Never Surrender

I am pleased there is a pride month, that is wonderful and amazing. Yesterday I watched the Queen Adam Lambert Story. It really hit home as they talked about Freddie and thought it was not the main point it reminded me of the struggles the LGBT community has and, in many places, still goes through. The things we have endured to be able to publicly come together have been bittersweet victories. The lives lost and destroyed along the way were crushing soul felt blows. Safety was in our hands as we wore whistles or sound making devices just in case some group of “gay bashers” showed up and targeted us. We had to always be on our guard, careful who we told and knew we were bi or gay. It’s the 90’s in the land of BBQ, rock-in-roll and river side fun. The hand full of openly gay clubs were shut down by either police raids for acts of lude behavior or acts of violence that drove patrons away. Firebombs burned a few to the ground and parking lot beatings were not uncommon, after all we were “asking for it” by expressing our desire to openly be who we were.

Most everyone in the community was scared back then, the few that were out and open were always in danger. It was the early days of don’t ask, don’t tell for the military, a huge victory since before that anyone caught engaging in any form of homosexual behavior was kicked out of the service. Back then we did not have the LGBT movement, no laws remotely protecting us against discrimination. For those who reported being assaulted it often meant being branded or targeted. What we now call hate crimes were joked about, the victim often the “punch line” to be made fun of. That what they deserve for being deviants. Gays, bisexuals and Transgender people were grouped in with rapists and pedophiles, all equally sexually deviant according to the general public view at the time.

Back then, I was one of the loud and proud, with my multi-colored rat tail and bright colored underwear under white scrubs. I did not care what people thought and said about me behind my back, I dared them to say it too my face. Flamboyant and ostentatious were often used to describe me, I had an amazing primary male lover in my life and a couple female lovers too. It was a rolling party and the world was my oyster. I was bisexual and proud, open minded and in an open relationship; I was living the dream. Things changed and the dream turned to a nightmare, the jarring cold reality of life slapped me in the face as that relationship ended abruptly. Still loud and proud I looked for places to meet more like myself. Straight bars were good if I was looking for a woman, scoping guys was dangerous there. Gay bars, well that goes without saying except I was still too naive or stupid to hide the fact I was bi, but that is a different story for a different time.

The days of the internet had just started. Chat rooms were coming around and we had a place for anonymity and freedom. Finally, the freedom to talk about what we felt and our personal experiences. Ultimately, a place we could meet and talk about things that we wanted, there was an energy to it, a beginning of a movement. I don’t really remember when I first heard the term LGBT but it had arrived. It was still a turbulent time for anyone in the LGBT community. There were some people trying to find out who the gay or bi people were in the chat rooms. There were a few who would pose as gay or bi, “befriending” people and offering to get together for drinks. It was the new age and style of “gay bashing” as several were people were meeting up hoping to connect with an online “friend” only to be beaten or killed just for being who they were.

I had gone underground, or back in the closet, whatever you wish to call it. I had got married and had a couple kids and played the good American strait male. Not bashing but just a family man in a deep backwards southern town. I felt shame, not for being bi but for running away, I felt I had too much to lose to be engaged in the LGBT movement. It was not till two decades and two failed marriages later that I had another relationship that rekindled my bi side. I had met another like me, coy comments and double meaning phrases were passed between us before on night we found ourselves in a position we were able to take a chance and talk about the tension between us. I could say it was like coming up for air, but really it was like waking up again. Things I held back were finally able to be revisited and openly talked about. I rediscovered the LGBT community in my local area, it took a while for me to make any real connection and I do not fault them. There still are some people that want to hurt us for being open about our sexuality.

Looking back, I have great respect for those who stayed the course and kept in the fight. From Freddie who was center stage, my best friend who was able to be married in Washington DC several years ago to his wonderful partner, to the ones that attend the Pride Parades in whatever city they go to. I still stand by the thinking you do life your way and I will do it my way. I stand with pride alongside my LGBT family as we fight for our rights to be free to live without fear. I have found my voice again and am a loud and proud bi male who will never back down or surrender.

Check out who else is sharing for this #wickedwednesday


I am Disgusted

I am disgusted, enraged, revolted and otherwise just outright ashamed at the recent events in the kink blogging community. I will not be naming names or calling people out, I am seething, waiting for the childish hateful attacks to stop. If someone’s feeling or ego are so fragile they shatter like glass over a post that they took in a way so few have, then maybe they might want to look closer at their own self and do some soul searching. I am all for supporting friends and acquaintances but not at the cost of being divisive in our community that is already under heavy scrutiny and disdain from much of society.

These recent activities I have witnessed seem more like a pack of coyotes trying to take down prey rather than an honest mistake or blatant attack on the person or group that claims to have been wronged. To claim that someone apology was disingenuine or just for show will never allow them to ever be able to make amends. It is a militant mindset that disavow someone’s apology while constantly escalating till only their opinion is being touted loud and clear as if it is the only correct view.

It is disheartening to watch as bloggers that have supported and worked together for years now take sides. Suddenly there are lines in the sand, people that we are not supposed to talk or associate with. What happened to my kink is my kink and I can support others even if it is not my thing? Together we are a powerful force to be reckoned with, divided there will be infighting till only ashes of a once thriving community existed. As kink bloggers will we allow this to happen? I know tensions are high with all that is going on in the world, but people wake up, put aside the petty differences and allow an apology to be accepted. I consider those who will not accept an apology as the aggressor and danger to the community. The person/s trying to cause the fractures are a plague and the covid-19 of the blogging world.

For now, I will continue to blog what I feel like, write what I want to write. Participate where I enjoy participating and share what I feel like sharing. It is ok if you do not agree with me. There is a reason Baskin Robbins had 42 flavors, because we are all individuals and our likes vary. I will encourage everyone to stop and think how they would feel if suddenly they were under the same level of attack. Just be you, accept we are all different. Education is fine and disagreements will happen, but we are part of a big, fun great and often dysfunctional family. It’s time to stop bashing and start building one another up.

The Cold Truth

Now for my first Dashboard confession I am going to start off with this. Not an experience but how as the one behind the wheel I see the people that come and go in the cabin of my car. Each one different, dealing with their own moment and I get a snapshot into their life, tainted by whatever moment they are involved in or dealing with.

Do not disparage sweet mortal creature, the soft embrace of night will come as a cloak to engulf you. The dreaded specter of horrors and macabre isn’t near as frightening as the prospect of living in this day and age. It is not a case of if the Reaper comes, but when and how. Yes there are so many questions and so few answers. The vale is not an end but the beginning of a new adventure, a place of new hopes, dreams and exploration.

Alas the gift of immortality was not granted to the flesh of humanity. Eternity belongs to the gods whom watch and select the next cattle that is pleasing to them. Frail fleshy creatures, obsessed with life but not with living, to extend the numbers of days but not truly experiencing the gift as it is meant to be. Ants racing around as if members of a stirred mound, climbing over one another to reach that moments destination only to repeat it once again the next rotation of the earth. Plugging into the machine, being a cog in a vast engine that would still run perfectly fine without the infinitesimal offering. The worshipers that come in hopes of receiving some reward for the effort put forth.

Predator and prey wrapped in the same soft flesh, predators looking for the thrill of their prey falling under their prowess. The cycle a revolving door and there is no top or end of it all. A sea of tossed waves. One moment hunter, the next hunted, the hunter now hunted by the ones wishing to keep the status quo. The vast sea of sheep in the fold so tempting for the wolf, salivating as one has wandered into harm’s way. I bleating and then silence as the wolf licks its chops savoring that last tender bite. Self-appointed keepers of the flock, predators themselves hunting the wolf who will not conform to what is said to be the normal behaviors of the flock. Oppression of the flock’s expectation of each member quell the individual from striving to become more.

This quelling, is it the catalyst that causes one to fall astray so to speak? Is it the fuel that sets the soul ablaze to engage in various behaviors that seem deviant to others? I dare say this is far from the truth. The reality is much more exciting and frightening to some. In the hidden vault of the mind the pool of chemicals combine as the electrons fire. Neurons, receptors more chemicals, experiences cause waves of hormones that ebb and flow like a cerebral tidal pool.  Perception is so key to life, how one sees events, feels the moment unfolding. A glowing smile or a gloomy frown all but the difference of a few facial muscles both happening a moment apart as an event triggers the facial change. It is for the one that encounters the wearer of the face to determine if that is meant for them or is the result of some other event. A chess game for some, a challenge for others an enigma for many. Again, the action expected when facing a smile, a scowl, the embrace of a friend or the awkward bumping into some stranger, each has a socially expected response. Even in the last moments of life as the flesh gasps for that last breath, there is a seeming expectation.  

Act amiss from the status normal and watch as the sheep scatter, veer too far and see the gasp in horror. The truth is only in the public eye do they wear this façade, for the heart and mind cage their own would be deviant ideals. Captive to the form they die a little each day trying to keep an accepted appearance else they be cast aside for one that seems more normal to fit into that slot that has come available. Oh but the deep cravings of their carnal flesh do call, beckoning them to indulge in the sweet delights. The cookie in the jar calling, the apple with its tempting flesh just begging to be taken and bitten into. The self-loathing that comes as hidden desires plague the mind of the one trying to walk the line. Oh but for the one that tastes the sweetness it is nirvana for the delights are endless.

Linger on in the land of sheep and wolves, endure the realm and reality. One day the cloak will come and wrap softly or tightly bind plucking its fruit from this realm. Either way stop being afraid, look to the adventures and desires that are manifest in the depths of the mind, and live little sheep, live.