Filed under: Uncategorized — laughingteresa @ 9:02 am
Recently I started salsa dancing every Sunday at a studio in La Mesa. I absolutely love it, it’s one of the funnest things I’ve done and every week I look forward to going and learning more. The steps, the turning, the movements, they’re so seductive and rich, but also so fucking sexist. The entire dance is inherently extremly sexist just by the nature of the fact that there is a “leader” and a “follower” and that men play the role of the leader and women the role of the following. Of course, this is a part of many dance forms and so many people just shrug their shoulders and say it’s no big deal, but it is! It makes me angry. My ideal form of salsa would be two people coming together and mutually agreeing on who is going to be the leader and who is going to be the follower, as having that dynamic is very important. I think next week I am going to request that I be the male part and learn how to do both just to stand up and make a point, even if only to myself.
And so, I find myself in a conundrum. Who am I to change the history of salsa dance? And I recognize that there is a great deal about the history I do not know, reasons why the dynamic is the way it is and there IS a since of partnership in the dance, in that the follower has to hold up a certain degree of resistance to be able to follow the lead of the leader. And so, I am open to discussion and more than willing to retrack all of these statements if proven wrong, if shown that salsa is not a sexist dance. But yet, the practice is still there in the way I am being taught and it leads me to ask myself, “how do I partake in a dance that I think is sexist and still feel proud of myself?” Is it enough to say that I think it’s fun? Is it naive to hope that I can learn salsa well enough to be able to continue the rise of gender nuetral dancing?
To make the whole situation worse, last Sunday my teacher used an analogy to teach all of us some basics of the dance that was so insulting and sexist that my mouth dropped to the ground and I found myself stepping back, unable to stand up and say, “what the fuck!?” His analogy was that the woman is like a car, like a beautiful red sports car. She needs to be low to the ground like a sports car to have the speed and agility to freely move. She needs to not be wound up too tight, but also not too loose. Her hands are the steering wheel that the guy needs to turn. The guy needs to tell the woman where he wants her to go, like driving a beautiful red corvette. I am not exaggerating! I understand the analogy that our hands are the turn signals and the leader cannot move then around crazy like because the leader uses their hands to tell the follower which direction is coming up soon. I get that analogy, but that analogy does not insinuate that either person is a fucking car! My friend says I should tell him how upset his comments made me, but of course, I’m afraid of the confrontation and have 4 more classes already paid for, so I’m back to the conundrum. How do I participate in such a sexist practice that I just happen to be in love with? :D
So lately I’ve been fighting a new fight. This fight is part personal, part public. For the past few years, I’ve wanted to stop shaving. I remember my first partner asking my why I shaved and I gave some sort of defensive answer about how I enjoyed it and only did it for me. She reminded me that I didn’t have to shave and that she thought I was beautiful either way. From that moment on, I questioned my choice to shave. Was it for me? It started out with my pubic area. To shave or not to shave and I went both ways. I tried shaving everything off (which totally freaked me out, I like my hair down there damnit! I don’t want to look like a 8 year old girl) and have also refused to shave anything. In the end, I found a happy medium that suited me. But my desire still wasn’t satisfied. I continued to look at women who didn’t shave with such envy and admiration. How I longed to be so free, to not care what others thought as I raised my hand in class to expose an armpit full of hair. Every time I tried to stop shaving, I would soon start to feel insecure, wondering if people thought I was dirty, a fear that stems back my childhood, and eventually I would decide that I had enough self esteem issues without needing to throw more on the table and would start shaving again. And over the years, every time I heard a comment about how gross not shaving is, I simply shrunk back further and further.
But finally, enough was enough. I want to be able to say I shave because I do it for me, because there is some reason that I want to shave and not because we are programmed to believe the sexist notion that women are dirty or gross if we choose not to shave. I came to realize that I am angry. I am angry at our society for making me feel as if my right to not shave makes me be seen as less sexy, less feminine, or less attractive in the eyes of the majority of the people. And so, I threw out my razors and have been free from shaving for the past month. It’s been a struggle. Taking a salsa dance class and twisting around, baring my new lovely hair, brought up a whole mess of insecurities. It forces me into a space of constantly questioning how others are perceiving me. And that makes me angry! But I refuse to be part of such a sexist, cruel, unforgiving establishment. And slowly, I’ve started to build up pride and love for my hair. I am beginning to enjoy the natural scent of my body, to appreciate the way it looks and feels and to start reevaluating how I view my own beauty. It’s not an easy fight, but it’s one I’m feeling very proud of.
Filed under: Uncategorized — laughingteresa @ 2:33 am
Vaginas have been on my mind lately. It started when I went to PantheaCon last weekend and went to a Yoni portrait workshop where I made a collage of my vagina. It was such a rewarding and reflecting moment. And to look around the room and see so many other beautiful woman loving their bodies and reflecting on the greatness that is their cunt, was simply an amazing moment! And in the end, I was in love. In love with the all of the amazing vaginas, just ready to dance and sing! My entire weekend was about self love and honoring my body.
And then tonight, I drove to Irvine to see lovely Ms. Guava’s directorial debut of The Vagina Monologues and I fell in love with vaginas all over again. Many times the performances brought me to tears and I was ecstatic to finally get to see the transgendered monologue. For years, I’ve been upset that that monologue is not often in the performances, as I think it opens people’s eyes to a whole different community that is often not included with the traditional vagina empowerment movement. And so, it brought me to tears. I was also in love with their dance number and was happy to see that they had incorporated that into the piece. I was very pleased with UCI’s entire production and was happy that they spent so much time focusing on trying to get the audience to understand the necessity to not just shrug and leave the messages of the show at the door, but to share your knowledge with every friend, family member and stranger.
I strongly believe in the V-Day movement and am proud for all fo the beautiful men and women who have stood up to fight to end violence against all women. I am going to start holding Vagina Empowerment Craft Days at my house, and perhaps at a local Sex Shop. I am hoping to provide a space where people can come and talk about their experiences, their feelings, the politicals, the fights, and the appreciation of Vaginas! I’m excited about the idea as I haven’t really seen many of these workshops being done around here and I for one, would like to see more of them. Let me know if anyone has any clever names for the workshops.
If you haven’t check out the V-Day website at: www.vday.org and find a local performance of The Vagina Monologues as it will change your life!
I wrote this last May and have performed it a few times. It’s a better piece performed than written, but I wanted to put it out there in the momentum of Towanda.
—–
Looking around the room, judgments in my head. Voices telling me no, no, no, don’t go. Don’t step out of your box, don’t think about taking once single step. You’re not good enough. Too ugly, too fat, helpless, weak, hopeless, unlovable, unintellectual, untouchable. Never good enough. Give up, don’t even try, you’re not welcome.
Whose voices are these? Are they mine, do I really believe that? At the bottom of my heart, deep in my soul, do I really believe all those cruel words being thrown at me?
FUCK NO. Those are the words of my mother. That is the voice of my father. Pushing me down, tearing me apart. Not letting me be free, grow, see, be me. But I am not them. I may have come from them, but I am not them. I am me. Beautiful, strong. creative, charismatic, loving, lovable.
I have broken free. And today I believe in the words of my lovers, of my best friends, and of this voice deep inside. The part me that has never left. Here all along, to tell me in my times of weakness that I am. I AM STRONG. Do you hear me? I AM STRONG. I have no need to answer to you. I have found my way, my love, my strength.
Filed under: Uncategorized — laughingteresa @ 11:11 am
Just a quick post about something that is making me feel very inspiredtoday! Last night while I was making some delicious vegan pot pie (recipe from the lovely Ms. Guava), Guava and I were talking about crafting and life. And as per usual, I started to feel really inspired. So many times I have all of these wonderful ideas, but they seem so big and grand that I end up feeling overwhelmed and don’t follow through. This blog is a perfect example. I write blogs everyday in my head, but I feel so overwhelmed with wanting to post pictures and such that I end up avoiding it. But lately, things have been changing. I’ve been taking more and more things in my life one step at a time and miracously, things are easier (who whould have thunk it! *lol*). And so Ms. Guava and I were talking about our dream to create our crafting/vegan/sex empire and we began to discuss the importance of starting small, of just doing something. Perhaps it won’t be a store yet, but perhaps it can be an etsy store and then perhaps a crafting group at our respective homes. Something, anything!! And this morning I came online and saw Guava’s latest blog, which was an idea that I had originally used and she had expanded on, turning it into a beautiful piece of art! And it just reminded me of one more reason why we’re friends. And so, here is to taking it one step at a time and loving every minute of the journey!
I think it’s sad that many peeople in the LGBT community don’t really know about Harvey Milk. I, myself, didn’t know anything about him until last year when I was told about the “Twinkie defense”. And because of this, I am very thankful for the movie MILK for I think it will educate so many people about a figure who was so important to our history. And I think the movie did an excellent job of portraying Harvey Milk’s story. And in this time, when we feel as if doors are being slammed in our faces with the passing of Prop 8, I think the movie provides a lot of much needed hope.
In September, The Advocate (a magazine I in general do not like) listed their Top 40 Greatest Gay Heroes and they listed Ellen DeGeneres as #1. I was really annoyed when I saw this because don’t get me wrong, I love Ellen, I think she’s a funny lady, but I don’t think she deserves to be listed as the #1 Greatest LGBT Hero. Put her on the list, but please, don’t list her #1! I’m happy to see an LGBT person in the mainstream media and I think that she is putting a face to the LGBT community that people need to see in order to overcome their prejudices. She is definitly an important figure in the community right now; however, I also think that she plays it safe. She makes statements about LGBT issues, but they feel so reserved, as if she’s holding so much back. I think she’s afraid to loose her daytime audience and she she chooses to not say as much or do as much as I’d like to see such a popular figure do. I don’t expect her to use her talk show was a political forum, but I do wish she would do a little more, get a little more political or if not, I wish people would stop holding her up so high on a pedestal.
Because the real heroes are the people in the front lines, the people holding up the pickets signs and screaming for equality. The real heros are the politcians who aren’t afraid to stand up for civil rights, even if it means they might loose some votes. Harvey Milk was a hero. And I think the LGBT community needs that. In the U.S. we have Cesear Chavez Day and Martin Luther King Day, why not Harvey Milk Day? In February 22, 2008, a bill was introduced that would proclaim May 22 each year as Harvey Milk Day. The bill stopped short of seeking a state holiday but requested that we annually observe Milk’s birthday in the same way that John Muir is honored now. It passed the Assembly with a 45-23 vote and then passed in the Senate with a 22-13 votes to later by vetoed by Governer Schwarzenegger on September 30th.
When I look at the arguments for this bill, I see that the main fear regarding it was children. People did not want the schools to recognize such a day because they did not want “such a lifestyle choice” to be viewed as normal as it might corrupt children in the public schools, introducing them to “the gay agenda”. This does not surprise me as it is the same arguements being used for Prop 8. In a forum I participated in on November 5th someone brought up the really good point that Prop 8 would not have passed on it’s own. They opposition needed to illicite the fear of churches loosing their nonprofit status and children being taught homosexuality in school, in order to scare people into voting Yes. And so the vetoing of this bill does not shock me, but is absolutely insulting. Harvey Milk wasn’t trying to turn people into homosexuals, he was trying to assure that gay people received the same protections and rights given to all American citizens. I believe that Milk is a symbol of of civil rights activism and a role model of the LGBT youth who may face intolerance themselves. And how are we suppose to create the new LGBT heroes unless our community recognizes and remembers the heroes before us? Eventually I’d like to see more queer heroes of color and more queer women heroes, but how are we suppose to do that unless we give our youth figures to look up to?
And so, my friend and I are going to start celebrating Harvey Milk Day on May 22. We’re going to encourage as many people as we can to acknowledge the day. It took almost 20 years for Martin Luther King Day to officially be recognized. Perhaps it’ll take 40 years for Harvey Milk Day to be recognized, but this year, it’ll be celebrated by me.
This election tore my heart out. Tuesday night I sat in my room, crying beautiful tears of joy for Obama because for the first time, I really did feel empowered and hopeful for our country. I don’t often feel patriotic, we do too many fucked up things for me to often let down my cynical guard. I understand the privilege of living in the U.S., especially within the communities I’ve been lucky enough to be involved with, mostly groups of college students who have the freedom to question more than so many others have, but when I see such hypocrisy in what we claim to stand for and what we actually do stand for, I get angry. But as Obama spoke, I did feel this sense of hope that I had not previously known. I noticed in a blog a friend wrote: “note to those still living under the messiah complex: though he never came out in favor of 8, obama did come out against gay marriage. not to say that i am not glad to see him as president, but please take him down a notch and hold him accountable.” I totally agree with this statement and I am very critical of Obama, as I am of all politicians who know how to appeal to the masses. But even with that statement, I wanted to believe him on Tuesday night, I wanted to stand there and hold up some hope for our future, I wanted to believe it when he said, “yes we can.” Okay, that was really cheesy, but I was totally enamored.
And then I woke up on Wednesday. And it was as if someone had taken all of that hope and smashed it. I couldn’t stop crying and I mean, uncontrollable crying. How can the same people who have had the sense to elect Obama so cruely discriminate to take away LGBT rights? It took a lot of processing for me to be able to even step out the front door. Luckily, my co-workers and supervisor are totally amazing supportive people and my supervisor not only told me that I could go to UCSD for a discussion the LGBTRC was hold, but she told me I didn’t have to come back if I felt too upset. Yes, I have a pretty sweet work situation going on. Being amongst family helped a great deal, but even then, I was only mildly able to juggle all of the emotions I was feeling.
And then I noticed some comments on some old high school friend’s facebook and I immediately reacted. I got angry and deleted them as a friend (it sound so silly now), but not after I told them what an ignorant jerk he was being. And then I started crying. Because I was just soooo angry. I later went back and apologized for not having given him a voice or space to speak and reacting so violently, but he never responded back and the hurt still remained, less because some random person I barely know voted Yes, but also because my own parents voted yes, even after my pleas. On top of this, my current issue was with something that had been building up over a long period of time for me: a general uncomfortability with religion.
Here is a letter I wrote to an amazing friend who is a devoted Christian activist that sort of outlines the issue: “To give some background, I was raised in a very non-communicative home where God was never mentioned. I guess you could consider my parents agnostic. Basically, the idea of religion or faith was never accepted in my house. I was not allowed to go to church with my friends, but I was also never talked to about religion, about why they held the views they held or even given a choice of my own. So growing up, I was pretty anti-religion while being pretty naive about the world on a whole or even understanding what my “views” meant. As I got into college, I just couldn’t comprehend what having faith even meant, but as I’ve changed, I’ve began to re-examine those views, to try to have a greater understanding of what it means for people to have faith. And in that, began to question my own faith, to try to let down my own guards in replace of some compassion and understanding. But in the past few months, it’s been hard. It’s hard to hear God being used against queer people, to hear these extremists views and not feel angry at religion as a whole, as my parents have always taught be to be. But as I struggle with my feelings of Prop 8 passing, of trying to understand how 52% of voters can support such discrimination, I want to not turn towards anger or blame. I do not want to be part of a group of people who are marginalizing people of faith and blaming that passing of Prop 8 on religion. But I also have a hard time setting aside my own prejudices.
When I posted up my latest status report trying to find some answers, a friend’s response was that I should love my friends no matter what their political or religious beliefs are. But the problem is, I don’t know how to do that when it comes to this topic. I mean, this isn’t like having a friend with a different party affiliation than mine or even a different view on God. But in this case, it’s my civil rights, it’s my freedom for equality, it’s my life and my fundamental rights that are being taken away from me. And I just don’t know how to handle that, how to balance this anger I feel with compassion and understanding for other people’s views. I can accept that not all people of faith agree with the passing of Prop 8 and begin to set my past aside and work towards a more accepting, open view within myself, but how do I face someone who has directly supported the same law that has taken away my basic rights? I don’t know how to do this. Have you had to face this question within your own community? I hope it’s okay to even be asking this question. And I hope I haven’t insulted you in any way. I am just searching for…something.”
He responded to this letter with some really interesting point of views, about his own issue with struggling with prejudice in his own community, and in the end reminded me that not all religious people are alike, just like not all Queer people are alike. And it reminded me of the importance of not fighting against each other right now. While others are blaming people of color, here I was blaming religion, throwing all of religion in the garbage as being the cause of such hatred, but of course, that wasn’t true. Too much I am hearing people putting blame on others and I understand why. We don’t know what to do with our anger, but more, now than ever, it is important for us to stand together, as a community, not divided, fighting over who said what. Today I heard someone on the talk radio blaming Elton John for not making a stance as a gay male. Really? Should all of this go on the shoulders of Elton John? Traci said is beautifully when she said, “It scares me to hear us as a community point fingers at other historically disenfranchised and persecuted minority groups. The disenfranchised must band together! The marginalized must gather along the edges until we force our way through the center! This is the only way! We won’t be able to win this fight by pointing out our differences, creating enemy lines, and blaming those which we can, through common understanding, make allies!” And she is so right.
This past weekend I was part of the San Diego protest against Prop 8 and while I saw a lot of anger and hatred there, I also saw a greater deal of love and community. It was an amazing event to be at and it made me feel even more determined than ever to not sit on the sidelines. Here in San Diego we had 20,000-25,000 people, by far the largest gathering of any city in the nation. Just to be in the middle of that energy was amazing. Here in SD we started at Balboa Parke and walked the 2.5 miles to City Hall where we had a rally and they gave us all colored poster paper and had places for us to stand in order to create a human rainbow flag. The environmentalist part of me was annoyed by the waste of paper, but I knew the impact that human flag could have, knowing that someone sitting at home in Lakeside or Jamul might see that and feel empowered to make a stance they may not have previously taken. Or at least, this was my hope.
Here’s a beautiful picture of the human rainbow flag we made at the rally on Saturday.
In other news, I’m happy that the Supreme Court will hear the Prop 8 challenge and I’m ready to stand together and fight for what’s right. Also, here’s a pretty cool clip that I found inspiring.
I haven’t blogged in, wow, over a month, not because I haven’t had a lot going on but because I’ve been not in the best of places. Even though in that time my birthday has passed (and I had a great time thanks to all my loved ones), with the passing of Prop 8 and just the pressure of everyday life, I’ve been struggling. And since no one actually reads this blog, I haven’t seen the point. But then today I logged into my computer at work and check Lady Guava’s blog, like I do every morning and found myself tagged. And since I still owe this sweet lady my failed quiche story, I figure the least I can do is fulfill this game of tag.
Link the person that tagged you and post the rules on your blog.
Share 7 random and/or weird facts about yourself.
Tag 7 random people at the end of your post and include links.
Let each person know that they’ve been tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.
1. I compusivly wash my hands and feet and will not go to bed with dirty feet (unless I absolutely have to).
2. Until I was nine we did not have electricity. We had a generator we could run a few hours in the evening and for special needs and we had an outhouse outside painted with a moon and star on it.
3. I had a really bad speech impediment as a kid and had to go to years of speech therapy. Occasionally people will ask me where my accent is from. I always want to tell them it’s from some exotic location.
4. I love the smell of my vagina. No seriously, I love it.
5. I once played naked marco polo in the dark with walkie talkies in a movie theater late at night when I lived in Indiana.
6. I have participated in a large lesbian orgy in a pagan temple. Scandalous, I know.
7. I want to own a dog of my own sooooooooo bad.
And that’s all I got for the day, my boss just came in, so it’s time to go.
Last night I went with a friend to a concert for her birthday. The artist was Catie Curtis, a beautiful queer acoustic musician from Boston, who made me laugh, smile and cry.
You should check her out @ catiecurtis.com. She reminds me a lot of Norah Jones, KT Tunstall and Regina Spektor. Her music seems a little safe for me and it’s not always what I’m in the mood for, but her lyrics make me happy. They seem very real, not trying to be anything they’re not. On her website, she has a cool radio feature where you can listen to bunches of her song. And if you ever get a chance, you should see her, she has the sweetest personality and it’s always good to support talented musicians.
Who is Towanda? My friends know the name as the name of my car, but Towanda is much more than the bumper sticker on the back of my car.
I started using the name Towanda in high school after a few too many viewing of “Fried Green Tomatoes”. At the time, I used it as an alter-ego name, something silly to shout out as my friends and I drove down the windy roads of my rural hometown, laughing and enjoying our youth. Years later, I was at a metaphysical bookstore when I came across this bumper sticker. I laughed with glee and proudly gave my car it’s first bumper sticker and later, her name.
But as my life has progressed down many windy, sometimes bumpy roads, Towanda has come to mean something far greater than I’ve realized until recently.
To me Towanda is my friend Traci, a powerful and vibrant woman who teaches me every day to love myself deeper than I ever realized was possible. To me Towanda is my friend Sam, who embodies the soul of someone far beyond her years. Someone who doesn’t let others tell her she can’t do something. Someone who fights for what she believes in. Towanda is my sister Courtney who has overcome so much pain in her life and in turn pours her love into 4 beautiful children, hoping to give them the childhood she only dreamed of. Towanda is Eve Ensler, a woman who bares her soul to show others in oder to let them know that they are not alone, someone who fights some of the worst fights in this world. Towanda is my friend Matthew, whose beautiful voice reminds me of the beauty in life. Whose hugs encourage me to do great things. Towanda is Kira, the gentle, sweet soul, who on her own journey, opens her heart to those around. Towanda is an activist, a vagina warrior, a feminist, a fighter, a believer, a singer, a lover. Towanda is the part of all of us, that loves unconditionally, who believes in change and growth, that part of ourselves that will run against the same wall a thousand times and never give up, knowing that one day, that wall CAN be broken. Towanda is the fist raising, fuck-you-I’m-not-taking-your-bullshit-today warrior that we all have within. Towanda is the best parts of me. Towanda is far more than my altar ego. In my darkest days, I find her, always waiting, arms open, ready to cradle me as a mother cradles her crying child. I am Towanda, now and forever.
