Steer Queer Vol. 1 Issue 1

editted by Catherine Conley front and back covers by Kate DuPuis layout by Maggie Lynn Negrete

You may be wondering, “What am I looking at, and why is it included in this zine?” This is a photo of my uncle Bobby when he worked at La Normande, for more information contact which at the time was one of Pittsburgh’s fanciest, schmanciest restaurants. [email protected] My uncle was part of the LGBTQ community and would have been a great resource to me when coming out. Sadly, I was unable to meet him as an adult, and it’s a connection I have missed.

I would like to dedicate the first issue of this magazine to his memory and to all of the members of our queer family who are no longer with us. Without their tireless efforts, we would not enjoy the freedoms we have now. The world still has quite a ways to go, so let’s make a path for future generations to follow in the hope that they will never experience the struggles we face today. Contents

Letters to My Mother Noah C. Riley Confessions of a Queer Girl Catherine Conley Femme Problems Catherine Conley EKG Girl Chelsea Eddington Trans-itioning Joshua Dusk On Main Street Hannah Jarvis Asexual Awareness Evelyn Milburn Fragmented Heidi Simpson Winter Witch Portraits of Veruca la’Piranha Mousebones Untitled Anonymous Trans Racer Sarah Know Your Community Interview with Bebe Berretta Interviewer Needles Moriah Ella Mason Darkroom Casey Can Just Be Sam Thorp Untitled Collage Noah C. Riley How to Please a Man Letters to My Mother Noah C. Riley

Hi Mom,

I hope your weekend is going well. I was excited to hear that your dancing performance happened and I am so proud of you! I look forward to hearing about it. I also really appreciate how you’ve been in touch with me through my first birthday away from home. It has been a bit strange, but really, really amazing. I have an incredible group of friends in Pittsburgh (remind me to send you pictures blowing out candles on cupcakes and an apple pie. Sorry I forgot to smash my face in it.) I’ve had a great start to 2014 in Pittsburgh and my birthday was just icing on the cake (haha.)

Aside from a birthday update and whatnot, I’m writing you today to update you on other parts of my life. It has been a bumpy ride since moving here (ya know since the breakup happened) but it’s been hard for a number of other reasons. I know you get the sense that we don’t talk about things as much anymore. There are a lot of reasons for that, but it makes me really sad.

I miss sharing things with you and don’t want to feel like I need to keep anything from you. I have though; because I have been afraid of how you will react to the things I need to talk to you about. I’m done feeling that way though, and am looking forward to sharing new things with you so we can be closer again. In the past few years, and in the last year in particular there has been a lot on my mind surrounding how I express myself through gender expression, and my own gender. Today, I want to share those things with you.

Coming out as queer really empowered me to feel able to express myself how I saw fit. I remember when I came out to you and you were concerned/ Noah C. Riley confused as to why I had been dressing less feminine. You seemed confused because I had often dressed femininely through adolescence and I seemed to enjoy our many shopping trips and girly activities together. Gender expression is complicated, and there were a lot of times I dressed and made myself up femininely and was okay with it (I do have a great appreciation/like women’s fashion) but there were also times I felt very uncomfortable in my skin. There were also times when I expressed myself femininely to fit into the world’s expectations and to be appealing to guys. So naturally when I came out, I didn’t care about impressing guys anymore. When I cut off my hair and started wearing more masculine/boyish clothes, I felt so much more comfortable in my skin. Expressing myself this way or however I see fit has been one of the most validating processes.

As my expression through clothes and hair has evolved particularly in the past year, I have come to feel and realize a lot of other things about myself. While I started to feel more confident in the things I could put on my body, I started to feel conflicted about other aspects of my gender. This is why I’m writing you, and it’s to tell you specifically that since moving to Pittsburgh: I’ve realized I am transgender.

Okay, let’s take this moment now to do/process however you need or want. When you’re ready, keep reading.

I imagine you have a lot of thoughts and questions, and I have some answers for what I think some of those might be.

“What does this mean?” - It means I feel and identify as masculine- I.E. in the past year I’ve had a growing discomfort and anxiety when addressed with feminine pronouns (she/her), being perceived as female, and some discomfort/ anxiety with my body. Since moving to Pittsburgh, I’ve had the opportunity to be addressed with masculine pronouns in my group of friends and now at school, and it has been so validating and makes me so happy. My time here has really allowed me to explore this side of me, and I’m ready to share it with my world back home. I’ve tried using a different name here and it also feels really good. This isn’t because I don’t like or appreciate the name you gave to me, it just doesn’t fit me anymore. “Are you sure you’re not just a masculine/butch lesbian?” - This is a common question that parents ask, and I don’t know if you have it but I’ll respond to it either way. Butch or masculine lesbians are real, but that’s not me. My sexuality is queer, I like women for the most part (but I really just like people) and I feel like a guy/boy.

“Have I always felt this way?” – No, in the sense that as a kid I didn’t think to myself, “I’m a boy.” I think I have lacked a lot of self-awareness in the past. I subconsciously was interested in girls for awhile, but I didn’t become aware of my sexuality until I was 23. I feel this similarly illustrates my gender. I haven’t had much awareness of how I felt about my gender, but I have had many instances of feeling uncomfortable with my body and expression, how people addressed me. This might be confusing, because a lot of stories about transgender people in the media (like Chaz Bono) characterize the experience as something that you’re supposed to have known since you were little. That’s the case for some people, but not everyone. There are definitely a lot of transgender people in the world that don’t realize they are trans until they are adults and even some until they are seniors. I’m one of those people.

“Do I want to change my body to appear more masculine?” - Yes and no. I’m still figuring this out, but yes I want to appear more masculine. Because as it stands, the world perceives me as a woman and it doesn’t feel right and causes me a lot of discomfort and anxiety. You know my long and complex history with my chest, that’s also a complicated thing. I guess what I mean to say is, the body I see in the mirror doesn’t reflect the person I know I am.

“Are you losing your little girl?” - No, you raised me as a wonderful little girl into a smart and capable person. And while my sense of self and outward expression has changed, much remains the same. I still love to knit, sew, craft, watch Audrey Hepburn movies, bake, etc. I appreciate much of women’s fashion and still own makeup (I don’t use it often but on occasion I may) and there are a few days here and there where I do like to wear feminine clothing. This doesn’t make me less masculine, or my gender identity less valid, cause people can wear whatever they want ya know? And it doesn’t define my gender.

It’s only a facet of my identity.

I don’t know if I’ve left anything unanswered, but I’m hoping you will feel comfortable asking me if I have. This has been a really hard thing for me to write because it’s so very scary, but I’ve wanted to do it for a while. It’s not fun pretending to be something you’re not. I want to be my authentic self, and now I can.

I’m hoping that I’ll hear from you, but I know that you may want to take some time to process the things I’ve told you. If you could send me a text of, “I love you,” or whatever, just to know you have read the email, I’d greatly appreciate it. I expect that this will be something you will share with Dave which I am fine with (he can read this e-mail) and even Sarah if you want to. I’ll write something to Dad and Renee next. When you wanna talk, let me know. I’m probably going to nap tonight cause this weekend has been exhausting and so has writing this letter. I’ve also got plenty of reading resources and have attached one booklet if you are interested.

There’s plenty more to talk about, but let’s start here.

I love you and have a good night. Confessions of a Queer Girl Darkroom Catherine Conley Casey Canfield

Coming out has been hard, and I don't mean to my family and childhood I want to make out in the darkroom, friends. That part was easy. Or maybe easy isn't the right word, but I did some photos wrestling in the fix - major prep work before I told anyone. First, I moved away, and it made a huge seconds enveloping minutes. difference because I grew up in the Bible Belt; not exactly a safe haven for queers. I’ve found that distance makes people more forgiving of things that I want to expose your latent image, make them uncomfortable. I then spent the next year slowly coming out in watch your silver crystals collide varying degrees to all the people I left behind. It was a painful process, but not where light becomes dark. nearly as difficult as the struggles I faced locally. So kiss me in black and white Being queer is easy. Being queer and happy is doable, but requires quite at a five filter for twelve seconds, a bit of work. After I came out, I realized I had no community, no until the print comes out right. support. Allies are great, but it's difficult to receive consistent, genuine concern from straight friends when it sounds like I'm just dissecting the same issue over and over again.

You know what I mean. Your best girlfriend from high school was boy crazy with you, and that was okay, but now she's girl crazy. It's the same thing, just a different gender, right? No, it’s like she’s a whole different person! She will not shut up about gay stuff! The older we get, the less I have in common with some (but not all) of my straight female friends. Bonded previously only by boys and dating, these friends can no longer relate to me. But that's a natural part of growing up, growing apart, so I try not to dwell.

But even the friends that stand by my side, they can't understand that this is so deeply ingrained in who I am. They do not know what it’s like to be part of a marginalized group. To constantly have to justify your own existence. It's an ongoing concern for me and will be for the rest of my life. My relationship with my sexuality will always be a work in progress, and no matter how many peers tell me otherwise, I will feel obligated to update these people with any changes. Do not want to risk her seeing Okay what was I talking about? Oh yeah... So I needed queer friends, people mitochondria chugging away who could understand and sympathize with my issues. But where to go? I bolus churning didn't feel comfortable going to mixers or parties by myself, and the one-at-a- thoughts skipping across myelin time approach I was taking with OKCupid had resulted in approximately zero like frightened deer. close friends. I would love to say that once I set my mind to it, I found my So she taps me there, place, but I would be lying. It was pure luck that brought me to my current, at the elbow, close-knit group of friends, and it was my connection with those friends that and I shiver from touch opened up the floodgates for fabulous new people. where there hasn't been touch, A few months ago I came across a fundraising site for a film about femme and she says I have good veins invisibility in the queer community. I felt like I finally had an answer, or at and I tell her least the start of one. I don't look queer, despite what my mother says. Most I am afraid of needles. people can't pick me out of a crowd and I've been told that sometimes I come off as unapproachable. My sarcasm and respect for personal space translate as abrasive or cold, depending on how anxious I'm feeling. So here we have a socially anxious, sometimes awkward girl, who is trying to meet other girls for the first time and has no idea what the fuck she's doing. And how do you make new friends at an event where people are primarily looking for dates? Then you just look like a straight girl “passing through.” How is this supposed to work?

The short answer is: it doesn't. You have to break in before you can start making friends, or at least that's how it felt to me. I was totally isolated from other queer people and then, all of a sudden, I wasn't. Once people got used to seeing me around queer-friendly establishments and events, it was so much easier, I can't even explain. Because now people know: I see her here all the time. That girl is like us. But not that long ago, I was a totally invisible femme. FYI...it sucks. To me, there is nothing more frustrating than figuring out who you are and then having no way to express it. I didn't want to "look gay" just for the sake of flagging. Which, over much time and through many different avenues, led to the creation of this zine. This is a place where I and so many others can express the queerness within, I put his white and purple tuxedo on my one black Barbie, and unite with other people who have the same need. Our narratives are and so I suppose I began fetishizing different, most are more painful and heartbreaking than mine, but the one masculine-of-center women of color thing we all have in common is a need to connect with each other, to escape the at age 6. seclusion. In a city with such a diverse queer culture, it seems tragic that there I wore blue jean overalls and a flannel shirt are so few venues for all to network and feel welcome. everyday of fourth grade. I couldn't tell the difference between NSYNC This is a call for action. Do you sympathize with me? Think I'm full of shit? and the Backstreet Boys. Well here's your chance: start a dialog! What are you passionate about? What The other girls, changes do you want to see in your community? This publication was created all glitter and curls to express the opinions of everyone; not just those who are talented writers. I and strawberry-lemon lip-smackers, want to celebrate in your victories and be there during the bad times. would test me, and I would inevitably fail. I want to know you. I went to many burlesque shows. I wanted to see bodies that might surprise me Tell me your story. with their contours. I thought that everyone wanted to see girls without their clothes. And I worry this is all I know how to do, add footnotes to my past, scribble my way to safer times, fill emptiness with a busier emptiness I gaze so deeply into my navel that my body inverts and by the time night falls I no longer know what is inside or outside, Needles Moirah Ella Mason

She stares at my veins taps the throbbing blue vulnerabilities that hide in my creases. She wants to pierce me there, to drive herself into all my spaces and I am obsessed with her skin, must reign in my desperation to smell each pore, to taste each freckle, to sink my teeth into her fullness, or I will consume her as she burrows inside of me. She is the first since I came out, the first to require a title to relate her to me, when introducing friends. I give her a star on the map of my life. She has become the capital city of a state that sounds like love or longing or home. My days are spent writing footnotes, tallying up all the “should have known.” For example, Catherine Conley I only remember my female Barbies having sex, their hard breasts clinking together, while Ken lay naked and abandoned in the corner like a murder victim. EKG Girl credit Mousbones Chelsea Eddington

EKG girl sigh…

How you placed those ten electrodes on my body after gently abrading my skin with a brillo pad type thing and cleaned those areas off with alcohol, sigh.

It hurt so good. I could barely look you in the eye.

Why did you have to always so coolly say, “Hey girl,” whenever I saw you.

You made my heart race. How can we make an appointment with you?

EKG girl, didn’t you know I was a closeted lesbian and every time you scraped I work out of Empire Beauty School near Ross Park Mall. I am available for my skin with that brillo pad type thing I wished I wasn’t married and you would appointments between 9:30am and 4pm...but don't make an appointment later just rip off the rest of my clothes?? than 2 or I'll like, totally freak!

See, when you are a paranoid/anxious type with internalized homophobia, What are a few interesting facts about yourself? any woman who you are attracted to will shake you to the core. But EKG girl you really got to me. I am a childhood cancer survivor and I lived out of my car for 9 months until I moved to Pittsburgh. My paranoid, delusional self was so scared that you would notice my attraction. Plans for the future? “She can’t know,” I would say to myself, “But know what???” I plan to take Bebe further and incorporate her into my different art forms I had to get on that treadmill for the study and here I was, hooked up with to make her more multifaceted and get more of an idea about her back story the electrodes and I have this headgear and mouth gear on that is supposed to (which she has!). Finishing school, going back to school again (I'm a glutton measure how many calories I burn. I must have looked really attractive with for punishment), finding different areas of employment (I'm a simple cashier this getup, drooling every now and then because I have this plastic thing stuck at the moment), and in general trying to do everything a gay man in his mid- in my mouth like scuba gear. 20's is trying to do in life and survive.

EKG girl was standing right next to me, ready to take my blood pressure every time I increased my speed on the treadmill. I tried desperately to control my heart rate so she wouldn’t notice that every time she touched me, my heart beat a little faster. Know Your Community Interview with Christopher Scott aka Bebe Beretta, 24 years old

When did you start doing drag and what inspired you to start? “Oh god they are going to know,” I thought to myself. “Deep, slow breathes Chelsea. Don’t look at her, don’t look at her.” Then you had to touch my arm. I always wanted to do drag since I saw my first drag show in 2007. I wanted to be sure of what direction to go with it and at the same time I considered many “Deep breathes Chelsea, control yourself.” superficial avenues to go down. I have gone though much in my life and that delayed my start. Once I approached the idea again in 2012, I had a much more I was that paranoid. Of course they are going to see that every time EKG girl cathartic and expressive motive for drag. touches me, I blush a little and my heart rate jumps. Why wouldn’t they notice those little signs of attraction that seemed so obvious to me? I began dabbling [in drag] at There Ultra Lounge for Drag Search and to say the audience was incorrect for my performance style would be an It’s so silly now thinking back and this type of thing happened all the time. understatement. I left drag for a bit and a week after Valentine's Day in Like that year I was at Pride and a booth had one of those Magic 8 Balls 2013 I began again at the Blue Moon. I haven't left since and they are that told you if you were gay, straight or bi. I was nervous it would tell me my house and family now. I was gay. Yes, I feared that a Magic 8 Ball would out me. This was a few months before I got married. What is your favorite character/look and why? Or the time my ex-mother in law asked if I was only marrying her son Oh gosh. No matter the look or performance type, it's always Bebe. She's because I was secretly a closeted lesbian who just wanted to have babies very unstable so the performances vary from simple and happy to high and then run off with a female lover. I laughed with her, trying to hide concept to angry to (in the future) heartbreaking. I do love the opportunity my fear that she had figured me out. to let Bebe lose it on stage, but I also enjoy the times when she's just having fun and feeling gorgeous. There were so many moments like these when I feared someone would notice something about me that would give away how super gay I am! Now that I am What are you doing when you’re not on stage? finally out and happily experiencing what it means to be a queer woman. I wish I could just tell my past self that it will be okay. I graduated from Slippery Rock University in 2013 in International Marketing/Advertising/Asian Studies. I began beauty school in August after moving to Pittsburgh in July and I should be done towards the end of this summer, 2014. I love doing with hair what I do with Bebe- making new looks or concepts, creating something from scratch and working with different aesthetic ideas. Not always do I get to have full control, but I love working within the constraints given to me. Trans-itioning Joshua Dusk

I am afraid of the consequences of this decision. With my confidence sufficiently raised, I soon find a new group of What if women notice me behind them at night and feel threatened? friends that shares many of my geeky interests, and though I'm extremely I am afraid of what it means to incite fear. nervous, things go pretty well.

How do I know that my chromosomes won’t rebel? I don't really say much the first few times we meet because I'm afraid What if never measure up to the man I want to be? my voice will make it obvious I'm transgender. But gradually I allow What if I don’t know what kind of man I want to be? myself to be heard. No one reacts negatively to me and it is such a Maybe I don’t know what kind of man I am right now. relief given my expectations.

How will it be to see a different face in the mirror, looking back with the same eyes? My friendships develop quickly and we hang out all the time. Eventually, I What if my friends don't "get it"? feel comfortable enough to casually mention being transgender and it's a What if I can’t quite get my aim down at the urinal? total non-issue. I will go racing again once I fully complete my transition, but for now, the wait isn't so bad. Can I use those?

Fuck, what about male pattern balding? I have such voluptuous hair, man. Wait, am I vain? What if I don’t like the way my voice changes?

Will my grandparents disown me? Will my parents reject me further? I have FOUR siblings. How will they react to having a brother?

What about my publishing career? Who is A.S. Koury?

I am afraid of white male privilege.

What if I am not welcome in gay spaces? Or feminist circles? Or squares?

Will I have the Stone Butch Blues?

But I dig the idea of a beard. One of the main things that keeps me coming back is the clarity of mind. On I can’t wait to traverse artificial boundaries making bounds and leaps into conversations. the racetrack, I am genderless. For twenty minutes at a time, there is no male, no female, no yearning to be one or the other. It's just me in my leather racing No shoes, no shirt, NO PROBLEM. suit, giving it everything I have to beat the rider ahead of me. I am excited to feel like myself, whoever the hell that is. That is until I sit back down in the pit and reflect on the most recent race. Then it all comes back, the yearning, and the numbness that helps me deal with it. I can’t wait tickle my lover with my facial hair. I want a five o’clock shadow at The feeling stays with me in the time between racing weekends, and worst of every o’clock. all in the winter when there are none. I want to sign every birthday card with, “Love, Josh” and I want people to love Josh. Given the condition of my bike after my most recent crash, I realize it is now or never. It will be hard, but I am stronger than ever and I can do this. I have I am psyched to know how it feels to be treated like “one of the boys” and to transition or I will never be happy. I've waited too long already. watch the looks I get when I rebel against the stereotype.

Shortly after this epiphany, I get a call from a job I want in Pittsburgh. It I wonder what my voicemail will sound like with my new voice. promises a fresh start and I accept on the spot. I'm going to be me at last. I am looking forward to holding my partner’s hand in larger, more muscular My plan is to sit quietly at home while the hormones change my body, working hands. I can’t wait to see how beautifully different our bodies look together. their own kind of magic. Eventually, I'll look like the girls I see on the Internet after they've had a year or two of HRT (hormone replacement therapy). Then, I am embracing the fact that my eyebrows are going to take over the entirety I can start presenting as female in public. of my face.

Instead, my therapist urges me to get out and meet people. My family is super I am going to mentor others along this path who are also afraid. supportive, why do I think other people won't be the same? I wonder which insecurities go away after transitioning and which pop up. I am thankful for my chosen family and a fucking rad younger sister to support me. I'm terrified to shop for women's clothes in public while presenting as male, so I buy some online, along with a wig. I use these items to shop in public. I also Maybe this will make me a better singer. Maybe I’ll be a rockstar! Will there be groupies? want to get the wig properly cut for my face, but I'm scared of outing myself to anyone, even a hair stylist. It looks a little off, but I make do. I am excited and scared and nervous and ready. I am ready.

Love, Josh On Main Street Hannah Jarvis

Maybe it was a girl I saw who had Gradually, I come to my senses and begin looking into realistic ways to make blue hair in front of the boutique. my dream happen. The Internet proves a valuable resource. The hair was short, and the face was thin. The body stood as narrow as a matchstick, The concept of "transgender" was in my periphery as an unusual curiosity. and as I stared at her or him, I could not Now it consumes the majority of my attention. I begin searching my past define a breast beneath the black t-shirt for signs of unhappiness with my assigned gender, and the results are and open blue collar, or hips in the hidden legs unsurprising: dreams of being female since the age of 12, sneaking into my of jean trunks. But the eyes, they gave a hint, as sister's bedroom to try on some of her clothes. Things are starting to add up they stared down, wistful and quiet, and I think about transitioning. warm and brown, at the skillful hands, the broom sweeping the cement. The thought terrifies me.

The time, effort and money are on my mind, but my great fear of public humiliation is quite another matter. I can't see myself as a girl currently, and naturally can't expect others to do the same.

What if I just end up looking like a man in women's clothing, like the stereotype? I'm certain I'll end up being treated similarly. I imagine the worst possible outcome and decide that is the most likely.

At the same time, I'm very interested in racing motorbikes. I feel I have a choice to make.

I can transition and potentially face exile from my family and public humiliation everywhere I go, or I can go racing. Racing seems like the safer option.

For three years I push my mind, body and equipment to the limit, all in the quest for speed.

Being on the racetrack with two wheels and an engine beneath me is an absolute joy. I'm getting pretty good too, winning multiple races each season. Trans Racer Asexual Awareness Sarah Evelyn Milburn

Shitshitshit! I'm hurtling towards turn one, wide open throttle, and it won't Take a few minutes to familiarize yourself with some facts about asexuals! Both close. I reach for the brake lever and squeeze it against the handlebar like it's a adult and juvenile asexuals are capable of running at speeds up to 35MPH in rope sliding through my grasp. Finally, the throttle snaps closed, but the front pursuit of prey. When alarmed, adult asexuals raise a large crest of feathers wheel has already stopped spinning. In an instant, I'm on my back watching my along their necks and upper back; this can aid in identification, as the adult motorbike slide away from me in that sickening, disheartening way; on its side. asexual is otherwise difficult to spot. Although this display can be frightening, the adult asexual is harmless until threatened. Juvenile asexuals, however, are A dozen bikes roar past me as I slide off the end of the straight. There is aggressive and are armed with poison spurs on their back feet, which they an intense sadness and regret that comes from throwing your most prized will use to stab an attacker. There are no records of anyone surviving such an possession down the racetrack on its side, and it hits right about now, before attack. If you encounter an asexual in the wild, play dead, and the asexual will I'm done sliding on my leather-covered back. lose interest. Do not attempt to escape by climbing a tree. Knowledge is power. Don't get caught unprepared. I stand, glance at my stricken bike and shake my head. It's obvious this is my fault. Despite a mechanical failure, the true cause started a week ago in my garage. My head is swimming. I’m thinking about all the things I could have done differently.

I'm consumed by this pensive state for at least a month, as the cost to fix my motorbike proves even higher than expected. It's clear my racing season is over. I love it more than anything I have ever known but in this moment, I realize it's not making me happy.

Part of me wishes I would die on the racetrack. Something has to change. I need to change.

I knew for sure that was, am, a girl shortly after starting my first post-undergrad job, six months before my first race. Browsing the Internet one day, I found a web comic called “Misfile”, in which the main character starts off as a boy and turns into a girl. I was immediately overcome with intense yearning. More than anything, I wanted that to happen to me.

I suspend my affinity for logic and allow myself to entertain the idea of being magicked free of my male trappings and into my female body. Fragmented Heidi Simpson

When I met you, it was like looking into my beginnings Communion Not from that time I feel everything. I hear, smell, taste, see and feel his pleasure mirroring my But from this time own. Pure blissful adjacency. You were so beautiful & sweet I was so naïve Ecstasy The different pieces of you were like a puzzle I was putting On every level. Elation, happiness, joy, rapture, intoxication. Indulgence in together the forbidden fruits that are us. Us as a union. As two bodies becoming one. Masculine and feminine all at once As two different stories that share one ending. The last puzzle piece fitting How could I know that when you came undone perfectly into its forever home. Oneness. that every bit would be so lovely? Less than partners, but more than friends Fear(2) In the end; The second fear comes at the end. I’m grasping to make all of the euphoric We are all human feelings stay…if only for a minute longer. As we lay draped across each other, And honey, it ain’t easy we cry. I cry for the trust. I cry for the love. I cry for the pain. I cry for the But damn communion. I cry for the ecstasy. I cry for fear 1 and fear 2, that this might If you be it. That I need to hold on to it because the door could be locked again and Aren’t still the key shattered. Into a million lost or forgotten pieces. the prettiest thang’

Understanding Time has passed. I feel grateful and appreciative for the experience I have been afforded. I understand that the hardest thing to understand, is the fact that I may never understand. The door may open again and it may not. The gift I take away is a window. Untitled Anonymous Winter Witch Portraits of Veruca la’Piranha by Mousebones

Trust A word that doesn’t do justice to the emotion. I knew when he whispered that he trusted me, a door was opened that had been locked for years. A door for which he is the sole key-holder. Pieces of the key scattered all over his body. A piece in his brain, a piece in his heart, and a final piece lying in his original plumbing. Finding their way to one another in a moment of confidence, hope, expectation, certainty, but above all Trust. A moment I don’t take for granted. I receive this trust and I know what it means to him. I remember how he treated my body as a place he was privileged to enter. I want to return this emotion. This feeling. Selfless appreciation.

Love An abused word that has lost its verbal meaning once it is experienced as an emotional state. In this recount, I use it to describe a touch. When my fingertips remind his body, with everywhere they wander, that all contact is fueled by love. It is the only feeling I want to conjure. It is the only feeling I want to transfer.

Pain When I opened this door, I took on a responsibility. I feel pain from the key, which spent so many years separated. I feel the resentment, the depression, the disconnect that once restricted any and all pleasure. I feel this not because he is exuding such feelings, but because I am taking them. I want to take it all away. I cry. I cry to let go of it as fast as I take it.

Fear (1) The key has been assembled. The door has been opened. Now I face fears of my own. A new personal, non-emotionally triggered responsibility. One that I feel is deserving of recognition and validation. Can I even pleasure him in the physical sense? I haven’t touched anyone this way in years. Honestly, I don’t even attempt pleasuring myself. I have moments of doubt and uncertainty.