A Ravenclaw's Bookshelf

I went to Pride yesterday for the first time, and as someone who has finally accepted an LGBTQIA label for herself (I'm ace). It was nerve-wrackingly fun - I had never been in that queer of a space before, yet I felt incredibly comfortable and safe. I've seen a lot of posts where aspec people talk about being uncomfortable in spaces like that because they can be very hypersexualized, and there were definitely some places that were, but overall it was fine. It was all about coming together as a community and celebrating each other. Even before accepting myself as ace, I've always felt a sense of belonging to the rainbow community online, so I'm glad I could enjoy myself as a visible aspec in the parade.

(italian ace pun - I love it)

I'm not out to very many people, which is what made me nervous going into it. I was worried I would run into people I know from my church or other communities that aren't very accepting of LGBTQ people. I did happen to run into a few people, but my friends helped me stay safe when that happened.

that's why he went and found someone else

and sure, maybe there wasn't excitement or newness between us

butterflies in your feet when you see them

that makes you want to leap into their arms.

we'd been close friends for almost a year

no, there wasn't a "spark"

but there was safety.

there was comfort.

security.

his gaze wrapped around me like a blanket,

my hands open to embrace and protect all that he was.

he was my safe person far before we ever considered a relationship together.

in his comfort i found excitement

i found joy

i found the greatest amount of love i've ever felt for a person.

but I guess he didn't feel the same.

⚠️TW -- d*ath; racial motivation;

I've become desensitized to humans killing other humans. Humans tend to act out in this manner when one singular emotion takes a hold of too much power in our brains. The last time I outwardly expressed emotion about humans killing humans was after the Lakewood High School shooting (Florida) in 2018. I cried in the bathroom for a half hour. I didn't know anyone involved, but it was the first time I had had such a movement of emotion inside of me for such an event. [this proves to me that I'm human, but that's for another time]. I also had an outward reaction about the murder of George Floyd, but so much of it was politically motivated and just added to the noise on social media that it didn't feel like my genuine reaction. I was just echoing what I had heard.

But now, hearing of a racially-motivated attack against a Nigerian man in a seaside town of Italy, it's making me more emotional than anything else I've heard like this in a while. Maybe because he wasn't killed with a gun, maybe because my sisters are colorful, and thinking about how people want to hurt them just because they have more melanin in their skin. Whatever the reason, these emotions are new. And I hate that they are new.

A word that's been sitting in the back of my mind over the last few days. In this world, it's seen as weakness. But it's not. Silence is power.

I ran across a quote the other day:

"Silence. The ability to deliberately keep yourself out of the conversation and subsist without its validation. Silence is the respite of the confident and the strong."

But then someone listens.

And your whole world comes crumbling down.

When you can finally see out past the walls that were built up around your small picket fence,

When you seeing them wave at you, Smiling whenever you enter a room,

When you see people who say, "I'll listen to you. You're worth it to me."

it's a feeling.

what i was before being so

utterly broken

that i no longer know

who i am.

longing for home,

is longing to be whole again.

because when you can't even feel safe in yourself,

Purging the dirt, the caked and dried blood, the debris.

Once it's in the open air, then it may heal.

Only then.

The cool breeze licks against the raw skin.

Reminding me of where I am.

Not there. Not anymore.

But a new chapter with new possibilities.

Then it leaves a scar.

And it'll be with me for the rest of my life.

But that's okay.

Because I'm not her anymore. I'm no longer what they tried to make me be.