Yes madam, I’m a woman, would you like to see my breasts?

  

I cut my hair short when I was 16, I’d spent the early years of my teens gradually letting it get shorter and shorter, the more comfortable I was with who I was growing up to be. Then at 16, as the hormones buzzed around my body I cut it really short (it wasn’t a great cut, but it was mine). I wanted to create a new identity, I wanted to be able to own who I was, even without knowing what I would become.

I wore baggy tee-shirts (this was 2001), rugby shirts, flared jeans and vans and I fitted in to a point where I didn’t question why I didn’t feel right.

By the time I was 18 I’d grown it out again, not because I didn’t like the short hair, I just wasn’t ready to be that person, it was easier to fit in if I looked like everyone else.

And I stayed like that, too quick to conform, I even let my first girlfriend dictate whether I had short or long hair, she had fallen in love with me, and yet was too ashamed to be out, and apparently a girlfriend with short hair would have drawn attention to it. Now I realize how misguided I was to let myself be molded into something that I was not.

Fast forward 12 months and the hair was gone, into a stylish, pixie crop ready for me to take on the world, as an out, and proud gay woman, I didn’t have to hide who I was, as a women, or as a lesbian.

The stereotypes immediately label you, shirt, cons, short hair, they give you the identity that too many people try and shake off, I was ready to take on the world as a gay woman, I may not be the most feminine of women, but I’ve always considered my face to definitely be that of a woman, and although they are small, I certainly have breasts, hips and hands.

I have never struggled with this part of my identity, I am luckier than countless people in the world, I know that, I have never had to question whether who I was was in the right body.

I am willing to stand up for anyone who has a harder struggle than I did, I’ve struggled with who I was and it is only with the love and support of people around me that I am able to look back and understand that everything that happened to me, is part of who I am now and I use that to fight every battle I come across.

LGBT-Rights Image

This all may be true, but there is one part of my life that still upsets me, I still let it get under my skin and it festers, it burns a little worse each time, and to that lady who muttered sorry, that will never make up for it.

From the moment I cut my hair short, I have been called sir, son, this man, to the extreme that when out shopping a number of years ago, I was asked to use the men’s changing room. At some insistence I was able to persuade the dim-witted shop assistant that I was a woman and I would be using the correct changing room, but it made me shake, and cry and get angry at the world.

I’ve stopped counting the moments when the words slip from someone’s mouth, and even more often when no apology comes forth once they realize their mistake.

The one incident that really hurts though was this weekend, in a well-known German discount supermarket, waiting to collect a trolley. A mother and her son were picking theirs, as I stood to the side to give them some space, the mother turned to her son and said “mind out of the way, the man wants to get a trolley from over there”, at this point the young boy looked at me, and the woman realized her mistake, “woman, sorry”, muttered into the trolley she was pushing.

And that was that, it was not the words that got to me, it was the fact that she then did not take the time to explain to her son, that human beings all look different, that it was her mistake and that he shouldn’t judge someone at first glance.

That young man may now grow up to believe that all the gender stereotypes are a reality, and perhaps even if he struggles with his own identity, that it is not ok to be who you are.

I shouldn’t have to have my hair long, or make up on, or my boobs out, to be considered a woman.

I am expecting a lot, from that woman I know, from society, and from everyone around me, but I know, when I am lucky enough to call myself a mother, I will explain to my child that they can be whoever they want to be. Gender stereotypes will not exist in my house, and if, I make a mistake and judge someone before I have given them enough respect to take a moment, I will explain to my child why I made that mistake.

My child will be around gay women, gay men, straight women, straight men; I will introduce my child to gender and all the labels that go along that spectrum, just because they have two mum’s will not mean that they are missing anything, they will be loved, and given the respect as a human being to learn what is right and wrong.

I may not be able to ask all the people in the world who make a judgment on me, why they do it, but I will make sure that I do not let them get into my brain, from now on I am going to be proud of being me, apparent gender confusion and all.

 © CWatson 2007

From then, to now, with so much in between...

At 17 years old, I was in a world I didn't understand, with a life I was so ready to let happen to me for the sake of stopping the thoughts that swirled and stomped angrily around my mind.

I was ready for life to really begin, for something to make sense, I felt so closed off from anything that I didn't even really know if I was existing at all.

I was 17 years old and ready to give up on finding myself, I assumed that I was never meant to be found, to go from day to day lost and unsure until I could escape, even then I wasn't sure what I even wanted to escape from.

Looking back over the 10 years that have followed I find myself wishing that perhaps I had taken the courage, that I was sure burned through my veins, and talked to someone. Anyone. At 17 years old I was ready to assume that the world was nothing more than a series of painfully confusing moments that would never amount to anything. Now I wish perhaps that there had been someone who had seen in me, something, anything, that they could have used to pull me out.

But then I turn to that person who wishes that something had changed, and I smile, because there is not one moment of my life that I would change if it means I miss out on finding myself just here, and finding my hope, in amongst the random evenings spend searching the internet, trying to find people who would understand something about me.

At 17 years old, I was beginning to think that perhaps I was meant to exist on the margins of everyone else's lives. I didn't know how to put into words how I felt, I tried to, I honestly did, but in November 2002 I heard a song for the first time, I found a world inside its words, I found that my heart was able to soar and glide and smile. Until that moment I'm not sure if I really understood who I could become. Hidden away in the depths of my bedroom, as the homework was conscientiously done for fear of someone noticing that I was different, I found a song that gave me hope.

"Life's full of mistakes, destinies and fate

Remove the clouds look at the bigger picture"

Delta Goodrem, herself only just turning 18 at the time, and her first mainstream single Born to Try offered me something, a hope, a promise, a something, that I had been looking for. The words she had written, and performed as the song danced across the radio airwaves, offered me something I hadn't known that I needed. The song was on repeat every chance I had, a small mix CD of any Delta songs I could find online became the only CD that lived in my Discman. I searched and bought every Delta Goodrem single from Australia and everything she released in the UK for the first album. I went onto 'The Saturday Show' a kids TV show because I knew she would be there, one of the proudest moments of my teenage life was asking a runner to ask her to sign my CD (we couldn't go and meet her) and as he produced the CD she was amazed that someone in the UK had the Australian single edition, and that copy is still one of my prized possessions.

My Born to Try signed CD - January 2003

The song didn't just give me hope, and words that I could live by, this song, and by extention Delta herself, gave me friends. A connection to people across the world, who knew what it was like to search for something, maybe they were still searching, I was, but I was able to make friends with people who I connected with. I met one of my best friends in the entire world around the time Born to Try came out, 10 years on I would still trust her with my life, despite that fact that we've never sat in the same room together, our shared love of songwriting, of poetry and prose, of how words can portray something we're all looking for, that's what we share together. And for that, I will always be grateful.

I have never seen Delta perform, I have never spoken to her face to face, but that doesn't mean that her songs have not made a soundtrack to my life any less meaningful. Each album holds a truth that I've been waiting for someone to write down, an honesty about my life that I sometimes think only I can write, and then I hear the words echo out of the stereo. I do not always tell people about my past, or the parts of me that I sometimes am ashamed of. I have only given you hints here about a struggle I still find so very personal (there is no blame and no fault to lay at anyones hands), but if you find that you want to know my story, and you don't want to ask, listen to the lyrics of these songs, and there, amongst the poetry and the rhymes, you will find me, and thousands of others, curled, comforted, and calmed.

10 years on from hearing that song for the first time I have changed a lot, I am not the shy, unsure, person who hid behind the library stacks and hoped that for just a moment I could have some silence in my mind. I have loved, I have lost, I have discovered myself and who I am proud to be. I have a wife, who every day reminds me that she loves me, and that despite any self doubt, I am exactly who I am meant to be. I know that sometimes we attribute our lives changing for the better to one event, one song, one person, one feeling. I don't. I attribute it to every person I met along the way, who said that it was ok to be me. It was a journey I was destined to take, and each and every day I am glad that I took it, however hard it was, however hard life is still set to be, this journey we call life is ours to take.

But the first person, the first time the words of a song triggered that hope that I needed to feel, that was Delta.

"All that you see is me

And all I truly believe

That I was born to try

I've learned to love

Be understanding

And believe in life

But you've got to make choices

Be wrong or right

Sometimes you've got to sacrifice the things you like"

Card carrying members of a new society... for 31 days.

For the next 31 days, and potentially longer, the wife and I are vegetarian.

Card carrying, fully committed vegetarians, we even had to give up the parmesan cheese as that is not only dairy, its actually meat product (the wife advised me of this when I came home last week with some for the risotto). We will still each dairy and eggs, we are not to become vegan, but for the next 31 days we are putting ourselves in the middle of a little experiment.

We are not doing this for moral reasons, I've long had a battle with my brain about vegetarianism, and I fully support anyone who does this for that reason, I just don't have that bit of my brain wired that way. Instead we are doing this for a number of other reasons, sustainability, health, saving money but predominantly we see this as a sociological study. How do we, as consumers of meat and meat products, alter our minds, and our interactions with everyone else when we become a part of another minority (if you haven't worked out which other minorities I fit in then you can have a guess, answers on a postcard).

I went on a course in November which looked at ESDGC (Education for Sustainable Development and Global Citizenship - a Welsh Government Agenda to engage the idea of SD and GC within various sectors) within education. I came away from this course exhausted, and with figures running through my mind, especially how we, as individuals can reduce our own carbon footprint.
It has been reported that if you switch to a Vegetarian diet, (according to PlanetGreen ) we could save a potential 1 ton of carbon emissions a year by taking meat products out of our diet. That seemed like such a massive figure, I know I won't be able to analyze our carbon emissions, I would need clever tech/lots of time, but i like the idea that just for a short while, we might be able to reduce our emissions, and make even the smallest of difference.

I've heard many stories that turning to a vegetarian diet is very good for you, and having watch our tv chef favourite Hugh F-W spend his summer avoiding meat and subsequently feel better in himself, we realized that perhaps this could work for us. We are both fit individuals, very active and do not eat much (if any come to think about it) processed food, but will taking meat out of our shopping list help us feel better in ourselves? or will we struggle without the easy energy source that meat can give you.

By cutting meat out of our lives for the month, there is the vain hope that we might also save ourselves some money, we already buy predominantly local/british food, we started that a number of years ago and apart from the odd bag of oranges, or bananas we do buy fully british, but can cutting meat out reduce our shopping bill further? We already buy local meat, when we do buy it, so perhaps we may be kidding ourselves that our grocery shopping can be further reduced.

To mark our transition from omnivores to vegetarians,  and the night before this experiment began we became the stereotypical American for the night, we went to the 'bar', drank beer/cocktails and devoured 'all you can eat' chicken wings as we finally started to understand American Football (NY Giants v Falcons) on the various screens.
I must admit, perhaps it was the prospect of the following morning knowing that meat was no longer on the agenda, or whether a diet of only meat and beer for the evening is really not healthy, my body did kick up a bit of a fuss, perhaps it knew, and was trying to ease me, guilt free into a vegetarian lifestyle.

Over the coming month, along with blogging about our experiences, we hope to investigate new recipes, try new or under used vegetables or pulses, and understand our relationship with meat.

Perhaps in a months time we will be screaming to be allowed into the meat isle of the supermarket, or perhaps, the month will fly by, and we will not notice that we have missed meat at all, and we shall just continue, plodding along, enjoying the vegetarian way.

Whatever the outcome, I'm excited to face the challenge, and to see just what I can make out of the ingredients we have.

It's that time of year again...

(c) http://www.bbc.co.uk/wales/northeast

I do not believe in New Years Resolutions.

A bold statement I know, but I have always believed that you should not wait for the calendar to tell you that you can try and become the person that you want to be, it should not be the addition of a number to the year that gives you permission to change. If you really want to make a difference, make a change in yourself or the way you live your life, that should be when you are ready to do it. It is harder to do when you have to set your own limits, but you will want to stick to it more, if you are ready to change, change, don't just wait for society to say 'give it a try, but you know you won't get further than January 18th'.

At this time of year though, I do like to look back, to see where the last year has taken me, and to see what I have learnt, then I know what I can take into the new year, and what I know I will want to change, or develop at some point in the year. I cannot moan about something I cannot change, and if I can change it, do it, do not moan.

2011 was a pretty significant year for me, I did not get married (2010), I did not move country (2008), I did not start a new job (2008). But I did move house, less than a mile down the road, in January 2011, and it is just where we want to be, my health is no longer in question, and this is a big step in itself.

2011 instead, was about me growing as a person.

in 2011, I completed a triathlon (1.33) and I didn't die (though the run was particularly hideous) and I am even considering doing a slightly longer/outside one in 2012. The triathlon was the challenge I set myself, I wanted to push my body physically, and mentally. I wanted to prove that I was not just average at everything, I didn't want to win, I didn't do it to see where I placed, but I did it to test whether I had the strength of character to train for something, to commit to something, and to raise money for something I believed in. (£500.00 for Stonewall UK.)

2011 was also the year that I bit the bullet and ventured back into Rugby. I have always loved the game, and for a long time (after coming back from the USA and getting injured) I thought I would settle to just watch, never to really be able to play again, but in July I bit the bullet and joined a team, it was a big step for me, I am not very good at meeting new people, and I am very aware that I do not have the skills/talents to be brilliant. But I took a chance to spend a few hours a week with a lovely bunch of girls, and learn each week about the game I love, and know, that once I am fit again, I could play for them, well that just fills me with hope, and joy and a hell of a lot of nerves, but I don't think that is a bad thing.

2011 was the year that I started to fix myself, mentally and physically. I have seen a Chiropractor and a Counsellor (finally, a 6 month waiting list on the NHS after all). I have accepted that I was not being the best me that I can be, and I was suffering because of it. It is not an easy road, there are exercises, physical and mental, and there is pain, but it seems to be working, gradually, I am starting to like the person that I could become.

2011, I tried to finish my novel, at least to have the word count, but alas, life got in the way, Nanowrimo did not fit well into my life, November is a rather busy month, but I wrote 20,000 words, and realised just how I wanted the story to end, I feel that this might even be the better outcome than the 100'000 completed. I know where Annie is going, and who she has become, I like her as a character, finally.

And so to 2012...

I have a few things that I know, when I am ready, I want to work on over the coming year.

In 2012, I want to get the word count for my novel written, I do not want to commit to actually having a first draft written, because this is meant to be something that I enjoy, and I am aware that when you sit at a desk for 35 hours a week doing the inevitable things that come with earning a wage, you don't want to sit in front of a different computer (although if Fleetwood arrives in 2012 I may never want to go away from her.)

In 2012 (health pending) I would like to do another Triathlon, preferably one that has an outdoor (or longer than 400m) swim. After completing the one in 2011 I felt good, and strong, and I want to try and improve my time, it's a wonderful challenge (and the general tri season is luckily in the off season for rugby...).

In 2012, I want to enjoy the Olympics, this might seem like a daft thing to suggest, after all I am not competing, but I do have tickets, and I am taking the two weeks off. I want to be able to take the time to revel in the fact that it is in my own country. I love sport. I love watching sport. And I love experiencing new things with my wonderful wife. So, in 2012 I am going to take advantage of this event, not worry about the little pennies, and be a GBR supporter.

In 2012, I am going to be stronger, mentally, physically, emotionally. I am going to be braver, not all the time, because that is not achieveable, but I am going to take advantage of any situation, and sometimes, just when I think it would be easier, I am going to try and push through, and see what comes of it. I cannot consider myself lonely if I lock myself away.

... and finally, in 2012, and I going to be the best wife I can be, she has supported me through the most wonderful 6 years together, and the most magical 18 months of marriage, so I reckon I am going to try and be the best damn wife I can be.

So, 2011 was a big year, and I hope 2012 is one too, I hope that I can continue to find my poetry muse, and enjoy life, and revel in the little surprises (a tax rebait cheque arriving on the 27th December is one of them) that life can present.

Fancy coming along for the ride?

IPx

The look on your face suggests that this is a bad idea...

It is remarkably rewarding, being sent a PDF certificate that says winner across it, even if you have to make sure your name is filled in correctly and then print it out yourself. That certificate lives atop my CD shelves and I only glance at it from time to time, it used to live in the toilet, hung delicately in a clip frame by an old bit of ribbon.

The teeshirt I bought is worn at least once a week, sometimes to work, sometimes to the gym, I like glancing in the mirror and seeing Winner emblazoned across my chest. It actually gets worn more than my 'Triathlon' teeshirt. Perhaps I am more proud of this achievement. Perhaps I was so pleased with how it went, I'm thinking of doing it again.

Nanowrimo 2010. completed. 50,000 words in the month of November written. story created, character developed.

Namowrimo 2011 is next.

I like to tell people that I am an office bod by trade, and a writer by heart. They like to smile and nod and say 'Isn't that lovely, have you had anything published?' then i look shamefaced and say that other than university stuff and a local writers group (both of which ended a number of years ago) I have not tried. Not really any way. Perhaps that is why the challenge of Nanowrimo appeals so much, I had never considered that I would even have 10,000 words of a novel in me, let alone somehow find a character to write 50,000 words on. I am quite proud of the story so far, the protagonist is a lot like me, but I like making up things for her to do, decisions that I might never get the chance to make, and risks that I wouldn't take, she has formed into this 20 something woman who i'd be proud to know.

Once you've written the 50,000 they don't tell you that you then have to edit it, to form it into something that someone else might want to read. That has been my problem, 10 months later, my novel has pen all over it, but that is it. It is no further forward.

So despite my at present hectic life, who knew developing a passion for sports and activities would take up so much time, I am thinking that November 2011 is going to be the next step. 1 month. 50,000 words. Not a new story, no new characters, just the next step along her story. I might be crazy. Annie's tale will be 100,000 give or take. My lunch breaks will be taken up, evenings when I'm not at training, weekends when I am not visiting people, jotted ideas scribbled across so many pages that I will get lost a little.

But I will report back, I will let you know whether I am a winner on the 1st December. Maybe someone might want to read it, maybe, just maybe, I can submit it to see if they'll publish it, then I might be able to reply to anyone who asks, 'yes, I'm a published author'.

'Atom and Dream'

(c) ninja921.wordpress.com

If you have ever ventured into the relms of Jeannette Winterson's vast collection of books, and stumbled across 'The Power Book' and read it, you may not have understood it, you may have enjoyed it, but you will know what the quote/title above means. It's been a theme in my live since the moment that I opened that book, it, in mind and my reading of the quote, covers the whole of existence in three words, there is the living, real world, and there are our dreams, our hopes our fears and our desires. I love that we are made of just two elements, there is the me, the physical me, and there is the me inside my head*.

Recently I have been trying to improve both these.




Before any comments are had that 'you are you, don't change' it is not about changing me, it is about becoming the best me that I can be, it is about taking what I have, the skills and the dreams and making my life count for something, even if it is just for me. (Cue singing dancing number from Glee as you imagine that I proudly fist pump and dance out of the room.)


Atom

If you have read this blog before you will probably know that I am doing a Triathlon (400m Swim, 19km Bike Ride and a 5km run), those of you out of my inner circle may also need to know that I have just joined a women's rugby team. For a very long time I have just accepted my body, my abilities, the way it moves, the way I am. And I like myself, I adore that I have red hair and freckles (it's one of the reasons my wife fell in love with me so i'm not going to argue), and that if I work a little bit my shoulders become muscly. But it wasn't enough for me, asthma and chest infections, and ankle pain and knee pain wasn't something that I was just going to accept, and live with. For the past 4 months I have been training, gradually letting my body discover some limits, and smashing them. I now try and do up to 3 hours of Ballet a week, I can bike ride for KM's and actually enjoy it, swimming isn't hard anymore, and best of all, I can run! Actually go for a god damn run. I am pushing myself physically, and it feels really bloody good. I enjoy not eating the choccy biccies too often, abstaining from alcohol and crap food sometimes, and hopefully I will feel (excuse the french) fucking amazing as I cross that finish line at the end of my triathlon. I can do things, and it feels good!**


** There is also a small amount of ego involved when you go running with a good friend and they comment on your good body in a tri suit... small things make me happy when you've put this much training in!

Dream

My internal self, or George as I sometimes call her (I don't have multiple personalities I just happen to like to have a cool name sometimes) has been through a lot, mainly thanks to myself. I won't go into details, but the idea of settling the seas upon which my boat rocks is a nice idea. Writing helps, putting words onto the white page, watching the flashing cursor jump and dance across the screen as a scene plays itself out across it. Instead of just relying on the sitting by myself tool of writing I am talking, to some of you, you could never imagine me being quiet, to some of you, I could never be loud, but I am learning to balance this out, thinking things through, talking and taking a deep breath calms George, calms me and helps me see how light the world can be. I've asked for things, instead of complaining that no-one understands, i've stood up and asked for it, the pulsing blood through my veins as I fought my self esteem was hard, but its amazing how zen you can feel when you take control. I may not be able to jump head first into a whole new life, but little things, help. I have whole weeks when I am calm, peaceful and content. Who knew 8 years ago that would happen. I'm looking after my dream and it doesn't feel selfish at all.


I fully accept that other people may take the quote from the novel, and twirl intricate meanings that are different from my own, but my life, as I have lived with those words for the past 6 years, has moulded these words to this.

It's been 7 months since I wrote about my new years resolutions, I've been editing my novel, I've been writing (though not enough) and in 5 days time I am going to run the South West Triathlon. For the next 5/6 months I think I need to work on my dream me, if I keep up this training and build my confidence the Atom will develop. Write more, submit more work to people, write articles, reviews general short stories, grow some confidence in my inner me and just feel like the words that are in my head have a voice.


Why don't you come along for the ride?



*I am desperate for these three words as a tatoo somewhere on my body, alas I cannot decide where so I shall wait until the inspiration hits.

Set your standards high ladies...

I've, over the years, had many conversations with friends about life and love; me listening, me talking, both of us crying into our beers talking about the 'ONE'.

Just this week I had another one, about trying to find someone, just a little other person (in this planet of millions) who wants to walk down the street, holding our hand, safe in the knowledge that they want us, just as we are, and we want them, just as they are. (Cue every girl in the world replaying 'that' moment from Bridget Jones Diary)

"I never want to work that hard, I just want someone that I can talk to, I want you just the way you are. I need to know that you will always be, The same old someone that I knew, What will it take till you believe in me, The way that I believe in you." (Billy Joel - Just The Way you Are)

We seem to spend our entire lives talking about this social construct, this idea that life is all about hunting for 'the one', the media, and films tell us every other weekend that romance is easy, that there is always a happy ending, but are we trying to find something that doesn't exist? Romance is wonderful, love is wonderful, I honestly feel that there is AT LEAST one person out there for everyone - sometimes, the right person is there, all along, just at the wrong time, sometimes the wrong person is there at the right time, who knows how this world really works - maybe that is why we spend some many hours and £ living our lives through the TV sets and cinema screens, hoping that for a short while, the idea of the perfect person, can exist.

When we look for someone to share our lives with, our 'sights' have been set from when we were little, we learn what we like, who we like, and the type of person we hope to meet along the road. But when we get further down the road, and that 'perfect' person just hasn't appeared, do we set our sights lower? or do we have to give in for a life of celibacy?

I haven't every really had a type, I was late to this whole idea of dating, accepting who I was and letting someone in, but I knew she had to read, had to like films, had to know that I would need protecting sometimes from the demons that appear, but for the longest time, I didn't think that person could ever love me, do the type of people we really want actually exist? Maybe.

All of my friends like different types of people, little traits that fit so perfectly with them that they make that 'whole' that consists of two separate parts, fine by themselves, but together so much stronger. But it would seem, these people aren't out there, or just aren't in the right place just yet. But what do you do when life gives you pineapples and all you want to make is Lemonade? What are we meant to do, not everyone has that little bit of hope sitting inside of them, knowing that just around the corner, if the stars align, that person is waiting for you.

In the end, maybe the best thing you can do, is not give up.

I set my sights higher, instead of trying to find someone to fit the standards I thought I wanted, I stopped, I set my sights so high that I didn't even look.

In the end, someone decided that little ol' me was worth the fight, that I was worth spending the time getting to know, and in the end, they have turned into the perfect parts of me, when I was looking, they were so far out of my league that I actually listened when people said they would never be interested, then I stopped looking, they found me, saved me, and it's now every-kind-of-wonderful about my life.

Why not stop looking, love yourself, love your friends, love LIFE... then the perfect person will find you, tomorrow? Maybe not, but if your life is wonderful, maybe someone will just fit right in!

'How honesty broke this lesbian heart'

or 'How teenage TV told the truth'.

*spoilers for UK people who haven’t seen the Glee and Pretty Little Liars episodes that aired w/c 7^th March*

I’m going to admit this right here, right now. I cried on Wednesday evening, curled up on my sofa with the laptop resting on my lap, with the only sound that could be heard were the racking sobs as I tried to compose myself. I was inconsolable, my wife came home, unsuspecting, and within minutes I was clutched against her again, feeling the sobs run through me. You would think now, (unless you know me personally of course) that something heartbreaking had happened, in a sense it had, I watched Glee.

Those of you in the UK may not be aware of the episode that aired on Tuesday night in the US, and some, like me, like to watch the brand new episodes so that you can have the delight of watching them twice. This episode, was different though, different from the rest of Glee, from the rest of anything really. It was honest. Heartbreaking, this was me, wish I’d not waited till I was alone, why didn’t I have this, honest.

Whether you like Santana as the bitchy cheerleader, or the crying vulnerable wreak we saw at the end, no-one can dispute Naya Rivera’s skills at portraying a feeling that EVERYONE, straight, gay, lesbian, bi, and all the others, have felt. The confusion of feelings, the pain at letting them out, and the heartbreak at admitting that everything could change.

And it’s not just Glee, I then watched ‘Pretty Little Liars’, some of you might look at me and ask why? Because it’s a really good show, and I didn’t know that Paige would do ‘that’ speech; I was delicate enough after Glee, but TV is finally being honest (and I am not complaining), yes, its drama, its heightened, it’s made glossy and shiney, but its honest. That pain that was burning across Paige’s eye’s when she looked at Emily and admitted, that, for now, she was so scared of everything changing, in a world that was always changing anyway (adolescence) that she couldn’t admit it, couldn’t admit that she was gay, that pain was real. That pain I felt sting my cheeks as I sat alone in my bedroom at university, knowing that perhaps, if I were honest, if I had the courage to open that door and talk to someone about what my heart was telling me, life would alter so epically that I might not even be left standing.

“If I say it out loud, if I say I’m gay – the whole world is gonna change.”

That pain that Santana felt, at the labels, at the confusion, at the complete emotional turmoil at admitting something like that, we’ve all had that, we may not have had the courage to say it out loud, to risk it, but we’ve all done it, straight, gay, lesbian, bi, whatever, we’ve all had that heart-wrenching moment when we realize that the prize is far greater than the risk, for Santana it was Brittney, for me it was the searing pain of realizing that I was falling in love with a best friend. I spent many a cold, lonely night sat on steps outside the union trying to gain enough courage to be in the same room as her, or to tell her. (in the end I was lucky, she kissed me, and then through the process of texts/emails we worked out what we could be). But dear god did it hurt in the process!

In Pretty Little Liars Paige has the experience of Emily to see how the world changes, we as the audience have already gone through everything with Emily, the pain, the heartbreak the sheer frustration and the inevitable let down of teenage life. She’s worried, but she goes to Emily, talks to her, and maybe, we might see in the long-term, that she finds the courage that we all, hopefully, inevitably find.

Santana and Britney, have the delightful (serious girl crush on her right now) Holly Holiday, she is exactly what those two girls needed, someone who didn’t judge, didn’t try to seem concerned, she just opened up the forum (with some killer jokes) and let them explore. I must admit to finding their talk with her, my downfall.

Until I went to university I was sheltered, not purposefully, not intentionally, but I was sheltered. Innocent, naïve; and looking back; very different from them all. What 16 year old, hasn’t kissed anyone but their first (and only) boyfriend at 12? What 16 year old wishes that somehow the empty loss in her would just go away, but doesn’t really know why it all doesn’t feel right, as if the body she is in isn’t really there, that it’s as if she is the ghost to her twin sisters reality. Come to think about it, there are probably countless/thousands of people just like me, but I hope, now, with the creation of these honest dialogues, these storylines that bring it to the forefront, that it’s ok to be confused, its ok to want something different, maybe now, even just a little, there will be a few less teenagers who don’t know, even if they have to work through their feelings, at least they know that someone, somewhere before them, has been there. I wish I’d had someone to talk to, it took me until I was nearly 19 to have ‘that’ conversation with anyone.

I’m excited to see the next steps in these journeys, to see if Paige, over the space of the series can find a small amount of courage to be herself (and I wish her all the best because I wish I’d even had the courage to talk to one person about my fear at that age). I’m excited to see if Britana will develop, and at this moment, I don’t care that Britney is with Artie, because as much as I want to wrap Santana up in a cuddle and never let her go, this is an honest story, so lets keep it so.

We all have so many stories to tell, we are all so different with different lives, lets see some more, different stories on TV. And I’m even proud to talk about the storylines with colleagues, with friends, with anyone who will god-damn listen, because this is big, this is visibility in US shows that people watch with their parents/siblings/friends and for once, lesbians exist!

The inevitable resolution...

I am predisposed to reject anything that I have to do because of what the world conforms to, however in the grand scheme of things I love traditions, not the silly ones like drinking and eating too much at christmas, but the real ones, like remembering that Christmas (although a religious holiday) is really about recognising that a little support, love and light is the way to make the world a better place.

For the most part, the 1st of January of any year is lost in the tick of another box and another year started, resolutions aren't my thing, I hate the idea of being forced to want to change my life because it just so happens to be a new year, this year however, the new year, or my need to change, has arrived at the right time. I feel so ready to start this, and 2011 is the right year.

Now before we get into this, 2010 was not a bad year, not even close to one, it was mind blowing, and perfect, mainly because it was like a roller-coaster with the epic highs and dips that for each moment you really did wonder which way was up. I got married and fell in love all over again and I settled and and I changed and it was crazy, but in an utterly brilliant way.

But now, now that the hum of the party has quietened, and the wedding album is made, I feel like it's time I sorted me out, little old me, who sometimes worries that i wasn't a waste of time, or that if I hadn't been ginger would i really be any use at all.

I hate the idea that when someone asks me, which they invariably will, 'so what's your new years resolution?' I will actually have an answer, but this year I'm doing it for me, to work out who the grown up me is, so that when I shake someones hand I know who I am introducing them to.

Actually, add to that, I am doing it because I had a nightmare a few weeks ago where all my loved ones were slowly moving away from me, and their memory of me was only the me that exists now, and I realised that I've done very little to make anyone proud to know me, and so in my little way, I hope the resolutions below make you a little more proud to know me...

1. Write 5 poems a month
2. Finish A Shortcut To Heartbreak (novel)
3. Compile and distribute/sell a BWS poetry collection
4. Take the positives from a situation, don't dwell on the negatives
5. Do a Triathlon (this one is for me!!)

So join me? Not in silly resolutions, but in one (or many) that might make someone proud? (mine may not be outstanding worldly contributions, but for me to help the world I first need to sort me out)

Note Edit:

The Kezzatron has reposted... you can read her reply, and the rest of her blog here...

http://fannybelligs.tumblr.com/post/2517870392/a-response-to-the-itinerant-poet

Lesbianism isn't scary...

© Image courtesy of BBC

Lip Service and me

*disclaimer, I make no promises that this will be a concise and detailed look at identity, but then who really knows 100% how they came to be them?

I imagine that every blog under this lesbian sun (based in the UK at any rate) will do a write up on ‘Lip Service’ and its new place in the history of Lesbians on TV and in pop culture. This is all well and good, but as I was trying to explain the show to a straight friend who tends to walk slowly backwards whenever I suggest a TV show (she didn’t take kindly to One Tree Hill and now forever takes my opinion with a pinch of salt), I realised that I needed this show more than just an excuse to watch hot women on TV. I needed it more than just a good tick in the right box for the BBC’s representation of lesbians. I needed this to find my identity.

That might sound like a strange sentence coming from a 25-year-old lesbian who’s been out of the closet for the past 6 years and is currently enjoying being a newly-wed. But my chat with my friend got me thinking, I have a very involved relationship with lesbians on TV, my partner seems to think it’s really just me looking at them, but it’s more than that, and somewhere in this blog post I hope to try and explain it.

Before all that though, ‘Lip Service’ has managed to break into the mainstream, yes I am fully aware that it was on at 10.30 on BBC3 but for the first time in I don’t know when, newspapers were covering the show (The Guardian Guide did a very good article on 09.10.10) and the BBC seemed almost, dare I say it, proud of their new show. This show was needed. FACT! Any lesbian, bisexual, gay, transgendered person who is struggling with coming out, struggling with the fact that they now think they are less than normal, need a show that showed a day, a normal day, in a normal city, where life just happened. I know for TV situations were heightened, angles were cleverly shot, and the ladies just a little bit too hot, but this was predominantly a show about a group of friends, who happen to mostly be lesbians. The upsetting thing is that this is the first of its kind. When the next show comes along (I hope along side Lip Service not to replace it) I hope it sits along side Eastenders, or Emmerdale, not because it’s a show about lesbians, but because it’s a drama show, that everyone should watch.

So, back to me, for as long as I can remember I’ve sought out role models, not the pretty models or girl group singers who people aspire to be, I’ve sought after someone on TV, a character, or a real life person, who hints at a life I could lead. And so, since the age of 16 (without me really understanding why), I’ve wanted to watch something other than the normal straight couple, and their beautiful rom-com relationship. Even when it got gritty, and the realism hit, I still didn’t connect. I needed something gay. I’d like to point out now that I do not watch lesbian shows just to look at the women, I watch it for the interactions, the relationships and the persona, if you were a straight lady, you would not enjoy watching a drama about two gay men, as much as you would like watching one about a woman and a man, not because you don’t want to know their story, but we all have a requirement to watch something that connects to our own lives.

At 18 I came out, to a few people, but I did it, out of the closet and into the big wide lesbian world. I knew I was gay, I knew that I fancied women and men did nothing for me, but up until then, I’d never met another lesbian, never seen anything on TV (Tipping the Velvet came out when I was 16 and opened my eyes to a world I knew nothing about but at that point it was just a horrible experience of sitting and watching it with my twin sister) I was the typical middle class suburban lesbian who didn’t know a lesbian if it bit her on the nose. But I knew I was one, and I knew that I needed a little bit of help finding out just who I really was. For me (and for many lesbians of my generation) TV was the way you found out who you were, pop culture, TV dramas, soaps and documentaries offered a depiction of life that we were meant to gobble up and not question. If someone was a chef, it was ok to like cooking, If someone rode a motorbike, it was cool to want one, that’s how society works these days. But where did that leave this little lost lesbian. Stranded!

Because I couldn’t be a lesbian, to the public eye at least, for the majority of my relationship with my first girlfriend, I threw myself into finding other lesbians on film and TV, I discovered a wealth of identity and confusion that I could pick apart and weave myself into, without ever having to leave my lonely little student bedroom. It was at this point that I found some courage. I bought Diva. So many people could probably tell you the horror they went through when secretly ducking into WH Smiths on the high street and finding the lesbian magazine, and then going to buy a really gossipy magazine to cover it with so that you could hide it on the counter, and not look the shop assistant in the eye. I went to university in a very small town, and I was petrified I’d meet someone I knew who would out me most publically, bringing shame on my girlfriend and me. I needed to grow up. But at the time I didn’t know that. So I took my lesbians home and devoured all the copies I could find. I needed to see what other lesbians looked like; Diva probably helped me more than I’m currently able to admit. I walk up to the counter now with pride, no more hiding, I only ever buy diva on its own, or at the supermarket, and always wish that the checkout assistant notices it, and looks up, and comment, in a positive way. They never do, but I like quite how far I’ve come.

Even though now I am happy, with my wife and my possible career change, there is always going to be a bit of me that needs to see lesbians on TV. I need to know that there are others out there, having normal lives, and normal days, they aren’t just the token character, who goes through the coming out period (more stressful that giving birth!!) and then just change their mind. We need characters that walk down the street holding hands, behind the main characters, characters who find that they’ve fallen out or in of love but its not some dramatic storyline. This matters to me. My identity has been formed now. I know that. But I need to know that one day, I won’t be shouted at in the street, that I won’t be told to go to the men’s changing room, that when I take my kids to school in the future I’m not going to be looked at in a funny way.

When I was trying to find my identity there was nothing there, I had to form my own idea of what a lesbian should be like, and now its constantly changing, I’m learning what it’s ok to be, how I should make myself just be the exact person I want to be, and I’m learning how the world sees lesbians, TV warts and all. And now, for newly outed kids, who need an idea of what life could be for them, they need to know that we’re out there, to support them, but also just living our ordinary lives. Let’s hope Lip Service can keep delivering the honesty and realism that it seems to be hinting at.

For more information here are some links:

Diva – www.divamag.co.uk

Lip Service - http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b00tq4d9

Tipping the Velvet - http://www.bbc.co.uk/drama/tippingthevelvet/

LGBT Support - http://queery.org.uk/StaticPages/Advice.asp Numbers and contact details

What is in a name? The surname argument

'Names, once they are in common use, quickly become mere sounds, their etymology being buried, like so many of the earth's marvels, beneath the dust of habit.'

~Salman Rushdie

As many people do in the run up to their wedding, I have been thinking a lot about names, their meanings, and their connection to our identity. It's always the way that when something is due to change you realise your relationship with it as it exists then.

Is your surname your identity? or just just a small part of the bigger sum?

As a woman, from a young age you tend to accept that your surname will inevitably change, you might even be one of those kids that scrawls across their notebooks with the new name you would have if you settled down and married (at the age of 14) the boy you seems fascinated with at the time. I did it. I'm not going to hide from it, my pencil case was covered in every imaginable version of all my could be names. But then the questioning came along. The 'was I different', and then the names stopped. I had enough problems identifying myself for me, let alone adding a new name into the equation. Questioning your identity from the inside is an enlightening experience, and nearly 10 years on from the first questions, I like the person I have become, and my name has been along for the ride.

Even if you weren't going to become the straight woman who would marry the 'prince' names are still a huge part of your life. I stopped looking at my name as something that would change for a while, and it made it feel much more like it was part of me, a little ink scrawled across me, but for a lot of people, their name has a negative effect.

Bad childhoods, sucky parents, no parents, divorce, realisation that you are in a marriage that isn't right, realising that to become the better person you keep inside you need to change the outside, running away, starting again... all very good reasons to change your surname, but does it make you a new person? or just a stronger you?

I've often wondered if changing your name creates a new version of yourself, or just a re-labeled old copy? Maybe next year I'll be able to tell you. I bring this topic to you as a few things are starting to arrive through the mail in my new 'married' name and its exciting, but a strange concept to get your head around.

I am proud of my surname, I like the sound of it, I like the history of it, maybe that's why I am just adding stuff onto my name, instead of re-writing myself, I'm just making a new addition, and its quite calming. I don't need to be a new person, I can just have a nice new bit, all shiny and special. Other people don't change their names at all when they get married, for them I guess their name is much more of their identity. A part they aren't quite willing to give up, and I feel like that's a very brave thing to do, it's much easier to give up, instead of staying resolute in your wishes.

I've often wondered if your name becomes more of your identity as a gay woman? because it's part of you, and you're proud of the person you've become? Maybe I need to do a straw poll, find out if there are people who use their names as their identity, or their identity as their names.

"Is your surname part of your identity? Largely so,yes. Having been married b4 i came out, I immediately wanted to revert to my maiden name when divorced - felt more me.(Sarah Watts)"

Don't we judge people on their names all the time? Like we assume that we have to 'improve' our names to be famous, and we think that we could never been exciting if we have a plain name. I think it was about time that a Jane Smith, or an Adam Edwards took to the stage and changed it all. (I am fully aware that this will probably never happen and fancy names will forever be connected to fame.)

I am fully aware that this blog has no real thread, just lots of questions. But isn't that what an identity is, just a lot of questions you spend your life answering?

Names are part of your identity, it makes you want to fight for or against what it represents, but it's not everything you are, its a small part of the massive sum, its like one tiny decimal in a very long division sum. So don't let the name that you were born into shape your life, use your soul, and mind and body to shape your life, and just let your name be the tag, scribbled across the bottom corner, almost out of sight.

What's in a name? That which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet.
~William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet