Why?

This morning I was relaxing in bed, watching Todrick Hall’s “Straight Outta Oz”, when the following question crossed my mind: WHY. 

Now, before I get going on this, the question was not about the video. As a matter of fact, the video made me feel so many emotions at once, and it was truly a wonderful experience. If you decide you don’t want to listen to a whiny almost 26 year old complain and question things, I suggest you go watch that video. Yes, it’s over an hour, but it’s story will captivate you from beginning to end, and the tears will flow. Please, by all means, enjoy this journey. 

For those of you still with me, let me elaborate on the “why?”. As I was welcomed into Todrick’s masterpiece I noticed I was picking up on the lyrics more than usual. Let’s start with his song “Black and White”. It’s basically stating that we live in a world that wants us to dream, but the dreams better fit into today’s society. No dreaming of better, it needs to conform and be normal. Why?! Nobody in this world is normal, because there is no such thing. My definition of normal is someone who isn’t boring, they have random bouts of silliness. To my boss, normal is someone who is quiet, but not too quiet. To my coworker, normal is working out after work, remaining calm, and being slightly social. There, prime example of three different definitions of normal, proving normal does not exist. 

How about the song he sings about gun violence? Yeah, he talks about that. He’s saying that we need to protect each other from the pain and suffering that comes from careless, violent acts. Why, in 2017, is this still an issue that people cannot comprehend. If you want to have a gun, fine. But don’t be a fucking moron with it. Don’t wake up one morning and decide to kill someone. Is this that hard to figure out? And before you say that he’s talking about gun violence towards people of color, I urge you to educate yourself. Watch the video, hell I’ll even provide it for you, and notice the name Christina Grimmie painted over some graffiti. If you still don’t know who Christina Grimmie is, learn from Google. Or allow me to sum it up. Christina Grimmie was a young, aspiring artist. She started her career on YouTube, the same place Mr. Hall found his, and she found herself on the Voice, then found herself singing at her own concerts. If you noticed in my small summary of her the word was, congratulations. I said was because she was murdered. Why? Because someone with a fucking gun got a little trigger happy and couldn’t leave his weapon at home.

Let’s explore his song “Dumb”. This song has to be my favorite. He’s talking about artists flipping music left and right, with no heart in their work, and they make millions. He tried to be recognized for his talent, and because he is “made of burlap” people expect to hear rap from him. He also takes a glorious jab at women being less paid. In one song, he’s picking apart everything that is ignorant and outdated, and calling it what it really is, dumb. 

Why in the hell is all of this shit still a problem? Why do we sit by, quietly watching while hate is pumped into us. Why?! 

During one of the songs, “Expensive” I noticed something. Drag queens are walking down a runway, looking glamourus as all hell, and some are bigger than size zero. I started thinking that the standards society set for women may be just straight people being dicks. Now hear me out. Models are expected to be skinny, perfect, essentially a walking Barbie doll. But women come in all shapes and sizes, so why don’t models? I keep hearing “bigger women can model too” but the women aren’t that big! It’s still an issue of size! Now with drag queens? Oh honey, in the “Expensive” video, there are queens of all sizes, each looking phenomenal, and I realized that I was looking up to the wrong “women”. Why in the hell would I blindly worship a woman who counts calories, willing stays the size of stick knowing young girls are looking up to them? No baby, the drag queens are the true idols here. They know their beauty and they flaunt the hell out of it. Yes mama, that is who inspires me. So the question I have, why, in 2017 are will still allowing companies to market products on women the width of a number two pencil? Why should these companies be allowed to make strong, beautiful, intelligent women feel like they are worthless because they aren’t fitting into the cookie cutter beauty? Nah, fuck that. 

Why, why why? I don’t have the answers, and when I think I get close to a break through, everything explodes in my face. I don’t understand anything when it comes to why things are still an issue. I’m raising one boy to respect women are all sizes, to know women are the same as men, and to respect everyone, no matter how high or low they are in life. I’m also helping my boyfriend raise a daughter to know that she isn’t expected to stay at home and cook while her man brings home the bacon. She doesn’t need to be toothpick thin to be beautiful, and she uses her brain more than her looks in life. But what are we supposed to tell them when they ask us why? 

“Mommy, why are people saying women should stay in the kitchen?” “Courtie, why can’t my best friend feel safe coming out to us?” “Mom, why can’t a black man feel safe walking down the road?” “Courtie, why does a woman have to be so careful at a party, why can’t she have a good time and boys leave her alone?” 

What do I tell them? If you are a person who has problems with women, LGBTQ+, people of color, bigger women, or anything that doesn’t fucking involve you, tell me what I should tell my children. Tell me what to say when my step daughter is getting ready for her first drink at 21, and she is spending three days beforehand learning self defence with her father, only to come to me who teaches her to hold on to her drink. To make sure she is at a safe place, that she’s in a group, that of she feels like something is off to find an out. Tell me what to tell my son that is being taught by bigots and racists that it’s okay to hate people of different races or religion. Tell my son why he got beat up for standing up for his gay friend. Hell tell my son how much of a piece of shit his bisexual mother is, I’m sure that will go over real well. 

Tell me why this is still an issue. 

Tell me why we can’t fucking mind our own business and let others be happy. 

It’s 2017 for crying out loud. It’s time to put your nose back on your own face, and stop putting it in other people’s business. 

(Videos will be added later, once I get my laptop up to par once more.)

End rant. 

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Coming outĀ 

Many people will tell me that I’m not bisexual because I only date men. Others tell me that I’m just confused, and that I can’t be attracted to girls because again, I’ve only dated men. 

I came out when I was in high school. There was a small group of people I would sit at lunch with and I figured it would be okay to come out to them. I wore my black I love Lucy shirt and now that I think about it, it must have been best to keep everything to myself. Only one of the four girls were accepting. The others called me names, and even told me they didn’t feel comfortable around me. Feeling wounded and scared, I told them not to worry, none of them were my type. 

As the day dragged on, the word got out that I liked both guys and girls. I counted how many times I was called a dyke – fifteen. I figured it was best to just keep it from my parents for as long as I could. My friends didn’t accept me, so my parents certainly wouldn’t. I would have fake Christian values shoved down my throat, of which I decided to pass. 

The secret of myself held me down as if I were in a lake. My sexual preference was the mucky bottom that had gripped at my ankles and refused to release me. Each passing day of this secret being buried deep within me was another moment that I was losing air. I became depressed, and turned to the internet. Maybe I was confused? No, that couldn’t be it. I remember dating a girl at fourteen and remembered I felt more alive than when I dated a guy. I felt nor.al during those four short months. I smiled more, laughed often, I was truly happy. But she wasn’t. She left me for her ex girlfriend and I wondered if I would find a girl who did that to me again, or even a guy. I decided to lay low, take the awful names as they came, and just live with my secret. 

I don’t know what prompted me to tell my parents that I preferred both men and women, but I remember when it came out it wasn’t pleasant. I remember trying to tell them I wasn’t confused, and they still didn’t understand. 

Fast forwarding to 2014, I found myself in a gas station, paying for a pack of cigarettes and four gallons of gas when suddenly the cashier saw a pin I wore on my jacket. It was the gay pride rainbow, and the bi pride pink, blue, and purple. As I shuffled for the $15 in my wallet, I heard it. “It’s because of people like you that gays get no respect.” No respect? People like me? I asked him to repeat himself and when he did, my heart dropped to my stomach. “You people date both genders…You can’t be happy with just one. My partner and I get no respect because of people like you.People who are bisexual ruin things for gays? I threw the money at his face and stormed off. Doesn’t the B in LGBT mean anything, or was I told wrong? I sat in my car, hot angry tears soaking my face. No support from my family, my friends, and now even fellow members of the LGBT community were metaphorically shitting on me. Why was being bisexual such a bad thing? 

In 2017, I don’t care what people think of me. I had been written off as confused for far too long, to the point I was afraid to date who I wanted. I am now in a relationship with a man that I love very much. I still find women attractive, but I am loyal to my boyfriend, and I am in love with him. I don’t use my sexual orientation as an excuse to date many people, though I will not cut down someone who does. You see, we are responsible for our own happiness, and I failed to see that. I allowed other opinions to make me think that I was broken. I’m not broken, I’m unique. I will stand my ground and making sure that nobody feels like they are not normal, that they are broken. You are beautiful, no matter who you are attracted to. 

The Safe Haven

First of all, I’m sorry for being absent for so long. Work has been picking up lately, and when I get home my mind is all but fried. To be honest I’ve been on auto pilot about ninety percent of this past week. The only time the auto pilot really kicked off was last night. 

My boyfriend and I decided to go bowling, something neither of us had done in a very long time. I’ll have you know he was better, but we had fun! On our way home, a good friend of mine called and invited me to a show at the gay bar a couple of towns over. I decided why not, after all the show was a spin off of my all time favorite, “Moulin Rouge”. 

On the way there, he gave me a brief rundown of the rules. Basically: no touching, stay off the dancefloor, and have fun. Simple enough, right? Yeah, no. I hate admitting to being wrong, but I was BEYOND wrong. 

We were about one scene away from the ending when the shit hit the fan. A straight guy decided that he wanted to dance, screw this skit that these people worked so hard on, and broke rule number two: stay off the dance floor. The emcee tried as hard as they could to get this moron to stop, even pulled his “attitude check” where the rest of the crowd aimed their loudest “Fuck You” to the guy, trying to get him to see that we weren’t standing for it. Finally he gave in, backing off the dancefloor, allowing the skit to come to an end. The emcee announced that the actors would be coming out for their final bow, and we watched them all file out one by one. My friend and I started cracking up when one of the actors stuck her middle finger up as she passed the moron who tried to trample on their hard work. We followed her lead, turning up our on finger salute to him. 

We figured things had calmed down once the deejay took over. Boy were we wrong. The group I found myself in decided to go dance and made our way to the white and red checkered floor. Suddenly we were all stepping on each other, due to lack of room caused by the one douche trying to ruin the skit. We shook our heads and before we could do anything, my friend was dancing on him, pushing him off the floor. 

It seemed like hours that we were out having fun. We finally decided our tired legs had enough, and took a seat. Unknown to us, we were sitting behind the idiot himself. As we were talking, we all gasped. The man had the nerve to throw his drink on my friend who danced him off the floor. Anger flooded me and I felt the alcohol induced rage present itself. The bouncers threw him out before I could find my footing, at which point I decided to have a cigarette. 

The man and his girlfriend d were outside the bar, shouting “bulldyke” “fag” and other unneeded comments. I lost my mind. I stormed in the building and nearly broke into tears. 

This place is a safe haven. This bar is for members of the LGBT community to come and feel safe around other people who are sharing the same struggle. We don’t come to your bar and scream “redneck” or “hick” or “white trash”. Leave us alone. 

I’ve learned something over the last few years. Not everyone agrees with your opinion. You can argue and scream, but they have the right to their opinion, as do you. Don’t come into a place and be against everything they do. The people in that area will come together as a team and make sure you never come back. Remember the DBAD rule. 

Don’t. Be. A. Dick. 

Lesson: you are entitled to an opinion, but don’t get upset when nobody else agrees.