SH.N.N.G.NS Ѫ

People say that I should stop being sensitive, that it’s all in “good fun.” What is fun about degrading another person? Who takes pride in doing that? It’s especially bad when the person is supposedly your friend. Friendships are supposed to encourage and uplift, not degrade and pull down.

I refuse to tolerate someone who enjoys making me the root of their amusement. Find something else to laugh at. Your 1.2 GPA, perhaps.

I’d rather suffer and be miserable than settle for less than what I deserve. I prefer to imagine what things be like eventually than imagine why they are the way they are now. It’s just a better coping mechanism (for me).

But I’m not everyone, and I understand that. Some people crave and demand that feeling of being wanted—no matter who it’s by. Some people throw caution to the wind when someone tickles the fancy they didn’t know existed. That works (for them).

Figure out what you want out of life. Realize your aspirations and prioritizes the necessities. Ignore the advice from others if it doesn’t fit what you forsee. Decide what’s good (for you).

At some point we’ll all cross paths again in one way or another. Maybe we’ll have matured, perhaps for the better or worse. Regrets may exist, as they tend to do, but remember that at the moment it was exactly what you wanted (for us).

It’s mildly humorous to me how people claim not to be homophobic, yet the instant a friend or family member makes their queerness known—this happens.

If you are homophobic, be upfront about it. I respect people who can say straight up, “I don’t like gay people,” over those who claim to love the community but discriminate when someone they know is part of the lot. 

Part of the problem, I believe, is that some people don’t understand what the meaning of homophobia is. They think that homophobes are the folks that kill lesbians and gays, and since they would never kill someone, they’re not homophobic.

The word “homophobia” is similar to “ignorant,” in the sense that people throw it around so much that it’s always thought to be negative even when it isn’t. Granted, homophobia is always negative. But homo-ignorance is not.

Nevertheless, people need to recognize their issues and confront them instead of passing themselves off as supporters until it’s someone they know.

Humans are the most vicious sort of animal. We destroy everything in our paths—each other included. We swear that we are the superior beings of the world. Nothing can stop us.

It is that very reason that I’m glad when natural disasters happen. The causalities are unfortunate, but the event itself serves as a reality check. They remind humans that there is a natural force much greater than us. We tear down forests to build unnecessary things and kill other animals because the don’t value their lives. Natural disasters take that land, and those lives, back.

Humans are not great. We’re weak. Take away all the fancy technology we use to survive and I doubt the species would exist beyond three years—if that. We as a species need not worry so much about the material things. This world has never been ours for the taking, so we need to stop taking and try giving. Maybe then we won’t have a society that fears the destruction of monuments while failing to realize that no one knows what the monument represents.

For my Project 50, I set a goal to end my freshman year of college with a 3.5 (minimum) GPA. For the type of degree I’ll be receiving next year, my GPA lies at 3.38. This is bad and good, I suppose. Bad because I didn’t reach the goal and feel like a failure. Still, it’s I still did reasonably well. I balanced by personal life, academic world, volunteering, and work much better than expected.

I’m satisfied. This past year was easily one of the most mind-opening times of my life. Academically speaking, the classes I took allowed me to both opened and closed doors. I was introduced to concepts of psychology, philosophy, and ethnic ethics that caused me to reevaluate my stance on matters. Realized that having a passion for something doesn’t mean that you need to work in that field. Found that professors are humans, too. And I learned how to perform First Aid and CPR, which is a skill I hope to never need to use. 

The coming year guarantees more growth, and I’m looking forward to it. I’ll be working in a position that grants access to numerous resources for a takeover and provides networking with people who are doing something with themselves. More academically challenging classes shall be conquered. Money shall be saved for top surgery. Degree shall be earned. Excited, I am.

Sexy. Disabled. Clever.

I live to see things like this.

At a conference I attended, during group gatherings someone kept randomly yelling at the most inopportune times. People laughed because they thought the person was doing it on purpose. She wasn’t. She also heard the laughs. Her solution? She got on stage in front of likely 1000 people and said, “I have Tourettes, sorry for the outbursts, fuck you if you have a problem with it.” In nicer words, of course. It was everything.

As of late, it’s similar the the stance I’m considering taking in the physical world. Being (more) bold and speaking up for myself instead of letting people spread rumors and gossip. The best way to cease chatter is to shut folks down.

Since August 2010, I…

Came out to my father. Established who I am. Succeeded in being housed with men. Legally changed name. Danced in public. Adopted pet rats. Struggled with not knowing what career to pursue. Struggled with personal identity. Had an extremely intimate conversation with my father about trans matters. Got over an old friendship. Proved just how bold I can be. Had my first gender therapy session. Discovered I had been outed. Saw Maya Angelou. Started testosterone. Saw Kit Yan. Realize the shade Washingtonians can cast. Flew to San Francisco to see Queen Janet. Attended my first prom (and won a deity). Realized that I have a purpose. Was selected as the 2011-2012 Diversity Services Student Coordinator at my college. Contemplated life a great deal. Evaluated my existence.

And now, almost one year later, I’m better than ever with room to grow.

On Facebook, I am the member of a group designated for men (primarily Black) who are attracted to other men. The group tends to have a variety of conversations going on, with topics ranging from promiscuity to children.

Recently, the topic of gay men dating transgender men was presented. Although I have not disclosed by status, I responded with an explanation on gender identity, gender presentation, and sexual orientation. A few members stated that they wouldn’t date a transgender man, so I questioned their reasons.

One person in particular couldn’t provide a reason other than “just because,” so I pressed him for information in order to help him realize what his actual issue was—a lack of attraction to female bodies. He then sent a message asking if I’m transgender. I’ve begun refusing to answer such questions. He became upset and said he would just assume that I am. I told him that was fine and to assume what he so pleased, as long as he didn’t assume  me to be a mass murderer. At that point he became, as I like to say, in his chest—meaning that he was upset because I wouldn’t be his guinea pig and appease his prying curiosity. I found it to be funny.

Why people so obligated to know the details of my existence remains unknown. What relevancy did that question hold? Furthermore, why is it that if someone stands up for something they must identify that way? Le sigh.

Privileged society seems to enjoy asking questions that are irrelevant and none of their business. They take pride in badgering others for information solely to appease their prying curiosity. A majority of them fail to realize the effect their “innocent questions” have not only on the victim involved, but the population as a whole.

Those who answer said questions only seem to contribute to the problem in many cases. Responding encourages askers to pry into the personal lives of others whenever the feel the need to know some fact or another. The askers then begin to feel as though the askees are obligated to divulge information. When the askees refuses to respond, things are assumed for the so-called less popular/favorable.

I’ve discovered that if the askee continues to refuse to respond, even after assumptions are made, the asker will eventually get in their chest and upset. This has become amusing, so I have discovered a new method to contribute to my madness.

I’ve decided to “politely refuse” to answer certain questions. Such questions include, but are not limited to, ones about gender, gender identity, sexuality, race, social class, and occasionally even small things like height or ableism. Even if I am privileged or “normal” in certain areas, I’m refusing to answer. Not because I am ashamed of any of the above, but because people ask these questions solely to please themselves. Most often, after an answer is had, they either form stereotypes about ones nature or badger for more information. Neither is okay.

Instead of playing along, I’m just going to annoy them the way they annoy me. Two wrongs don’t make a right, but who ever died from not answering a question?

Even though you’re an atheist, have you ever experienced a moment that could be called “religious?” Like an epiphany about the world or complete peace?

I wouldn’t call it a religious event, but I often question the magnificence of the human body. Every organ, tissue, joint, and so forth has a purpose—except, maybe, the appendix—and works with other parts to carry on the process of life. Our thoughts somehow become actions. Our subsconsious occasionally overrides our conscious. We can function without functioning. Fascinating, no?

It’s hard to imagine where the human species started off and how we eventually evolved into such complex beings. At times I believe we were specifically designed, which then begs the question—by whom? And why are we on Earth? Why not Jupiter? Or Pluto (which is still a planet in my mind)? Are we all that exists? If so, why? If not, where are the others? Where did they come from? Why are we separated?

I enjoy contemplating the human species and how we came to be. And at times it makes me wonder if there is a higher power. But wondering is not the same as believing.

Talk about a recent experience that has effected you greatly and how.

Freshman year of college has created quite the memories. Achievements were had, freedom was gained, shells were escaped, friends were made, drama existed, trust was broken, friends were lost, life went on. In short—I experienced a minuscule version of the adult world. And while I could have done without the downs, I appreciate that it all happened.

I am now ready to start a new chapter of my life that puts me one step closer to finishing Book III. Despite what may happen, I just need to remember to look up and tell myself: be patient, love.

It’s interesting how White-focused things are in the world. Not just the media or society in general, but even just the way people speak of things.

I recently completed certification training for First Aid and CPR. The instructor was a man of color, though specifics are unknown. Despite this fact, when he described things they often ignored his very complexion—let alone that of millions on others in the world.

For example, a common description and signal to call emergency services is an altered state of consciousness and whiteness in the face. The obvious fact that a majority of Black people lack the ability to turn white in the face seemed to fly right over his head, as well as the heads of the text authors.

It seems insignificant, and maybe it is. Or maybe it’s not. Subliminal undertones are everything and they are everywhere.