The Diversity Projekt
Empowerment for All People of Color
Whose Curves Are You Talking About
When did Curve Mag start representing only a limited segment of lesbians/queer women? Femininity seems to be the order of the day, since it appears that the rest of the gender spectrum has been kicked to the curb. When did this happen? Have I been living under a rock? Quite likely, given my schedule as of late.
The Medic recently voiced her disgust over the recent Curve issue, but I could have never imagined how disturbing the issue was until she pulled it out of her bag last weekend. Not that the whole A-Spot article in January’s edition was pathetic enough, but March’s issue takes the cake! (Yeah, I finally learned how to use that saying!)
Now, I know that I am about to rant on a lesbian institution, but give me a minute! On to what has me grumbling! –> Page 11 – “This Is What A Lesbian Looks Like”
Interesting choice of words! I am thankful that not all lesbians look like this! While I dig femmes being represented and getting a shout out, I am baffled at how limited the reflection of queer women are in these pages. The most recent article about female Olympians took the approach of toning down their masculine edge. (link forthcoming)
I remain baffled at this overwhelming fear of anything even remotely in the butch camp. Kinda ironic given their founder and publisher, no? I am the first to applaud femme empowerment, but am also keenly aware and appreciative that lesbians and other queer-identified women come in many wonderful shapes and sizes and colors. Curve should be taking it upon itself to make policy about what a lesbian does or doesn’t, should or shouldn’t look like. Just sayin!
Does Curve really want to be the new Cosmo? If I want to read Cosmo…..I will read Cosmo. Curve was always my go-to mag for its pulse on the lesbian community. Apparently that ship has sailed.
The bottom line…I no longer feel represented in the pages of Curve! Not visually, culturally, socially, or intellectually. Not even a little bit. As a queer woman of color I feel very much invisible within the lesbian community to begin with. I expect mainstream society to balk at me, to accuse me of misleading people into assuming I am straight, to question my orientation because, according to them, I don’t fit the part. I can take that on. It barely hurts anymore. I have grown a tougher skin.
However, the sting is sharper from within our community. I know not everything is about me! I do try to tell myself that from time to time. However, I surely am not the only other queer woman of color out there who feels under-represented (or not at all) within the covers of LGBT mags. When the “best selling lesbian magazine” claims to have its finger on the pulse of the lesbian community (as if it is some monolith) and then cherry picks which narratives to reflect the lesbian experience, it makes a statement of what they view is truly reflective of the community.
Just sayin……
Finding Work Life Balance
I work a lot. I probably work way too much. When I took my current position (more than a year ago at this point) I put in crazy hours. Those hours weren’t a phase but a constant in my life – early mornings, late nights, weekends, taking work home, you know the drill. In addition to working I was heavily involved with various other initiatives – BGCS, SwirlPhilly, etc.. Over the last year many of those things were pushed off of my plate. Ok full stop – I pushed them off of my plate. I have to take some ownership of this. I don’t think it was intentionally. I was already invested in the mission of the agency I worked before I ever accepted the offer to join their staff. It definitely intensified when I came on board. I don’t regret it for a second.Nevertheless, I think I lost a part of my identity independent of where I worked. Everything sort of blended together and I lost sight of where one ended and the other began. Perhaps I became too invested. Is that even possible? This is not to say that being as invested and committed to our mission is a bad thing, but rather that a lot of other things I was/am passionate about went to the wayside. I really miss them and want to get connected again.
I have been feeling very lost lately and I think it has to do with a lot of lack of balance in my life. I am not engaging in enough activities that bring me joy personally. I know we often talk about professional and personal realms blending in the non profit world, that it seems to be a natural occurance, but I am not sure if that is at all healthy. I think there needs to be boundary. Otherwise, burnout is a surity!
I miss dancing. I keep wanting to get back into a dancing groove. I took a class on Saturday. The Medic and I went out Saturday night to Brasil’s. While I am not going to make class tonight, I am going to make it a point to go Saturday mornings. The dance schedule has completely shifted at Estilo, so I am going to have to go back to check which classes are being offered when.
I miss blogging with a mission. I am blogging with an outdated mission. Or perhaps I have drifted from the mission and just need to re-focus. The lifeblogging component has always been there, but it has definitely moved to the forefront over the last few months. Perhaps I am overthinking this, but I feel like the TDP brand is no longer clearly visible. Perhaps it really is time for a complete shift. I don’t know. I need to sit with this for a bit.
I miss my Swirl family. I need to recharge our local chapter. I have been so busy with everything else that SwirlPhilly sort of driftet off of that proverbial plate of mine. I am going to reach out to all of the local members this weekend and set up socials for March, April and May, as well as a planning meeting. I hope to recruit one or two more individuals who are interested in serving as part of the leadership team.
While work remains demanding and I am committed as ever to being a part of the agency’s long-term success, I also need to take more time to ensure my personal and professional success beyond the agency. I realize there are only 24 hours in the day – much to my shagrin – and if I ease up on work hours only to fill my plate with other things, I am going to end up with the same result…burnout.
So, balance! There are many things I want to return to doing,but for now, dancing, blogging and SwirlPhilly are on my agenda.
Do you find that your work and personal blend in together? How have you set boundaries in your life to attain and/or maintain balance?
Intentions and Dimensions of Belonging
Anyone who has been around TDP for a while, knows that I struggle a lot with finding a real, meaningful sense of community. I don’t always feel like I belong. I’ve always felt not quite a part of, floating on the margins. I am transnational – German and American. I am a military kid. These things complicate how the world seems me and how I perceive that I fit into the world. My family is no exception to that. I look different than the rest of my family. They are white. I am not. Although we rarely if ever speak of the elephant in the room, there is no denying that. TDP’s recent crisis of identity has a lot to do with my not wanting to hurt my family, nor do I want to alienate them through my words. Nevertheless, I can only speak to my experiences growing up and how they have and continue to impact my quest for self. Their perceptions of certain events often differ from mine. That doesn’t make either of our experiences more or less valid. I think sometimes parents don’t want to see certain things and I think children often process events and experiences differently. The lenses through which we view the world are often very different.How I see myself within my own family is no exception. Aesthetics are the most obvious. I knew that I didn’t look like my parents or sister from a young age. The elephant in the room was glaring to everyone including my family, but no one really talked about it more than one or two times. This had a profound impact on my identify formation, my sense of self. For good or bad, I have grown comfortable living in-between various worlds. While I share many of the same values as my family, an ideological divide has grown over the years. I am queer and left leaning (hell, I am almost horizontal). We have different ideas about fairness, justice, race, class, gender,…..privilege. My mother often dismisses my positions by making some sort of generation/age statement….as if my almost 30 years on the planet haven’t given me the right to form equally valued opinions about the world around me. Again….different does not equate to of more or lesser value.
My bi-cultural, transnational identity is probably the most complicated and murky of my interlocking identities. Depending on which site of the ocean I am standing on (or with whom I am speaking), I am either too German or too American. The notion that both can co-exist equally at the same time seems unfathomable to some, even to me at times. I often feel myself pressured to choose, or even more painful, having to defend one or the other. I am equally protective and defensive (and apologetic) about both. Perhaps it wasn’t just me that was different, but my entire family. I always felt that it was much easier for my sister to fit into both worlds, despite her linguistic barrier. People are less likely to challenge her German-ness. Clearly I don’t fit the image of a stereotypical German. It has taken me a long time to begin to come to terms with my mixed-race identity. It’s something I struggle with today.
It is disappointing that while I feel a part of several communities that are dear to me, I am most affected by the communities (and people) who have rejected me. I am not sure if my bio-father disappearing constitutes his rejecting me. I am not exactly sure what happened back then. Nevertheless, his current behavior definitely feels like rejection. How can you know that your child is out there (and know how how to find her), yet make absolutely no effort to connect? How can you have more regard for the children of the women you date than for those you have a biological connection to? Can you sense my anger? I realize that DNA isn’t enough to build a true foundation on, but it should be enough for some kind of meaningful contact…..a card maybe?! I hate to admit it but, he has caused more upheaval and trauma in my life over the last 2 years than in the previous 28.
I don’t really believe in new years resolutions. Every new day is an opportunity for re-birth and change. Nevertheless, as I am turning 30 this year, I did set a few goals for myself. Instead of focusing on where I feel like I don’t belong, I want to make more of an effort to accept the many ways I am valued and accepted in my life. Although it may not seem overtly obvious all the time, I am a part of several meaningful and vital communities. Although I am from the other side of the Atlantic, I feel very much apart of the Black German community here in America. I identify more with their alienation than the alienation of my cohorts in Germany. Although it is complicated, I am certainly more accepted here.
I feel extremely blessed to be part of the Swirl family. It’s one of the only communities in my life where I don’t feel pressure to identify or define myself. In fact, I am not sure if any of us have actually asked each other the million dollar question – “What are you?” It is such a relief to just be accepted, regardless of my “makeup”. I have the opportunity to help other mixed-folk feel good about their diversity – creating a community that I did not have growing up. I want mixed-kids to develop a positive self-image and feel proud of their mixed heritage.
As of late I also feel very strongly connected to “my” butch-femme community. I say “my” bf community because I am not sure if there is one bf community per se. It’s a community of my own choosing, woven together not necessarily by geography but by shared values, ethics and mutual respect and adoration. While I have been femme as long as I can remember, this community aspect of my life is new and I haven’t really wrapped my mind around it sufficiently. So stay tuned as there is definitely more to come on this. Nevertheless, I think it represents a powerful model for community formation. It’s intentional, organic, and profoundly life-altering. I can’t wake up tomorrow and choose not to be American or German. I am not saying that I want to stop being one or the other. That’s not the point that I am coming to. However, the expectations, pressures, stereotypes and preconceived notions that come along with those identities are not of my own making. It has taken me years to feel empowered as a mixed-chick. Mind you, I say mixed chick…..not as German or American. I find beauty and joy in my mixedness. It’s the only way I actually make sense, how the world makes sense to me. The journey through which I came to consciousness about my mixed identity was very intentional and organic. Hmm, perhaps that is what it is all about.
New (somewhat scary) Territory
I am going to keep this somewhat short and sweet, because if I muse about this for too long its just going to snowball into more than it is or should be. We all know that I overthink things, so this is an exercise in just getting my thoughts out without beating a dead horse (too much). I rarely every write about this. I sure as hell never post these thoughts here. However, since I am giving into this new lifeblogging identity,
I had a realization this weekend. I’ve always been in relationships where I have settled – settled for less than I deserve, for people who were wrong for me for many reasons, and most profoundly, settled for people who settled for me and never failed to remind me of it. While I have moved beyond much of that baggage, sometimes insecurities still comes up. I’ve learned to keep said baggage in check, but nevertheless…..yeah!
Despite some violent stomach issues this weekend I got quite a bit of work done on cleaning up the back end of TDP, including cleaning out my draft folder and lots of thinking about future blog posts. I also found some quiet time for reflection. Actually, a light bulb went off. I realized that for the first time in my life I am in a relationship where neither of us are settling, where I don’t feel like second best, like I am the “right now” girl. It took my breath away. Things are so different with the Medic. Although I sometimes let my insecurities get the best of me, feeling and knowing that I am right where I am supposed to be puts those feelings in check. I feel extremely loved and valued and cherished. I really can’t even begin to find words to describe how I feel.
Anyway…that is all! I am off to bed. Until next time!
Lessons Learned…or something like that!
One of my favorite movies is The Holiday! It has all of the ingredients that makes for a good Hollywood love story, especially a holiday love story. You have the Playboy (Jude Law), the Goofball (Jack Black), the Heartbroken Girl Next Door (Kate Winslet), and the Beautiful Success Producer (Cameron Diaz). Two women, jilted by love in their own unique way, trade homes for the Holidays, only to find love half way around the world.
Of course there was the happy ending, but not until after the conflict. What is the conflict, you ask? Well, that’s complicated. You have a dash of unrequited love and testosterone inspired head games, but in the end the biggest hurdle is the distance, at least for the Playboy and the Producer. The Playboy lives outside of London with his two girls (his wife died a few years ago) and the Producer lives in LA. Neither of them travel to each other’s city. They are at an empass. Although the movie has an extremely happy, mushy ending, you never learn how they deal with their distance.When I first saw that movie I said to myself “I will never ever date someone long distance.” It had always been my line in the sand relationship wise. The only reason I even considered dating Dawn was because had applied to Rice before we got together. I would have been in Houston anyway. However, when I decided on Villanova, I ended things with her. I wasn’t negotiating. Little did I know that I would meet someone who captured my heart and turn my world upside down to such an extent that I would rethink my position on long distance. I actually never gave the distance a thought. I knew from the first conversation that the distance was temporary. I didn’t know who would move or when or how, but I knew that we would work through it.
Nevertheless, I have had to learn to process a whole host of emotions unique to long distance relationships, or maybe they are just unique to me. I have never missed anyone before, at least not someone I have dated. I am learning how to balance missing the Medic while not coming off to needy. I am not sure how much I succeed at this, but it is a work in progress. I have learned to listen more and talk less. Yes, this is a challenge for me in general, but long distance requires a while different set of communication skills that I didn’t really posses in the past.
Patience. I am not a patient person. I gave up working on that years ago. Instant gratification is highly under rated (kinda like nap time). The last 20 days have been challenging. I know people have been doing long distance for years, see each other once every month or two. I am pretty aware of what I can and can’t do and, that would be right at the top of my list. Ok, so back to my point – 20 days is way too long to not see the Medic. So, we are working on an every other weekend kind of deal. The Medic’s schedule is far more flexible than mine, but I am working things out. I may be able to work remotely on more occasions. I am still trying to figure that one out. I know that I am not a patient person but I am extremely intentional about what this transition means for the Medic. Cryptic, right?!
Vulnerability. I sometimes find myself completely incapable of communicating how I feel. What’s at the heart of this? Feeling vulnerable – I’m not good at it. Well, that isn’t completely true. I am better at certain aspects than others. While I can allow myself to be physically vulnerable with the Medic, being emotionally vulnerable is a whole other issue. I was mortified when I burst into tears in front of her during a visit to the Tundra. Perhaps that is the German part of me. All the messy stuff is to be kept behind closed doors – the crying, the self-doubt, the chaos. I am not saying that I am stone cold or that I don’t allow for the bringing down of walls. I share many of my layers with the Medic, but it has been a process. I’ve let down a lot of walls. I am not sure if it would have been so natural to do so if we had been living in the same city from the beginning. I think that I would have probably asked for more space. Not that I am totally sold on won over to the idea of long distance, but there are some benefits. Like the extent to which you get to know someone, beyond the surface. You have to cut through all of that, all the niceties and reach to the core of a person. Otherwise I think you would lose interest fast if things remain shallow.
I feel like I am completely off from where I set out to take this post. I am not sure if I have an actual point. I started it when I was having a moment. I hit my threshold of how long I could be separated from the Medic. I didn’t want to seem too needy, so I began to write. I hate being or seeming needy. Or is it admitting that I need her? I’ve never really felt like I needed someone in my life. Is there really a difference? All I can say is that I am working on it.
Protected: Kathrin in a Candystore!
Philly Salsa Community United for Haiti!!
So I am sitting here in my warm apartment tonight contemplating the last time I was out dancing – Brasil’s, Cuba Libre, The Reef…anything. It has been weeks.
I am in full winter hibernation mode.
It never fails. I get this way every year after the holidays. After all of the commotion of the Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Years, I hit a lull. I become a complete homebody.
Can I just say that the timing is bad this year. I have dance rehearsal twice a week for April’s Estilo performance. I haven’t kept to my standard weekly dance schedule since I went home to Jax for Christmas.
Salsa is my therapy. The Medic can attest to how much I wig out when I don’t get my fix. Nevertheless, the power of hibernation has won over for the last few months.
I am back into the swing of things as of tomorrow night:
- Tues, 630pm-730pm salsa
- Thurs, 630pm-930pm salsa/bachata
- Fri, 9pm Brasil’s or Cuba Libre
- Saturday, 1030am-230pm rehearsal and salsa
- Saturday, 9pm Brasil’s
- Sunday, 1-3pm dance rehearsal
Speaking of dancing….if you like salsa, bachata, merengue, etc. and want to make a difference in the lives of Hatians who have been impacted by the earthquake, check out an upcoming event at Brazil’s:
Date: Thursday, Feb. 11th
Time: 9pm-2am
Location: Brasil’s Nightclub
(112 Chestnut St. Phila., PA)
Join Us As Our Salsa Community Unites! Here’s your chance to help those affected by the recent events in Haiti, all while doing what you love to do most!DJs United: DJ Jay Rockwell, DJ La Clave, DJ Jose Rodriguez, DJ Jose Maldoado; Salsa Lesson by: Vikki Woods & “Big” George Dennis; Also Featuring Great Raffles and Special Live Performances!
All DJ’s and Instructors have donated their time for this event and 100% of the proceeds will go to the relief effort on behalf of the Salsa community.
Admission: Requested $10 donation (The beneficiary chosen is the American Red Cross). YOUR DONATION DOUBLED!!! Jones New York has generously agreed to match any donations made from our fundraiser, so whatever you can give, it will be doubled!
Jeans & Shoe Donations Needed! We will also be accepting new and gently worn jeans and shoes for the people in Haiti the night of the fundraiser.
More info on Charity Organizations and their help with Haiti:
American Red Cross
Soles4Souls
Teens For Jeans
(Aéropostale Store will donate one brand new pair of jeans for every pair of donated jeans!)
Really, it is that scary!
Welcome to Kathrin’s somewhat bumpy trip down memory lane of traumatic needle episodes!
Trypanophobia – an irrational and often intense fear of hypodermic needles or injections – though it is often incorrectly called belonephobia, a name which simply denotes fear of pins or needles, without referring to the medical aspects.
Blood, sweat and tears….literally! Being within 50 feet of a needle puts me into a panic. Just thinking about them sends my pulse through the roof.
The back story is quite complicated, made murky as I only remember bits and pieces, so bear with me. I think much of it stems back to when I was 8 or 9 years old. My dad and I used to go to this military clinic in Germany every couple of months for testing. I don’t remember specifically why I was having the tests done, but it had something to do with my bone structure. The reason really isn’t pertinent to the story. Every time was traumatic, but the very last appointment took the cake. I remember the lab tech continually missing my vein. I remember my dad getting angry. I remember being hysterical. I remember my dad yelling. I remember the look on the lab techs face. I remember leaving. And…that’s all she wrote! Since then I have had major issues with needles. Ok, well…full stop! I remember getting my tonsils out when I was 6 or 7 and wanting to go home with the IV still in my hand. It was a huge to do for them to touch by hand. Full blown fit ensued!
My phobia grew from there. Most doctors and dentists that I have encountered since then have been patronizing, condescending and quite impatient with me. Some of them told me to suck it up, to act my age even. None of that has been extremely helpful in managing my phobia let alone helping me move beyond it.
Several years ago I thought about addressing this issue in therapy. I initially started therapy because of The Ex. Talking to someone helped me begin to see how damaging that relationship was and ultimately helped me cope (and not react) when she pulled her final power play. After several months it felt like I was moving on, so I decided to use my therapy time wisely. We had some initially discussions about my fear of needles. I remember the day I began to tell her the back story and her response….”this doesn’t make you a whip…it makes you a special needs patient.” Well…the walls went up and that was all she wrote! Being characterized a special needs patient felt worse than being considered a wimp…at least in my mind.
I ended up researching this phobia even after I stopped going to therapy. I am a combination of associative and resistive, save for the fact that I don’t have any violent responses to needles. Flight yes, fight no! I am not really sure what exactly I am afraid of. I am not afraid of pain per se (well we shall revisit this in another post). I can deal with immunizations and injections. I dealt with Depo several yrs ago to regulate my cycle. I can even psych myself up for the dentist. However, IVS and giving blood…hot mess!
I finally got up the nerve to schedule my annual exam WITH labs. A lot of recent discussions motivates me to finally take that step. I rarely ever avoid my annual check up, but the lab component has always been more complicated. So, I did the bravest thing I knew how….I scheduled it for when the Medic is in town. I already thought about what excuse I could come up with to get out of it. I know the Medic won’t let me, but still….the thought crossed my mind! How the hell do I get out of this?!
So here is the question – do I want her to hold my hand or if possible, do I want her to do it? I have no relationship or track record with a lab tech at my doctors office (since I haven’t had blood work done in four years…maybe more), so that is going to make me nervous. So, who I trust more is a given. However, if she is doing it, then she can’t hold my hand. Yeah the rational part of me thinks this thought process is absolutely absurd!
Thoughs?
Square Peg, Round Hole
I have been that girl before! Everyone knows her or has been her before. You know, the one who gets into a relationship and disappears into a vacuum, into the new relationship black hole. I knew it was unhealthy each and every time. I knew that things would end badly (even though things often ended for very different reasons but the disappearing act contributed to the dissolution), but I made the choice anyway. I probably owe some amends, as none of my friends deserved to be treated like that – good enough to hang out with when I was single but expendable when I was coupled. That’s definitely not the message I wanted to send, yet its what I did over and over again.
I always felt – subconsciously – that I was compensating for something that was lacking in the relationship. There wasn’t enough or right form of communication, or honesty, or depth of understanding, or laughter…the list goes on and on. So, if there wasn’t enough of all those things, then we were going to spend every waking, non working moment together. Perhaps my past partners also sensed something was missing as their choice was often quantity over quality time as well. The controlling and abusive relationship not withstanding – most of my relationships were of this sort. While I was always non-committal at first, each one built into entities with little substance despite the amount of ‘together time’. Nevertheless, I often made the choice to invest time in a relationship that was never going to work. I knew it was never going to work, yet giving up just didn’t seem like a viable option. It’s like forcing a square peg into a round hole…..just not going to happen! Someone’s going to break something!
I’ve come to realize that it isn’t a matter of giving up or not. Rather, it has everything to do with being in a relationship that is mutually fulfilling, balanced and thereby healthy. Relationships, while requiring investment from both parties, really shouldn’t always be hard or require painstaking effort to make it feel right. In hind sight, I’d argue that if it doesn’t feel right, then it probably isn’t. Yeah, 20/20 is a beautiful thing, isn’t it? Thankfully I learned this long before the Medic came into the picture.
Speaking of the Medic – one of the things I cherish about our time together is our sense of balance. We almost spend as much time with friends and doing every-day things as we steal private time to just enjoy each other. Nothing is forced or…ok, sometimes getting out of bed requires an extensive amount of motivation, but nothing about us is forced. It just works – we fit. The logistical dysfunction – distance – has helped (or forced us, depending on how you see it) us focus on quality over quantity.
I must admit though that no matter how much I embrace the “absence makes the heart grow fonder” thing, I know that I am not wired for long distance relationships. Yet, trusting her (and myself), the dimensions of communication we have developed and the temporariness of it all keep me from wigging. Oh, and have I mentioned that I am ridiculously in love with her? Yeah…
Protected: BDSM Meme….you won’t see this again
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