In gratitude for this group created in service to others. The opportunity to serve on the @springclearance planning committee is one of several great joys. Thank you to those who lead, participated, those who donated their cash & prizes and YOU!
Putting fingers to keys, my (re)views of my life loving the arts & culture of New York City. Take a read, once or weekly, of my Substack, My Artist Dates. /p/lifes-sentences
##pleasedonate @springclearance is family. It’s home. It’s cornerstone of connections to know we are never alone again. As Fundraising Chair once more, with gratitude and love, I ask for your donation to help continue to make this wellness retreat ‘United in Connection.”
@aconstable22 You were the same age as Roman now when I moved away. Much of our lives has been through photos and phone calls. And still, every time a land, I think I’ll see that nine year old again. My little brother is grown, now a loving, doting father and husband. What a joy it is to see your new family and to welcome @shayconstable91 into ours. May you two be forever. X, Bubby
Seven perfect days, house of seven wonderful gays and a supporting cast of characters, locations, situations, observations, fornications, meditations and twin sets. Provincetown you are both an Eden fantasy and fever dream.
PRIDE: 7 of 7 — BEING A SISSSY: There were always subtle, and most times not so subtle, hints and whispers I was gay. I knew it very young, but was told it from others before I could figure it out on my own. “Stop being a sissy.” “He acts like a sissy.” I DID act like one; I was one. The closest person to me was my twin sister. She had all the toys I wanted. It wasn’t by nature and environment. It was biological. I didn’t have the words, but wanted to be just like her. There were boys on my street growing up. I was forced to play with them. They didn’t want me there. I wanted to be playing house, Barbies and jump rope with the girls. All that attention to pull me away took a big emotional toll, more so than just letting me be. But this isn’t a post about blame. Adults were still very loving and were only teaching as they were taught The kids could be cruel, but that’s how kids are. What I address now in therapy, and in my sobriety, is reconciling happiness the sissy that played with those Barbie’s vs shame, the sissy who liked boys not as friends but as sex beings. At 50, my internalized homophobia is real y’all. It’s present because I recognize and work to overcome it. That sissy teenager, that pre-schooler who so proudly wears and honors it today, can’t get over the shame and stigma that wanting to be relationship isn’t “right” because why would they want a sissy…that sex has to be done in secret as to not gross “everyone out.” *More in comments …
