Being different

“Empower me to exercise the authority of honesty, and be a participant in the difficult ordinariness of now”  Ted Loder

What makes you different?  We are all different from one another and oftentimes our own differences make us feel isolated from those around us. I know that I can relate to this, especially while living in small cities in Colombia.

Once people hear my foreign accent they soon ask me where I’m from, followed by several other prying questions. I’ve even had people ask to take pictures with me to show others that they met a “gringa.” Here in Colombia, it is my foreignness, my gringo-ness that is the first standout difference that I possess.

The next one that comes up almost immediately is my relationship status. Every man here seems interested in if I have a boyfriend and many women ask this as well. This is a tougher question for me to talk about. I’m gay and so deciding how to answer if I have a boyfriend and why not is not so straightforward. Usually, I just say I’m single and try to leave it at that. Once I do decide to open up to someone and tell them about my sexuality, it’s a make or break moment- I feel much closer to someone after telling them who I am and if they accept me and treat me the same, our relationship moves to another level; however, some people have problems with it and so our relationship breaks apart.

It depends on the person and the situation when and if I talk about my gayness. There have been friends that I’ve told after months of knowing them and I’ve told relative strangers after meeting only an hour prior. Making the decision to tell someone is not just a quick “I’m gay” statement. Questions always follow- many many questions. Sometimes these questions last just for the day and sometimes for months I’ll be answering questions and discussing topics related to gays. For some people, I’m the first lesbian they’ve ever met so I’m the expert to them and therefore it’s my duty to inform them about these strange ways. This task of being a lesbian informant is not a position I always want, but it’s something I must accept to try to help others understand me and others like me.

My third standout difference is that I’m a vegetarian, mostly. I try to only eat veggies, fruits, and legumes. This choice is something people in Colombia have a difficult time understanding, especially in Villavicencio. People ask me about why I’m vegetarian and have a false belief that everyone should eat meat for health. I do my best to explain that I’d rather not eat animals since I don’t need to. I enjoy beans and other protein sources, so there’s no need for me to kill and eat animals. I often see confused faces looking back at me, but I don’t enjoy discussing this in too much detail so I try to keep my answer condensed.

I am not always quick to embrace my differences, my unique, “abnormal” traits, but I’m working on accepting them and being more open about who I am. This is a process and I’m becoming more open each time that I have an honest conversation with someone and feel accepted for being my real, unique self.

Comments to Women

Colombians are much more vocal than Americans. I’ve been called beautiful and fat, I’ve been told I have a strong body and a weak body, people have complimented my short hair and others have strongly urged me to grow it out- these are some of many unwarranted comments I’ve received here these past nine months. These abundant comments about my physical appearance not only express Colombians’ outspokenness, but also illustrate the harsh commentary women face from others, many of whom are other women.

The plastic surgery business is huge in Colombia. There is a constant stream of women entering surgeons’ offices and paying thousands of dollars to “fix” their breasts, butts, and noses. Are these women paying money and altering their natural bodies for themselves or does their dissatisfaction with their bodies come from their experiences in society? Does it steam from viewing television and magazines and unrealistic bodies in the media?

There is a constant policing of women and I can’t help but wonder how often people remark on the appearance of my male friends. Are they regularly told they’re handsome or ugly, fat or weak? Are they shamed by others when they eat two ice creams in a day and asked how they could ever find a spouse with that behavior?

Obviously, this is not just a Colombian problem, it’s a world problem. The comments and policing of women to ensure they look and act a certain way need to stop. We’ve got to stop laughing at the sexist jokes and pushing women to adopt whatever kind of femininity we think they should embrace. Just because I’m a woman doesn’t mean I’ve got to wear high heels and dresses, it does not mean I will wear makeup and, it does not mean I will pay thousands of dollars and take weeks off of work so that I can alter my body to fit the magazine image of a woman.

Moving

“No amount of security is worth the suffering of a mediocre life chained to a routine that has killed your dreams.” Maya Mendoza

My fear is that I will be boring, that the complacency that surrounds me will envelop me and dull my senses to the world around me. Moving helps keep things fresh. I experience a new place, new sites, new people, and a new culture.

Will I eventually settle down in one place? Is that even what I want? I’m not sure, but I know that every year as twelve months roll around, I always feel something tell me that it’s time for me to go, to see new things and try something different. So in the past five years, I’ve lived in three different countries and five different cities. I’ve had a variety of jobs and met people from many places.

Where will I go next and when will that be? These are questions that people constantly ask me, but I don’t have the answer. When that itch inside me gains enough strength to the point where I can no longer ignore it, it takes over and forces me to move again.

For now, I’m trying to enjoy wherever it is I find myself until I pack my bags again and start somewhere new.

So…well…um…I’m gay. How to react when your friend or family member comes out.

The best reaction I got when I came out was no reaction.  During my second year of college, I recall walking with my close friend from the dorms to a party.  I was incredibly nervous walking beside her, wondering how I would tell her my secret.  Even in the brisk evening, my palms started to sweat and chaotic thoughts bounced around my mind.  What exact words should I use to tell her that I was different, that I didn’t like guys?  How would she react?  Would she still be my friend?

We continued to walk and talk about who we liked and she told me about some boy she was interested in.  She mentioned where she met him and described what he looked like.

Then it was my turn.  She turned her head to me and asked if I was interested in anyone.  I took a deep breath and told that there was a girl I liked.  I paused, waiting to see her reaction.  She gave her opinions about the girl and the conversation went on as if nothing of interest had been revealed.  I don’t know if she had previously suspected I was gay or just didn’t care, but our walking conversation never took a pause and never felt awkward.

On the way to the party, as we talked, my friend wrapped her arm around me in a friendly manner, at which point I knew our friendship was unaffected by my sexual orientation.  It was a poignant moment for me when my friend affectionately touched me, as I had worried that she would never want to come near me again, fearful that I might develop a sexual interest in her.

I will never forget the way my friend treated me when I came out to her.  It was a gift that I will always have. It was the first time I truly came out to anyone and it was such a positive and liberating experience to be able to express my sexual orientation openly. This first time made my many other coming outs easier knowing I had a least one friend who did not care about my sexual orientation.

I run, I’m a runner

I run, I’m a runner, and not just for sport. I run in life. I run from people that I’ve had disagreements with; I run from situations that make me uncomfortable.

If there’s a choice between fight and flight, I always choose flight- and I run.

Dealing with conflict is difficult and uncomfortable, but leaving is easy. I can justify my frequent flight by telling people I want to see the world, I want to experience new things, and this is true; however, leaving when things get tough is not really a solution.

Maybe one day I’ll find a place where I want to settle and a person I want to settle with. Maybe one day I’ll decide to work through the muddy times instead of fleeing. For now, I choose to run. I lace up my shoes, tie up my hair, and trot out the door.

Not Just an Object

I am not just an object. This sounds obvious, right? Well here in Colombia, it isn’t. When I go out I usually wear jeans and a t-shirt and avoid wearing anything showing too much skin, such as shorts or tank tops. I want to feel covered because the looks I get make me feel like I am being undressed and abused without my consent. The unwanted male gaze I experience every day makes me upset and angry, and I am unsure how to address the looks and remarks that I and every female unwantedly get. I ignore them so as not to provoke a fight and so that I don’t acknowledge the distasteful words and stares coming towards me. I am not sure why men harass women on the street and what they think they will gain by acting in such a perverted manner, but such rampant machismo turned to harassment leaves a grey cloud over Colombia’s beautiful landscape.

Possessing Possessions

Once we can call something ours it gains value in our eyes. After we purchase something or receive a gift, that thing then is perceived to have more value to us. The problem with this is that nothing is really ours and nothing lasts forever. Every material good will eventually be destroyed- it will fall apart or break, whether or not we are the ones to witness it. Recently a man climbed into my second floor room through the balcony and stole my laptop and cellphone. I was not physically hurt and the only loss I felt was of my two material possessions – my Samsung cellphone of two weeks and my well-loved white MacBook from college. This event made me look deeply within myself and ask why this happened to me. I am still not sure why, but I can say that I have tried to learn from the robbery and I am now less attached to material things. Suffering the loss of my computer, one of my favorite possessions, I realize that every item can be replaced and more money can be made. It is very possible that I will be robbed again and almost certain that I will lose more things in my lifetime. I cannot entirely control these and so I must learn how to continue after such events. Money is just paper and things are just objects, both are replaceable. Moving forward I must be thankful for my health, my supportive family, and the things and people that I do have in my life.

My clock says 2016, my t.v. says Trump is President

So it’s 2016 right? Hang on, let me check.  Yet, it is 2016.

And we just voted for Donald J. Trump to be our next President of the United States? Wait… that can’t be right. WE, the people of the United States of America, just voted to make hate great again? WE voted for misogyny and sexism, racism and homophobia?

I do not understand.  Aren’t WE a country of immigrants? Don’t WE pride ourselves on our diversity, our mix of cultures, and peoples, and languages?

When I saw the results I felt saddened and personally hurt. This vote was not just a vote for a rich, white man; this was a vote for oppression, for bigotry, for hatred; this was a vote against me and against others that I care about. I don’t know what we did to inspire so much hate. Is it the religion we practice? Is it the color of our skin? Is it our sex or our desire to love a person no matter their sex?

I’m not sure what we did to get to this place we are now in-this dark, hateful, depressing world, which we continue to inhabit, but I do know that we’re stuck here, so we need to fight even harder to protect our rights and the rights of those around us.  It is the most vulnerable at risk- the minorities, the undocumented, the low-income people of this nation. We all must stand together and work even harder to ensure that America continues to be a nation where all can have life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.

Today I am not proud to be an American and I don’t feel very free. I know men died to get us here and to fight for liberty, but now I stand up next to you and I express myself today because I have some faith in this land and I ask you to help protect our U.S.A.

 

Opening up at the dentist

The other day I went in for my bi-annual dentist visit.  It was a typical appointment; I waited in the lounge and then got called in to sit on a gray, plastic-covered, reclining chair.  After I sat, the hygienist started to ask me questions: Were there any changes to your health history?  What is your oral hygiene routine?  And then the questions got more personal.  What do you do for a living?  Do you play sports?  As she continued to ask question after question, I felt like I was being attacked, being forced to provide all this information about me without mutual consent, without getting anything in return, so I started to ask questions.  I tried to hit back with appropriate questions, careful not to ask anything too personal.  Once she started to respond and reveal some things about her I already felt more at ease.  It was turning more into a give and take rather than a give-all from my perspective.

It was at this appointment that I realized how difficult it is for me to open up, and especially to open up first.  I do not like to feel vulnerable, and with strangers that aversion to openness is amplified.  But it is important to embrace vulnerability as that is how connection happens, it is the path towards being one’s authentic self.  I know that this is a challenge of mine and an obstacle that I must overcome in order to make friends and be my true self.  I have felt fast connections with other people who were quick to open up to me and such vulnerability also made me want to share details of my life with them.  I have seen the power of openness in bonding individuals together.

Though it is scary and uncomfortable to be the first to talk, the first to reveal personal information, we must take a breath and breathe into that space of discomfort so that greater opening can occur, so that we can move past the points of tension and feel the release that comes after, so that we can be our whole selves, our true selves, open, honest and free.

Twenty-four: an in-between age

Goodbye twenty-three, hello twenty-four.  I am now twenty-four and undeniably older.  So what does this number mean?

I feel old or at least I feel like my being 24 makes me old, but I actually feel like teenager.  I’m at this weird place where I am supposed to be getting my life together, working at a job that sets me up for my career path, dating to find my “soulmate,” and yet in my mind I am still that young, active and fairly naive high-school kid, curious about the world and excited to see more.

I enjoy being around toddling two-year-olds, slowly moving forward one block in twenty minutes time because we are so caught up in the way the green grass moves with the wind and how the tiny ants march along in a line.  We are so engaged in the world we see that there is no room for worry or stress.  I enjoy watching movies with eager eight-year-olds who get caught up in fantastic stories of good and evil, where the biggest threat is some witch who never seems to win the battle.  I enjoy talking with emotional high-school students who always seem to be entangled in a drama, which at the time appears to be the most significant issue they will ever face.

I have lived through these stages in my life and now I am on to a new one- adulthood- where the stress of making money and finding purpose and happiness are real and ever- pressing.  It is nice to revert back to simpler times when we were still discovering the novelty and amazingness of this world and imagining magical places where everyone could live happily ever after; however, I suppose I am now an adult and must zip up my black pants, button up my suit jacket and head to work.  As I do so, I grab for my bag and the stresses and anxieties that fill it, taking on my role as an adult and leaving behind my inner child.