Longing

I am intimately familiar with the feeling called longing

Intense, sharp, caustic need

the kind that chews a hole inside your chest

like a shot of novocain, a burn and a sting

I only ever longed for freedom

burning my hands over a steaming pot

the future stretching out before me

strangled by the sameness and monotony

longing like bile in my throat

gagging, choking, my stomach in knots

fight or flight, but i could do neither

twelve years old and living in my own coffin

need is dangerous

if you acknowledge it, it demands to be satisfied

and when you can’t deliver

longing will tear.you.apart.

with sharp, curved claws

longing tore it’s way through my lungs

i stopped breathing for 6 years

those talons tore divots in my baby skin

I chased after freedom even as my lips were turning blue

flat on my belly, crawling with my fingernails

this longing is brutal

it will kill you before it will be ignored

every year i long for Fall

every fall i’d turn one year closer to freedom

it was fall when I broke away and started running

fall is a clean cold slate against fevered skin

the longing for freedom is part of being human

it’s right beneath your skin

a hungry monster you will never escape

I’d advise you to embrace it before it eats you alive

(originally published on my Tumblr)

Progress: As Seen In My Morning Routine

I wake up.

My room is a little bit messy.

I have learned that there is no need to berate myself for not folding my socks before they go into the drawer. Skipping laundry day does not make me a bad person.

I stumble into the bathroom wearing boxers and a star wars t-shirt.

I am not obligated to wear sexy lingerie and nightgowns to bed. I am not obligated to wear underwear designed for women. I am only obligated to wear what makes me feel comfortable.

I brush my teeth and wash my face and I DON’T weigh myself.

There is no scale in my bathroom. I have learned that my health is measured by how I feel, and my worth isn’t measured at all.

I rub styling paste into my short, boyish hair and stand it straight up.

My hair is not my crown of glory. My hair is not a symbol of my relationship with a deity. My hair does not hide the roundness of my face or accentuate my femininity. My hair is just hair. And it makes me feel free and powerful and I think its sexy as hell. And that’s all that matters.

I slap on a swatch of winged eyeliner.

I don’t care what it “says” about me. I just like how it makes my eyes look greener. It’s not for you. It’s for me.

I get dressed.

Dress pants from the men’s section of Banana republic. A flattening sports bra. A button up, tucked in. A grey cardigan. Wide, flat stud earrings. My clothes make me feel confident, and they reflect me very accurately. I am masculine and feminine rolled into one. I am me. I am different. And that’s okay.

I eat breakfast.

Fruit and toast with almond spread. I am a vegan. Respecting nature is important to me. This is a personal moral decision, and it doesn’t mean that I am foolish, or arrogant like I was taught. Living vegan makes me feel honest and compassionate, and that’s a good enough reason.

I kiss my Hunnie goodbye on my way out the door.

I’m off to work an 8 hour day. I bring home the bacon, and that doesn’t make me less of a woman any more than it makes him less of a man.

On the way to work, I call to make an appointment with my Doctor.

I’m getting a  hormonal birth control implant in my arm, because I don’t want to get pregnant. Not now, maybe never, and that’s okay. My value is not defined by my willingness or ability to give birth. My family is not defined by how many children we have.

Feminist, queer person, agnostic, vegan, student, nerd, employee, blogger, singer, activist; these labels fit me, but they don’t define me. I am Sarah, and I am more than the sum of my parts. I am free, and I am finally learning what it means to be happy.

Self

I am a member of the family
I am a member of the housework crew
I am my parent’s possession
I am their trophy
I am a representative for Christ
I am a future mother in a future family preparing to serve a future husband

I am not an individual.

Feelings are superfluous, needs are selfishness, I do not know the vocabulary of self.

I am depressed overly dramatic
I am hungry gluttonous
I am tired and overworked lazy
I am sick weak
I have anxiety lack faith
I need affirmation whine too much
I need privacy am selfish
I need to be respected punished

I do not deserve to have needs.

So I take tweezers and tear a blade out of my father’s razor. And I keep the razor in a tiny jewelry box that my grandma gave me, under the cotton, because nobody can see it, because using it is selfish, and I am ashamed. But nothing compares to the relief of sliding the blade across the soft parts of my thighs, my calves, my ankles, my wrists.

Simultaneously punishing myself and expressing my hurt.

People deserve love
people deserve support
people deserve respect
But I don’t know these things

 Because I am not an individual
I am not a person
I do not know the vocabulary of self.



(I wrote this post as an entry for the Homeschoolers Anonymous blog. You can see the Original Post here)

Skirts Make Me Uncomfortable

I work at a tax firm, so I'm basically way too busy this time of year to be blogging. But I've been feeling very fashionable this week and I wanted to share pictures with somebody. Photo posts are so lazy, but I don't really have time for much else!

This is my outfit from Wednesday of this week. Just ignore the fact that I'm clearly standing in the bathroom at work, and also ignore the fact that I'm taking pictures of myself in the mirror. I was feeling extremely uncomfortable and traumatized all day, and I'm positive it was because of the skirt.

This is me on Thursday, suddenly feeling confident and comfortable in a pair of dress pants and a cardigan. It's amazing how much better I felt that day. 

Anybody from a Fundy background like me knows how frustrating clothes can be. I feel like I never had a chance to discover my style, and I have all these random insecurities and paranoia when it comes to getting dressed.

 "OMG what will happen if I lift my arms up? Someone might see my midrif!"

"Relax"

"Can't wear this, you can see a bra strap"

"Is it acceptable to wear pants this tight?"

"What is normal?"

"Forget it. I give up. I'll just stay in the house all day. Better yet, I'll stay in bed all day."

I've had to force myself to put aside my fears and focus on what I want and what makes me feel good. Those are both major no-no's for a Fundie girl, but those days are behind me now. This last year has been an adventure in self discover and self acceptance, and I think I'm finally starting to enjoy it.

This is me today. We do casual Friday at my office. I'm feeling awesome in my sweater from the men's section of H & M. I painted my nails green and I'm wearing neon orange socks under my boots, because they make me happy and remind me that it's okay to be me. Today is a good day. :)

Has anyone else experienced skirt-PTSD? Have you guys struggled to find your style or accept your body? What is your version of "Neon Orange Socks?"

Through The Eyes of the Privileged

Like most Americans, I spent Sunday night watching the NFL Super Bowl. I was not surprised by the blatant and gratuitous sexism (and occasional racism) in the infamous Super Bowl commercials. I was expecting to see some breasts selling Budweiser and some pole dancing to advertise a show. Women were exploited, marginalized, and objectified in almost every commercial, just as I expected. Sexism is alive and well. I joined many others on twitter by calling out the sexism with the Miss Representation tag of #NotBuyingIt. We used social media to call on companies to end their sexist campaigns and stop perpetuating the obvious issue.

I honestly don’t know why I was so surprised by what happened next.

I was attacked. My inboxes and my cell phone lit up with snarky, sarcastic, and downright hateful messages. All of them were from middle class, white, cisgendered, heterosexual males. “You’re a hypocrite for not calling out the commercials that make men look dumb!”
“Women have more privileges than men, feminism is just reverse sexism!”
“Why are you always complaining about women having it rough? You can do whatever you want in America if you just work hard enough!”
“What, no comment about the taco bell commercial making old people look bad?” “Everybody’s life is rough, you people need get over it!”

I could go on.

I have gone from disbelief, to fury, to bewilderment. Maybe I’ve been out of the Fundie bubble for too long, but are there really still this many people who don’t believe that sexism and racism exist? I mean there are FACTS out there, people. 37% of African American children and 34% of Hispanic children live below the poverty limit, compared to 12% of white children. Women are still making only 75% of what a man makes in the same job. Despite major growth in minority college enrollment, Hispanic and African American highschool seniors are still significantly less likely to be able to attend college than their white peers. The list goes on and on. You do not have to look far to see the glaringly obvious inequalities in our society. And yet so many people choose willful ignorance.

As a cisgendered, white woman married to a man, I am well aware of my privilege. Because I happened to fall in love with a man, I was able to get married without any problem. This allowed me to get enough financial aid to attend college.  Unemployment statistics, evidence of workplace racism, and stories like this one would suggest that my skin color made me more likely to be hired. I am also less likely to be the target of hate crimes than say, a trans woman or an African American teenager. I know this. I do everything I can to educate myself on the difficulties faced by my fellow human beings, and I stand up against inequalities wherever I see them with passion and empathy.

This is why I don’t understand the garbage in my inbox. Are all of these guys just completely uneducated on the issues of racism, sexism, heterosexism, etc? Do I need to lend them a few biographies written by someone in a minority demographic? Did they fall asleep in history class and miss the parts where we wouldn’t let women vote? Where we trafficked in human flesh for over 50 years after the civil war? Where we displaced, raped, and murdered thousands of Native Americans? 

 Are they sincerely ignorant like I and my fellow former-fundies used to be? Or are these guys so high on their cloud of privilege that they can’t see destructive inequalities and discrimination that define the reality of so many millions of people?

Dear Diary: Body Images

I was browsing through my childhood diary again this week and I came across this gem. I drew this when  I was 11 years old. It is clear from the picture that my perception of beauty was already twisted. 

The red head with curly hair and a curvy frame was deemed "ugly" and the extremely thin girl with straight hair and giant lips is "almost prity." Imagine my horror as I grew up into a body similar to that of my "ugly" redheaded drawing.

Fundimentalist doctrine teaches that a woman's body is somthing to be ashamed of and hidden. It teaches that womanhood is synonymous with frailty and china-doll perfection. I believe that fundamentalist doctrine devastates a girl's ability to love and respect her body. 

I also found it ironic that the "ugly" one is wearing an apron. I mean if she's not attractive enough to get a man with her looks, she'd better be able to cook or she's basically worthless. Ugh.

Dear Diary: Fundamentalism Through the Eyes of a Child

I don't know about you, but sometimes I feel guilty for leaving fundamentalism  It's not logical obviously, but somewhere deep down I still have this built in self-doubt. "It wasn't that bad," I tell myself, "you're exaggerating " I think about the things I've written on my blog and wonder if maybe I've somehow made them all up. Maybe my memories are flawed, maybe I'm victimizing myself.

In one of these moments of self-doubt, I turned to my childhood journal for affirmation. What I found startled me even more than my memories. Every page is swimming with self-hatred. Half the journal entries read like a suicide note. It's horrifying.

Fundamentalism teaches children that they are sinners. It teaches them to deny themselves, despise their needs, sterilize their personality, and strangle their sexuality. It teaches girls that they are stupid, insignificant, and purposeless without a man. The things you believe about yourself during your formative years shape the way you think, feel, and behave for the rest of your life. Nothing can be more crippling than self-hatred.

To illustrate how deeply fundamentalism destroys a child's self-worth, I am considering publishing some of the entries from my childhood/teenage journals. This will not be a commentary on my family or the things that happened in my home. It will be a glimpse into the mind and heart of a little girl who believed she did not deserve to live. My hope would be that people will see the dangers of fundamentalist Christianity and think twice about the things they teach (or allow to be thought) to their children.

Would anyone find this helpful or interesting? Would you be interested in sharing bits from your childhood journal to add to the illustration?

UPDATE: Many people experienced similar self-hatred stemming from psychological abuse that was not necessarily religious in nature. I welcome journal entries from those children as well as they offer a clear example of how religious fundamentalism is a form of psychological abuse.

Anti-Birth Control or Anti-Women?

During my engagement, my fiancé and I received a call from another young couple we knew. They had been married for about 5 years and already had 4 small children. I had mentioned in a previous conversation that I was considering some kind of IUD to prevent pregnancy for our first year of marriage, so I was not surprised when they revealed that they wanted to talk to us about birth control. “Any birth control besides a barrier method is basically an abortion” they told us. “We will come visit you tonight (it was a 15 hour drive) if you’re really serious about using BC, we feel that strongly about it.”

I took their passionate response as a sign from God: birth control is murder. They gave me the same argument I grew up hearing, but in more detail. If you haven’t heard the argument, it goes something like this: Birth control pills work by thinning the lining of the uterus. If your birth control fails to prevent ovulation (this happens in 2-10% of cases) and an egg becomes fertilized, the uterus will reject the egg, thus causing the “baby” to die and be expelled from the body. The argument continues by saying that millions of babies are murdered by birth control every year.

Some of you may have seen this video circulating on the Internet. It’s the one that claims birth control is responsible for adultery, homosexuality, divorce, murder, and a slew of other “evils.” I won’t even begin to address the dozens of lies and misleading statistics in the video. I just want to address the issue at the core of the anti-birth control. Namely, that birth control is murder.

  

Now, this whole position is ridiculous if you don’t believe that a zygote is a baby. Most people hear the anti-birth control argument and shrug it off. There are some, however, that believe life begins at conception. For those people, hormonal birth control seems to be completely out of the question. However, the anti-birth control crowd leaves out one very important fact: a woman’s body naturally rejects at least 18% of fertilized eggs. This means that if you have unprotected sex that leads to the fertilization of an egg (30% chance or successful fertilization), the resulting zygote has an 18% chance of being rejected by the uterus. The human body naturally performs “abortions” almost 20% of the time. So does taking birth control actually increase the chances of zygote abortion, or does birth control actually reduce the chances of this occurring? Let’s do the math.

Without Birth Control:

Out of 100 fertile women on birth control, 100 of them will ovulate in any given month.

Out of those 100 released eggs, 33 will become fertilized.

Out of those 33, 18% will be rejected by the uterus.

In a group of 100 women not on birth control: 6 zygotes will “die”

With Birth Control:

Out of 100 fertile women on birth control, around 6 of them will ovulate in any given month.

Out of those 6 released eggs, only 2 will become fertilized.

Out of those 2, 100% will be rejected by the uterus.

In a group of 100 women on birth control: 2 zygotes will “die”

So let’s get this straight, taking birth control makes a woman’s body LESS likely to dispel fertilized eggs. If you believe that life begins at conception, shouldn’t it be your moral duty to reduce the number of zygote “abortions?” If you believe that a zygote is a human, you actually kill more babies by refusing to take birth control.

How has such a massive flaw gone unnoticed all this time? Did anti-birth control advocates really just “miss” these obvious facts, or could it be that they like the result of this misconception? Denying women rights to their own reproduction is the oldest weapon in the war on women. Even if you believe that a zygote deserves the same rights as a full grown human, there is still no reason to oppose birth control other than to control women.

 I don’t know about you, but I’ve had enough of the “personhood” smokescreen. Let’s call the anti-birth control message by its real name: anti-woman.

Thoughts on Church

I know a lady who was always very deeply involved in her church. She poured her heart and soul into everything she did and was a huge blessing on the congregation. However, because she is a woman, many people were offended by her leadership. There were many issues that arose over the years, but eventually she was pushed out of the church she had been serving for many many years. She recently told me that she has stopped going to church all together. I asked her why, and her answer was both moving and thought provoking. I’ll share her letter below.

Why I don’t attend Church.

First, I was deeply hurt by things that happened at [my old church.] especially the last month. [The pastor] did and said some pretty horrible things to me. I still don't know if he was angry because I was leaving or what was going on. He did apologize to me last year for those last few things, but not for lying to me and about me for all those years.

Second, as I was just taking a break I began to examine what was going on inside of me. I started teaching Sunday School when I was 16 and I worked or volunteered in a church somewhere for the next 34 years without a break. I've done pretty much everything that can be done in a church. And for the most part, I loved it and I was good at the tasks.

However, as the days without church went on, I felt such an utter sense of quietness and peace come over me. So much tension went out of my heart and mind and body. I realized that working in the church has been such a huge source of inner turmoil for me. I have never liked church. I'm not a social person, I could be a hermit and not miss anyone.

However, I know God wanted me ministering to people with my gifts, so I did it. I detest almost all worship services. I don't care for hymns or choruses. I especially resent greatly that one man gets to get paid to study the Word of God and then stand up every week and tell us what he discovered. and most of them do a pretty poor job at communicating. And my beliefs tend toward the traditional so of course, I'm NEVER going to hear a woman preach although I believe one should preach every other week. Men just communicate and use different examples than women and we as women have to always switch it to apply to us.

I gave one talk at [my old church] once at the end of the worship service and you would have thought the sky was falling! I was good and funny and interesting and [the pastor] hated that. And so did others. So sad.

So I realized that I have been staying busy in a church my whole life, just tolerating the social aspect (which wears me out) and the worship service (which I find a waste of time). If I was using my gifts and doing something, I actually was able to enjoy myself. I literally cannot go into a church and sit and feel anything but anxiety, panic, disgust, anger, frustration and criticalness.

I'm not upset with the Church. I think that local churches could do better, but I understand ALL the barriers and issues toward change.

Many many people are served and helped and led to Christ because of churches. I'm not mad or upset with God or Jesus. I know with 100% certainty that Christianity is the only worldview that makes sense and can transcend every culture and every time period. I love Jesus.

I just find church a complete waste of time, unless I am doing something... and I can't do anything anymore. I'm hurt and tired and don't want the fight. And I certainly could never sit back submissively and let all the men make the decisions.

So I worship all week with amazing little vignettes within my life. I'm resting. It has been almost exactly 4 years. I have only gone to church once and it was because my whole family was here. with all the girlfriends or wives and everyone looked so striking I wanted to go show them off and we sat in the 2nd row and we had so many comments. Not very spiritual. :) But there it is.

I find being part of the unchurched very interesting. I am now just beginning to explore what would bring me back to a church. I have very interesting thoughts about that and how to market the whole church experience. For instance, why is the only gateway into church life through the worship service itself? It is really hard to pick and choose and be part of a church society without attending the all- hallowed worship service, why? It is such a narrow gate and one I find many people just endure in order to get the other things they need like a pastor for a funeral or wedding or conversations over coffee etc.

Sorry it got so long. I could keep going. But I'll stop now. It is the first time I have written it all down. Thanks for asking! That was a nice little gift you gave to me without even knowing it.

Have you been hurt by the church? Is there anything you would change if you had the chance? I’d LOVE to hear your stories!

Begging for Spiritual Bread (Part 1)

I was 14 at the time. The pastor of our church was hosting a family BBQ/Baptism at his rural house with a pond. A few of my friends were being baptized, so I mentioned it to my father on the ride home from church. I told him about the event and asked if he would allow me to be baptized. He said no.

I was deeply disappointed. All my fears came flooding back. I was a fake Christian, God expected more of me. Dad was right to say no. Even though I was sure I already knew the answer, I asked him why the answer was no. He explained that it was inappropriate for a woman to be baptized by anyone other than her spiritual head. It was his duty and he would baptize me himself when the opportunity presented itself.  My mother suggested that he speak with the pastor. Maybe he wouldn’t mind letting dad do the dunking. My father agreed to call.

And so with no discussion of my heart or soul, I was scheduled to be baptized. For two weeks leading up to the event, I tried harder than ever to get my heart right with the Lord. I spent hours just praying, begging God to reveal himself to me. I poured over every page in the bible, looking for something that would move me to tears, or at least make me feel like this was real. I started to think that maybe God would show me something after the baptism. Or maybe even during! I dreamed of rainbows and rays of sunshine that God would send especially for me. My dreams turned to faith. I KNEW God would come thru. So I waited.

The day of the baptism was one of the most exciting days of my life. I talked glowingly about the Lord to my friends at church. I listened intently to the sermon, despite the butterflies in my stomach, waiting for a hint from God that he was planning something great. The sermon was about some Old Testament character and did not apply to me in the least, but I shrugged it off in anticipation of the baptism.

Later that day, I watched as, One by one, people waded out into the pond to be dunked by our cheerful pastor. Each one came up smiling. They scurried out of the water to hug their families and be congratulated. Nobody was speaking in tongues, or prophesying, and I knew that God was saving that for me. Finally it was my turn. My dad cuffed up his sleeves and waded out into the pond. I tucked my skirt between my legs and with one last silent prayer, I followed him. I heard the pastor reciting something about the father, son and Holy Spirit.

                                     ............and then down I went.

   

(To Be Continued)

In Which My Husband Writes a Guest Post

I thinks it's time to tell you a little about my Husband. He grew up in a semi-religious family that never went to church. His childhood was punctuated with tragedy caused by alcoholism and infidelity. When he was around 11 years old his mom found Jesus. His little brother jumped on the bandwagon, but my Husband followed much more cautiously. All throughout high school he studied and researched the subject of religion. As he searched and learned and struggled, he watched how the God began to change his family. At some point he finally decided that he believed in God. His family has been healed and He has an incredible and inspiring faith in God that i wish i could share.

Over the last few months, he has been learning about the darker side of Christianity. The side that i was raised in. He has been shocked and horrified but what I've shown him. After reading This Post By Lisa of Broken Daughters, my husband emailed me at work. It is clear by his writing that he is startled and supremely annoyed by the Fundie interpretation of his religion. I liked what he said so much that i decided to re-post it here. He is responding to the three YouTube Videos that Lisa linked to in her post.

These men are the definition of interpreting scripture without historical and cultural context.  Their entire argument is as follows; "there is nowhere in the bible that says anything about dating" and "there are betrothals that take place in the bible."  That is the same painful anti-logic that the Amish follow in order to conclude that pants and electricity are the work of the devil (but girls wearing skirts and riding horses are God's two favorite things).  What's worse is that these genius's then go on to perform a ritual betrothal that they readily ADMIT is found nowhere in scripture (but some historian says its from around the time Jesus was born so its gotta be OK).  

They look so proud of themselves when they point out that their form of "betrothal is not accepted by our current culture" but they fail to realize that there are a hell of a lot of things that are far better about our current culture than the culture that Jesus happened to be born into (see slavery, governmental oppression, racism, and sexism).  

The truth is that these men are worshiping a culture.  They are placing an inordinate amount of emphasis on the culture surrounding the time the bible was written because in areas where the bible doesn't explicitly tell them what to do, they are unwilling to use their own brains.  

There are clearly matters of biblical indifference where the bible is silent (I have yet to read a verse telling me whether or not it is a sin to deep fry a twinkie).  Rational human beings can have disagreements, Paul even addresses some directly (meat sacrificed to idols).  However there can be no gray areas for these people because if there were, then how could they claim to be perfect in EVERY aspect of their anal retentive lives?  If Jesus had come to earth yesterday and these guys were alive in the year 4011, then we would all be treated to a holographic video of perfect dad 1 and 2 telling future you and me how awful our current culture is.  If only we would have our children date like they did in Jesus' day then surely we would truly be following God...

Like i said  in my last post,  Patriarchy promotes a lifestyle that is supposedly Godly only by virtue of being different from everyone else. Of course its all old hat to me. I know all the rhetoric by heart. But it is fascinating for me to watch him hear this stuff for the first time.

His perspective is refreshing don't you think?

I Am Human

In my senior year of High School, I attended a “rebolution” event hosted by Brett and Alex Harris. They are the little brothers of the infamous Joshua Harris (author of “I kissed dating goodbye”) and the sons of Gregg Harris (a well known leader in the Home School community.) The “rebolution” is a movement that challenges young people to rise above the low expectations of the culture and become men and women of honor. At first it sounds like a great idea. The American teenager is often pushed aside and discounted. We are not treated as full members of society. I loved the idea of a movement encouraging kids to fearlessly pursue their dreams and step outside the “irresponsible teenager” box. However, the Harris brothers do not want kids to pursue their dreams. They want them to pursue “God’s” dream. Much like Eric and Leslie Ludy, they teach young people that God has a plan for them bigger than any dream or desire they might have. They talk about our fallen, depraved culture and about life’s struggles, and then proceed to give us the recipe for success. No matter what your situation in life, you can fix it by “selling out” to Jesus. They tell us that it is impossible to engage in the world and still be a real Christian. All our problems are caused by our lack of faith, by our inability to leave the world behind and trust God fully. They challenge kids to stand up in the middle of the seminar and confess their apathy. They demand that we forsake all, take up our cross, and follow Jesus. I saw kids with tears streaming down their faces, convinced that they had finally found the answer. I watched them commit to purity and promise to throw away all their secular music. I saw girls zip up their jackets, ashamed of the clothing that so clearly represented the world. I watched an auditorium full of my generation get swept away.

Christians get all excited about the idea of being set apart. It makes you special, part of something bigger, and definitely on the winning team. I’m not sure when Fundamentalists decided that the highest form of devotion was separation, but somewhere along the line, they decided that our souls were the only important part of our being. The human body, Emotion, Culture, Self expression, and the fruits of the human mind have somehow become the enemies of our souls. We all want to be fulfilled. As humans, this often leads us to make radical decisions and do crazy things. There is nothing more radical than denying our very humanity.

To remove yourself from “the world” is to remove yourself from your humanity. Humans have bodies and minds as well as souls. We create art and music and scientific theories. A lifestyle that demands only spiritual expression will squelch human emotion. A worldview that rejects any knowledge and beauty apart from God will not engage or value the power of the human mind. We cannot pick and choose which parts of our being to keep or throw away.  When you do this, you run the risk of setting yourself above all others. I was taught from an early age to look down on women wearing makeup. I was taught that my emotions were something to hate and my sexuality was something to be ashamed of. I was taught Doctors were liars and the Psychology was the devil’s work. I was taught disdain for fashion and culture. Fundamentalist groups see human nature as evil. They promote a lifestyle that is supposedly Godly only by virtue of being different from everyone else. They have lost site of the enduring and troubled beauty that is humanity. Humans are blessed with a range of emotions and senses as wide as the sky and as deep as the ocean. History and culture are a canvas painted by human hands, minds and hearts. We are an excellent and fascinating creation.

I love knowing that i am no different from the guy sitting next to me on the bus. For the first time in my life I acknowledge my feelings as valid and natural. I am fascinated by psychology and the study of the human mind. I am free at last to engage in my culture without fear of demons or destruction. I LOVE BEING HUMAN. Brett and Alex Harris mean well. They were taught what I was taught. They think they have found the answer and they are passionate about sharing it with their peers. But they are missing out. Humans are so much more than a soul. 

We cannot live fulfilled lives without accepting the fullness of our humanity.