you and your partner are practically one person. Setting boundaries can be challenging, but for independent ladies, they are necessary to not lose sight of your goals and interests while dating someone. Set some rules, only see your partner three times a week so you have a few nights during the week to just hang out and binge Netflix or go to the new barre class you wanted to check out. Or if you live with your partner, take some time in the bedroom to meditate or do yoga while your partner reads in the living room. Intentionally creating space apart will make you and your partner enjoy the time you do have together even more.

Communication (Leads to Compromise)

Good boundary setting means you need good communication to set those boundaries. As independent ladies, sometimes voicing our needs can come across as selfish or dismissive of our partner, so being able to appropriately talk to our partners about what we need (or don’t need) from them and why is critical to a successful relationship. Communication leads to compromise, so long as your partner can meet you half way too. If you both are a good match, your partner will be able to hear your concerns, like your requests to spend more time with your girlfriends because you are missing the girl’s nights you used to have; and they should be able to work with you. Having good communication skills doesn’t just mean you share your opinions and needs in a healthy way; you have to listen to your partner and hear what their needs are too. It’s when you continuously feel that your needs and your partner’s needs are not compatible that there may be a problem.

Self-Awareness

Most independent ladies already are very self-aware, that’s part of what makes them independent. Knowing who you are, what you want out of life, and how to get there is what independent folks are usually all about. It’s about how you utilize your self-awareness though that matters in your relationship. Listening to yourself and your intuition is important. If you start noticing some discomfort within yourself when your new partner of only a few weeks already has a change of clothes and toothbrush at your place, or is asking to come out to your weekly girls nights, use that self-awareness to reevaluate the situation. Clearly your gut is saying, “Whoa wait a minute, get your own friends, give me time to myself!,” and that little red flag needs to be listened to.

Vulnerability

Independent ladies, we are all about doing for ourselves, right? For an independent person who prides herself on her self-sufficiency, self-reliance and strength, vulnerability can be really scary. Being vulnerable with your partner means being able to lean on them for support, cry on their shoulder, or ask them for help (even when maybe we think we don’t need it). These are all things that independent people can have a tough time doing, but we have to try! Vulnerability is so necessary in a relationship; if you can’t give yourself or even parts of yourself to your partner than why are you in a relationship? It is okay to let yourself need your partner every once in a while and still be independent. Showing your partner that you need them could bring you both closer together. Let your partner take care of you when you’re sick, or pick you up from the airport instead of calling a cab. Those little moments of vulnerability, little moments of “I need you” don’t make you any less independent, they make you stronger.

Unfortunately, sometimes despite our best intentions to set good boundaries, be a good communicator, listen to our guts, or be vulnerable relationships can still fail, and that’s okay. Qualities like independence, strength, confidence, and ambition are not qualities that deserve to be sacrificed in a relationship, new or old. If your partner isn’t someone that can support your goals (or at the very least understand that you need space from them sometimes), but rather is someone that wants to monopolize your time maybe they aren’t the right partner for you.

Hopefully though, by keeping at least some of these things in mind you may find that managing your time, your needs, and your partner’s needs is easier to do. There are ways to be an ass-kicking independent lady, accomplishing your goals, nourishing your own hobbies and friendships while absolutely loving your partner and not making them feel like a burden to you and your awesomeness!

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May 8, 2015
I’m an Otherwise Straight Man (Who Fell in Love with His Best Friend)

Mike was a “figured out” guy, an unquestionably straight man who came to the realization that he had fallen in love with his best friend.

After a bout of serious illness, his roommate took care of him and saw to his daily needs. Gradually he found himself looking forward to seeing Garrett when he came back from work, he missed him, he became the light of his life.

It occurred to him that he might be in love. Of course he shook it off but that unmistakeable feeling made him reconsider. One day, Mike took up the courage to say “I think I’m in love with you.” Luckily for him, Garrett shared the same feelings.

Both had no idea how to make things work. There was a possibility that it could not work. But it was a relationship.

Mike says “In every moment, we’re changing and evolving and growing. In every moment, we’re reconstructing our identity. We’re not defined by our decisions from two years ago. We’re not even defined by our decisions from two minutes ago. We’re defined by who we choose to be in this very moment.

We’ll never be “figured out.” Over the course of our lives, we’ll constantly be transforming into a more and more authentic version of ourselves. Our preferences will change. Our passions will change. And we have to be brave enough to choose the thing that makes up happiest in each individual moment.”

Edited to meet copyright requirements.

Reproduced with permission and thanks from http://www.mindbodygreen.com and Mike Iamele

For the full article please see http://www.mindbodygreen.com/0-14997/im-an-otherwise-straight-man-who-fell-in-love-with-his-best-friend.html

Labels and misconceptions

I thought this was a particularly poignant story to share with our SimplySxy readers. When we think about sex and sexuality, we often forget an essential aspect of love.

I think it is fair to say that all of us are brought up with a particular identity, mother with father, boyfriend with girlfriend, gay or straight. For some of us at adolescence, we have an opportunity to reassess our identity. Sometimes our strong bonds of identity inculcated in us from childhood makes us resist feelings, which un-mistakenly pull us in a particular way so we deny those feelings.

Sometimes we place a label on ourselves. No, I am definitely straight. No, I must be gay. It’s a natural human instinct to define what we don’t know to help us make sense of that unknown. To reinforce that definition, we push away our innermost feelings and attach negative misconceptions about a particular sexual tendency. We even go as far as to hate people who have accepted that part of themselves. For example, “ew he’s gay, I hope he doesn’t come on to me’.

I propose, in the spirit of openness that Mike’s story evokes, that we ask ourselves, as honestly and without judgment as is possible, “could I be different?” The answer, in my view is, probably; maybe; who really cares other than myself?

Am I over-simplifying things? Possibly. There are other very important considerations, like family approval, legislative prohibitions, to name a few. It is however, still up to you to make your relationship work and more importantly, to be brave and want to make it work. Is it worth fighting for?

On Love and other things

Mike is truly blessed (I don’t use that word often, its bastardised in many ways) to find love and be reciprocated at the same time. I can only wish I can find my way on the same path as he did. But love is difficult and fraught with trials, rejections and tribulations. But as Mike encourages, be brave and hold on.

xoxo Steph M

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May 7, 2015