Mystic Queer Dragon

I wanted to write out my thoughts on the week following (what felt like) the big move to start my podcast. 

It’s been a lot of looking at insights and analytics. And feeling afraid that no one gives a shit. That I can’t make this work. It’s really weird to make something that lives in the digital public. There is absolutely a feeling like I’m screaming into a dark cave terrified that mysterious eyeballs are watching me. 

It feels daunting right now. And I could fall into being too afraid to continue if I let myself stare at the darkness. But I’m going to lean into the excitement and the mystery of it all. 

The thing is that fear and mystery can be two sides of the same token. Along with all the fear also comes a bit of stubbornness and even appreciation for the amount of engagement I have gotten. Even if it’s just a couple of likes. 

Clocking Colonialism

Step 1) see “reality”

They see us as still waters,

Stagnant

A breeding ground for infestation,

Unmoving

An incubator for death and disease

Unchanging

“No vitality here” they say

“No value to be found”

Step 2) see “future”

They see us as savages and monsters

stuck

in the shadows they cast

with ultramodern towers

stretched

touching the sky

Built with flesh

stacked bodies

hidden behind

concrete/ideology

Step ∞) see indigenous time

they told us we couldn’t grow here

but our true nature is growth

We are, life force flowing

In a circle it moves

Life and tradition and laughter

Energy and ceremony and triumph

our ancestors are in our being

We honor our dead

They live through us

New faces, same heart,

We adapt, we grow,

our survival is an energy

Connecting us through time and space

accumulation of revolution

We are ever moving,

In circle

Thinking about the end of the world. The ending that has been promised to us over and over again. The one used to threaten us into submission. Fire and brimstone. Souls reaching out from the pits of hell.

Thinking about how this world is already on fire.

Thinking about what is lost in waiting for institutions to crumble.

Thinking about all the energy I’ve poured into worlds that no longer exist and worlds that still exist. Worlds I have worked to destroy. Worlds I have dreamed of building.

Thinking about what it would mean to pour my energy into a new world before it “exists”. Surely, everyone around me would think I’ve gone mad. 

Thinking it might be worth the misunderstanding. Surely someone will still see me. Maybe in another life time.

Thinking about what it means to hold onto the vision of potentiality and possibility. To hold in my heart the seed of freedom and love.

Thinking about what it means to betray the crumbling world to open space for me to honor my full self.

Thinking about the moment I meet people on the other side. In a new world, when I am able to hold a basket of fruit and breads out and offer the nourishment and sustenance I have cultivated.

Thinking about the border between the dream world and reality, knowing that borders are never as solid as they appear, even when they are guarded with guns and ideology.

Thinking.

And knowing.

Today, I woke up with gratitude and awe for the power of study.

Last night I took a familiar ride down the rabbit hole of Octavia E. Butler. I’ve read about half of her books and short stories. I put some of her work off because I wasn’t ready. But now I feel ready to study. I was drawn to this class created by Alexis Pauline Gumbs. I now understand why it is called an “immersion”. Because there is a deep sea of knowing here. There is community here as well.

Gloria Anzaldua talks about the sacredness of art and how indigenous peoples recognize art as something that is living and therefore art must be shared with the people - with community. 

I am learning that writing can also be a practice of community. When an author writes in their full authentic self, and then shares their work with others, there is a relational energy exchange that occurs. There is magick here. Something I don’t quite have the words for (yet) but that I can feel in my chest.

This same energy is what gives me awe. Knowing that other writers put themselves on the page and share(d) it. Now, I can read Octavia E. Butler and know her. Form a relation with her. Drink a cup of coffee with her. Be in community with her.

I realized that Octavia E. Butler considered herself an asocial hermit. Yet, through her writing she has created legacy. She is the center of so many communities. So, when Kianna Middleton wrote about the three things that are privileged in her dissertation being “self, community (text), and theory,” I felt that. It changed something inside me.

           All that you touch

           You change

           All that you Change

           Changes you.

           The only lasting truth

           Is change.

           God

           Is change.

           - Earthseed: The Books of the Living

So, I’ve started reading Parable of the Sower. I’ve put this off for a long time. Even though I’ve heard so much about this book. I’m going to take it slow. I’m going to indulge in adrienne maree brown and Toshi Reagon. 

Last night when I watched their podcast about chapter one, I wrote down several more journal prompts. Another reason why study has put me in awe. The curriculum keeps presenting itself to me. I set my intention for this class to deepen. And I hear Octavia whispering in my ear, calling me down a vast ocean of ideas and feelings whispering “deeper, swim deep”.

I am thinking a lot about masculinity. We live in a world where the definition of what it means to be a man is in flux. A dizzying kaleidoscope of colors and shapes. Some of them resonates and reverberations of sexism and patriarchy, and others a liberating visage of what’s to come. Some of the questions on my mind are how I can be non-binary and a man at the same time? How can inner-child work reconnect me with the little boy inside? What can I learn from my inner-boy self? And, how can I be a father to the little boy inside of me?

can i be non-binary and male at the same time? “yes, and” decolonial gender

I was assigned male at birth, but my gendered journey has been fraught with confusion and delusion. As many of us will tell you, growing up different, we are marked as deviant long before we understood what “gay” or “lesbian” means. Many queer kids grow up experiencing a disconnection between our “self” and what the world expects us to be.

At the age of twelve, I came out to my newly found middle-school clique of weirdos made up almost entirely of girls that were also discovering their own queerness and sprouting leaves of feminist sensitivities. Goddexx graced me with other kids who were open and accepting. I began to identify with my femininity and to distance myself from patriarchal masculinity. I am blessed to experience my adolescence in this way and to be given feminist language, queer desires, and trans freedoms to resist the suffocating binds of binary patriarchal gender.

In college, I had a professor, a lovely and wise queer Ugandan. About five feet tall with a buzz cut and an inviting playful smile. I told my professor that I was non-binary and Dr. Tushabe gave me that decolonial look. The one that says “mmm, try harder.” They asked, “what does non-binary mean to you?” Dr. Tushabe is a master at asking the kinds of questions that sit with you for years.

For now, I think of identifying as non-binary as a political identity that resists and transforms. It is understanding gender as fluid. It is recognizing the myths of gender and living within the reality of gendered being. It is yes, and; It is no, but. Lately, it is mostly a process of healing. It is recognizing that I grew up with a phantom for a father. It is learning that the hate I grew for him, also gave root to the hate I grew for myself. It is knowing my feminine energy and my masculine energy and having honor and respect for them both. It is being a make-up wearing femme-butch daddy bear enby. It is knowing that the words that describe today’s identity might not fit tomorrow’s identity.

healing through the practice of forgiveness and acknowledging my father’s boy-ness.

Have you ever had to forgive someone that hurt you in ways you haven’t even fully processed? It’s difficult, messy and a lot of work. 

My dad left (the first time) when I was a sensitive and vulnerable little boy. I was only five years old, and I had just started school. He was my favorite person in the world. I had so much love for him.

I didn't realize it then, but my relationship with my dad would be completely different during my boyhood than during my teen years. There is so much hurt that would infect our relationship. I was raised to not use the word “hate” lightly. But when I was a teen, I told my mom that I hate my dad. And I meant it.

My dad died a little over a decade ago. He visited me in my dreams a while back, and I learned a lot about his own broken boyhood. I now understand that he wasn’t taught how to love. He wasn’t given loving and tender fathering.

A close friend of mine asked me to figure out what I loved about him because he makes up 50% of who I am – if I can’t find love for him, then I can’t find it for myself either.

He was creative in ways I will never get to fully understand. He always had music playing. He liked to dance. He liked to be outside with nature, and when I was a boy, he gave me space to explore. Although he was far from perfect, he tried to provide for me in ways that his father did not provide for him.

In my dream he gave me two pairs of tennis shoes and told me he was sorry. Later, before I told my mom about my dream, she told me a story that created space for forgiveness. My dad told her that when he was a little boy, he had worn out his shoes. When he told his dad he needed a new pair, his dad refused to buy him any. He went around barefoot for months.

He didn’t give me everything I needed. I didn’t receive the love and support I needed from him. He didn’t teach me the things that fathers should teach their sons. But he gave me shoes. I am learning to forgive him. And myself.

watching dragon ball, sitting with alonsito, and fathering my boy-self.

How can I give my inner child the father that he always needed? How can I spend time with myself and my inner child that is meaningful and quality father-son time? Perhaps this sounds too “out there” for some, but refathering myself is a spiritual and political practice I am exploring to honor my masculine energy outside of the oppressive colonial gender system

When I was in fourth grade, I started watching Dragon Ball Z and Dragon Ball when it was on Tunami, and it was a way for me to connect to other boys. People whom I have long since grown apart from. But this show was a staple in my boyhood. Therefore, I have been watching Dragon Ball as a practice of reconnecting with my boy self.

The kind of father that I want to be is the kind that sits with their child and watches their favorite shows, but also the kind of father than teaches their son to question truth and construct their own meaning. The kind of father I want to be is one who teaches their son to navigate their gender in ways that honor their divine energy while acknowledging harmful and sexist myths.

the advice my father self gives to my boy self

Being a good person is important. You should stand up for others like Goku. You should be loyal and fight for what’s right. But heroes don’t always have to fight. Sometimes heroes are soft and kind. Sometimes heroes need others to help them figure out a problem. Sometimes being a hero is listening, or knowing when you need a hug, or knowing its okay to cry when you feel sad.

Goku is super strong, but no boy should grow up without parents. No one should be left alone in the world. And when something horrible happens, it’s okay to talk about it. Being open and honest about your emotions is a different kind of strength, and it’s just as important as having a strong body.

Master Roshi is a pervert. Don’t be like master Roshi. If you encounter an adult like master Roshi, someone who makes young girls or boys feel uncomfortable or tries to touch them in inappropriate ways, you should tell an adult. That is sexual harassment and assault. It’s not okay and it’s not funny.

Goku’s friends were wrong to not tell him about the monster he turns into during the full moon. When we make mistakes, we should know about them. Everyone makes mistakes, but a real hero will acknowledge their mistakes and try to make it better. Real friends don’t let their friends be monsters. Real friends don’t run away from their friends’ feelings.

Heroes aren’t always right. Heroes aren’t always strong. And heroes gotta be regular people sometimes too.

You’re not Goku. You get to choose who you are. Who will you be?

feeling loved and an invitation to self-parenting

This practice helped me experience what it means to be present for myself. It has taught me about what kind of father I might someday want to be and what I think boys need to know. I feel loved, and I am excited to think about ways to deepen this practice of fathering my inner Alonsito.