qttopoc

[qttopoc]

#ncod

#ncod #oct11

i wrote this last year but was too shy to share it. i still hesitate about sharing because this isn't my whole narrative, and it isn't the only thing that defines me but it may be the only thing someone online knows about me, and that’s weird. but i share it with the hopes that it affirms the experiences of others <3 

--

five years ago i wrote this (http://qttopoc.tumblr.com/post/33377435830/to-my-loves-qtpocs-and-our-many-lives) after moving back to toronto in pursuit of a queer community where i wasn't one of a handful of people of colour in the crowd. i wrote this after my mom ripped me out of the closet where for years i had been planning to stay until my parents died. i wrote this when my dad wasn't speaking with me. i wrote it for myself, it was what i needed to hear when i was younger.

this is about my own coming out and my relationship to coming out narratives.

for years i had been navigating two homes, scarborough and kingston. running back and forth from one too tight embrace into the arms of one unsure of how to hold me. i had become an expert at navigating multiple lives since i was a child, opening and closing parts of myself as easily as the books i escaped into. learning that adults wanted me to say that things were fine and ok, and that they wouldn't hear me out if they weren't, or hear me just enough to assert that whatever was happening was my fault. 

i gave up on honesty with my parents when i was young enough to learn that the consequences of lying to them were never bad enough to give up the things i got through lying. those things being a sense of freedom, joy in doing things that they would never have given a chance because it wouldn't establish me in a career to put food on the table and a roof over my head, and of course the things that i was forbidden from doing because i was too young/fat/feminine/brown; all the things that helped me feel alive. “do now, beg forgiveness later” was really how i lived. 

i was doing the things most brown girls learn to do to balance the weight of their happiness on one shoulder and their family's on the other, our families' sacrifices for our futures with the futures we dared to dream. and i got really really good at it. 

"lying" about my sexuality then never felt like that big of a deal, it was instinctual. it just made sense that this was something i didn't share in order for me to maintain the relationship that not only fed/clothed/financed my whole life, but that nurtured me, that offered love and consistent care in a yelling out of concern caribbean immigrant parental way, and gave me a connection to my culture and ancestry. but the connection to my ancestry felt foggy my whole life, and as i grew into my queerness, one that was largely shaped in white dominant spaces, it seemed to disappear. 

i felt more and more distant from my family as i was studying in university and dancing with and against my reeducation into white wealthy society that i was socialized to long for and raised to fight to get into but never really allowed to claim. at the time, i couldn't tell you which was more suffocating - my parent's desire to control me or the blanket of faux-polite-swallowing-your-anger-entitled-to-everything culture i was being steeped in.  

when my mom accosted me about being gay, i denied it. she asked again and again and i kept trying to run, searching the corners of the room for a portkey, some slice of magic to help me escape. i couldn't run anymore, the cloak that protected me was no longer invisible. she knew. and she wouldn't let it go. but she couldn't understand, partly because i never gave her the chance to, and neither did most aspects of her life up until that point. her way of thinking was rooted in growing up roman catholic in a colonial trinidad fighting its way into independence. i didn't know how to make sense of my desires to her who had dedicated her life to ensuring my success in a white capitalist society.  

after a tense conversation that ended with her telling me it was me being taken advantage of that causes me to seek relationships with women, i left the room in shock, unsure of what had actually happened. this was never the way i had imagined it. i was still in sitting in disbelief when she stormed into my room demanding to know if i was seeing someone. i said yes. she then asked "she black or she white?" i was too shook to address anything in the moment and conceded by just saying "she's white". she then spat at me "doh forget, yuh not white". and i sat there still stunned and unable to absorb her meaning. 

five years later and i still am struggling to articulate what an indo caribbean diasporic queer identity is. five years later andi am still struggling to connect to that ancestry but i blame my queerness less and less and as i do, their faces become clearer. 

what do we lose when we've been separated from ancestors by forced migration? what happens when we allow sexuality to be devoid of our cultures? when the lens handed to us to understand ourselves is opaque? what would it look it if queerness were reflected in the ocean, in the wind blowing through the fields? what happens when our families are disconnected from their histories and we disconnect from even them in pursuit of ourselves?

national coming out day is always a day i sigh over. i don't want to be reminded of my coming out story. i don't want coming out to be the narrative that defines sexuality. but i get that it can feel like a huge deal to so many of us, because it feels like the moment we are really seen, that we can be our authentic selves, that we can stop hiding. but i know now that it's not me who is hiding, that it's this culture that erases my presence. 

how do we create space for everyone's journey without centring one experience of it that may or may not be relevant? how do we support folks to connect to themselves and their ancestors and histories on their journey? 

to me, queerness in its essence is autonomy, in love, in definition, in pursuit of ourselves. autonomy granting us what we need to show up for ourself and others. and sometimes that's choosing our families before us and sometimes that's choosing us before our families. and sometimes that's getting our knowledge about our histories from our own rituals, from chosen fam, from the internet. and the stories about how bipoc people come to ourselves in that is vital, and the choices we make and sacrifices we endure are never captured fully in these narratives. 

until the day we don’t need to come out, i will still share this letter to you my loves.

[qttopoc]

queer liberation ?

i’ve yet to be as brave as i felt when i made that first post weeks ago. tonight i’m gonna try.

it’s been quite a month. i started my fellowship, witnessed a lot of powerful qtibpoc art, gained a whole class of comrades, and am engaging in this long distance non-monogamous intentional love. i feel so connected to myself that outside of writing, i feel like i’m challenging me in ways i maybe haven’t ever. to be present. to be vulnerable. to hold others and myself. to challenge insecurity. to step up. it’s an exciting time, and yet i still struggle writing about it hahaha. but we know, that’s ok.

there have been a lot of phenomenal workshops, moments, conversations, and art that it’s hard to know where to begin. but i’ll just talk about tonight for now.

tonight we had a dinner talk on queer liberation & working class struggles, featuring two qpoc organizers. and it’s been so long since i’ve been in queer space that holds both my life/love/experiences as a queer indo-caribbean diasporic person, and my raging desires and needs to act on politics within a community. i have a lot of amazing qtibpoc folks in my life at home, but i don't have a political home in toronto. 

i have artists, and academics, and educators, and resilient fucking queer and trans people around me who struggle through racism and anti-racism. but we do it alone, and in moments together. and we survive, and help each other when we can, but we don’t collectively destroy or build and i know there’s a lot of legit reasons behind that. 

and i’ve had folks to destroy and sometimes rebuild with in the past, but they were mostly white folks who inevitably didn’t take responsibility for the ways they harmed me, and the ways they failed to move beyond anti-racist theory into practice in our actual relationships. #tokenization #whitemasculinityisfragile #lolanarchists

but tonight. tonight was so refreshing. to share, to strategize, to dream: together. below are some notes i took from the speakers around some different topics we flowed through in many conversations, so it’s a bit scattered but i thought folks may appreciate some of the knowledge shared.

salima h spoke about how often when we come into politics, there is an idea or theory that we feel explains everything. like our whole lives make more sense, and it kind of excites you, and it can feel like if we do or follow this then everything can be different. and how that often also leads itself to masculine militant ideas of what is politically right, so that we then try to convince everyone else that they’re wrong and we’re right. but that’s not reality. and that’s not queer liberation.

“queerness as a model lets others define their own happiness, and we accept it”. 

folks wondered why is it we see so many queer and trans folks at the forefront of every movement for social change, and sam j thought perhaps it’s because as queer and trans people of colour, we live at the intersections. we see things that others can’t from their vantage. and we are everywhere. he also spoke about marriage and rights not being the end game of queer liberation in the ways the mainstream LGBT movement here wants us to believe, and not in the ways internationally some folks look to the west for direction on. but that queer liberation could be gender self-determination and sovereignty, without fear of violence, amongst so many other things. access to housing and jobs, income, body autonomy, varying relationship styles and experiences. whatever it is, salima felt that queer creativity and diversity will be the keys to liberation.  

with all the hubbub around #lovewins, we of course had to talk marriage. sam reminded us that the roots of marriage are in land theft from indigenous communities, in denying slaves humanity, in colonial legacies of gender norms/binaries, and patriarchal ownership over women. these are the roots of marriage that folks are fighting to preserve, and it’s not a fight we have to engage in or one that everyone wants. salima added that in reality, for queer and trans people, it’s really most of the other relationships that often keep us going, not romantic ones. our friendships are our long term partnerships, and they are there throughout everything and yet we’re not taught to celebrate them. salima also highlighted that marriage often actually serves to isolate us from our communities and as an extension, from organizing, so really, it’s not surprising that the state in the end would support this. 

we moved through so many hard things. violence towards us, towards indigenous women, black women, trans and gender non conforming people. holding space for remembering who is not here and how we came to be here.

through this we also got to talking about self and collective care. about love and rage. and how they often come from the same place. rage is life-affirming. it reminds us that we are alive, but it is also about survival, about preserving, and perseverance. it’s about love. for ourselves and our communities. and how solidarity can be just doing things for each other that aren’t about the work but about keeping each other alive in sometimes these small but vital ways, like a phonecall, dinner, a drink. we also talked about skillsharing, articulating needs, sharing material wealth, to make the spirits and wellbeing of others the priority of the collective. not just self-, but collective care.

for me, it all came back to what possibilities queer liberation could offer. and it’s about fluidity, as love and politic. to allow for multiple solutions, ideas, existences, and worlds, not just one. “queerness offers a variety of existences that cannot be contained within one idea” salima said, which led sam to share the zapatista phrase “the world we want is one where many worlds fit”. love is multitudinous, not one directional. 

and with that i come back to what has been driving me throughout this past month and for all the years of my life that i’ve been doing organizing. the root is really love. not romantic love in a traditional sense, but a love for myself, for my community, for my friends, for the ways we exist and dream and fight and dance. i think half the time i don’t write because i don’t want to admit the cheesy things that go through my head, but really, this summer so far has been about exploring the depths of those loves for me, and to see how much more i can expand. 

will try to write again soon. thx for reading.

xxoo

[qttopoc]

new things.

it’s been so long since i’ve sat down to write. to explore what’s going on inside my head and heart. and i really miss it.

to me, writing privately or publicly always felt like a release. it was space to process events and how i felt affected by them. most often i wrote out of sorrow and anger. it also felt like such a direct contrast to the writing i couldn't do for school.

i got so caught up in the academia game where i felt like i could never win that i just stopped writing. my writing was never going to get me the kinds of marks i saw my mostly white, wealthy, peers pulling out. it all felt like such a joke. sure, you can sit in a class, read a book and write a theoretic essay about power structures, get a good grade, pat yourself on the back and move on. for me, it took so much painstaking emotional energy to do that, to be writing about my life, or the lives of other POC that i felt so confused and conflicted about doing it in the first place. but even then when i sat down to write, i kept deleting. 

it didn't sound perfect. it wasn’t a 90. it didn’t feel authentic. it was inaccessible. 

so i stopped writing. 

even in my creative writing it took so long to get to a place where i wouldn’t just delete whatever i started saying. sometimes it’s still a struggle. to be relevant, clever, engaging, new, and sometimes it feels the hardest to be ‘politically correct’.

not in the annoying liberal language way. but in the way that i’ve seen people attack and dispose of each other over that those liberals make fun of us for. and the ways we don’t give ourselves any forgiveness or compassion for mistakes.

but how do we get to a place of having good politics if we can’t have the conversations to get us there? when we’re so afraid to speak about how we feel or ask questions that we aren't talking at all? 

it’s easy to have a perfect politic in theory when you’re not actually engaging with anyone or doing any work to allow you to fuck up. 

with that in mind, i’m challenging myself to write more this summer. 

i’m doing an organizing fellowship away from home, my fam, love, and friends. i’m here to learn and expand and build my capacity so i can bring all that home for some real work.

so this tumblr is gonna be a space to....

- document my experiences  - share the knowledge i’m gaining - process it all - be challenged about it - value myself and my experiences 

all for now <3

xo

[qttopoc]

to my loves, qtpocs and our many lives.

I write this today for you. You who has not yet uttered the words "I am me. I am queer. I am trans. I am brown. I am me. I am wonderful." You who has not admitted or dared to let yourself think past possibility because reality is just too fucked up.

Because letting yourself think or believe that it's real means having to deal with it. Having to reconcile who and how your heart loves with the colour of your skin, the legacy of culture and the impossibility of "coming out".

I write this to let you know that your life and love are real. That regardless of whether or not you say it out loud, you are authentic, are true, are beautiful in all of your complication. I want you to know that "coming out" isn't a right of passage, it's not something we all have the luxury of doing, and whether or not you do it a million times or never, you're still gay. And not more or less gay than anyone else. Don't let them make you think otherwise. And you're not alone. You are here, in our histories, your story is echoed in ancestors and legend way before the words "coming out" even existed. Before we were stolen and packaged, murdered and sold, we were us. We spoke our languages and had words for our love and our bodies that weren't bound in judgement or hatred, we were celebrated. We were equal. We were loved and we were hella cute. I want you to remember this. Remember it when you are at the dinner table and overcome by guilt and anxiety. When you are picked on at school for being "too white". When people mutter or yell transphobic racist things at you. When you are kicked out of your house or your family won't speak to you. When you run away. When you finally find clothes that fit you. When you have to hide them. When you can't afford them. When people dismiss and deny you. When you fall in love and try to run from it. When you meet another brown queer/trans kid and can't talk to them. When you finally do. When white queers push you out of their dances and don't see you and don't want you. When you can't get out of bed and don't understand why. When you learn the difference between intimacy and objectification. When you need to stay silent to protect yourself.

Remember.

Remember that I see you.

Remember that you are desired. Trust me. You are.

Remember that you deserve support and love .

Remember that you are queer and trans and brown and fly as hell.

Remember that you are powerful and it's okay to not always feel that way. 

Remember that you can lead multiple lives and it's not lying. Your life at work and at home and at school and with friends and at temple and at church and when you're alone are all real and true. And you are queer and brown and trans and beautiful in ALL of them even if people can't know or see.

Remember that you know what's best for you. You know what you need. You know how to survive.

Remember that seeking support is something you're entitled to and that it comes in many different forms and that the internet is just as valid as irl. Remember that support is necessary and can go both ways. 

We QTPOcs are resilient fucking survivors. So I just want to remind you on this day that you don't need to come out, you can if you want to, and if it happens, you will live through it. You will find and create and imagine the spaces you need so that you can be your-self. And you will find us there just as I find myself in you.