I am a Woman who…

“You’re hungry ’cause you starve
While holding back the tears
Choking on your smile
A fake behind the fear
The queerest of the queer”-Garbage

Never in my life did I think I would end up an actress in this sense. I’m not talking about the kind of actress that graces the stage or screen, but the type that acts all day everyday with almost everyone I come in contact with in the hopes that they don’t discover my “secret”. Overall, I think most people have a strong desire to label someone’s sexuality, “Are you gay?” many have asked ,heads cocked to the side, a slight smile letting me know my latest act has failed.  That question makes the sadness within me swell because I can no longer hide. I don’t have it in me anymore to look those I love and respect in the eye and avoid the questions they so boldly ask. Simultaneously, thinking about my response and their reaction makes me start to feel like I am going insane.”Sometimes” I reply “I am pretty gay” pausing before I say ”but not last night, last night my line was as straight as a Roman nose and last night I rode a cowboy from here to kingdom come while enjoying every second of it.” This response of course leads into the bisexual line of questioning. What does that word even mean? Bisexual? It sounds to me like a word invented by men who head porn companies in order to illicit some sort of physical response from the millions of “straight” folks who LOVE watching two women kiss.  Am I bisexual?…..no. I love people not genitalia, it’s an effort to be close to someone physically without the over analyzing of gender. I spend most of my days wishing I had never opened Pandora’s Box that night when a let her into my heart and onto my body.

 I have had my moments of trying to forget, I even moved 1,500 miles away from my home to “straighten out”  but once the gender lines get crossed it seems reverting back to complete heterosexuality  is impossible. Sometimes less daring people will ask me …”What are you?” Like I am an animal or an exotic plant they are unfamiliar with,  I wish I could  reply….I am the woman who would offer you my pulse for seeing who I am and not who I sleep with. I am the woman who would give her life for any and all of the children who have saved mine just by existing. I am the woman who would sacrifice anything for a friend. I am woman who wishes to be rid of her sins of omission. I am a woman who wants to make her mother proud while wearing a white wedding dress with a handsome groom. I am a woman who needs to make music and art to live. I am a woman who has been more blessed than I can ever fully recount without being brought to my knees. I am a woman who loves and is loved. I am a woman who will paint her body with needles dipped in ink just so I never forget a moment in time or a memory in this life. I am a woman living life afraid of being found out but equally afraid that by silencing who I am I am slowly suffocating my soul. I spend days wondering is it really so cut and dry for some? Do some folks really eliminate an entire group of people based on what is or is not between their legs?

Recently, I was in Home depot listening intently as Marty in his orange vest explained my plumbing issues. “A toilet” he explained “will only work if it has an equal number of male and female parts.”  Of course, I thought here it is the Christian and societal rhetoric reinforced in everything I do including something as benign as my fucking toilets. No wonder I feel so lost, I often entertain the idea of finding the perfect man and putting all of this behind me. Problem is I know chances are I would only date him in the hopes of getting an invitation to help his sister pick out lingerie while watching her model it.  Am I expected to believe there is anyone on this earth who doesn’t get excited at the prospect of a beautiful woman in a wife beater and boy panties sitting next to them?  For the record, I’m calling bull shit on that.  I do believe for some they would prefer to stare at her rather than love her but the lust still exists…. right? Why then has this become such a burden for me?  Why my inability to accept my secret?  I dream of being reborn completely heterosexual (if there is such a thing), I idealize it much like being born white and into privilege; maybe only then would I be comfortable in my own skin. I dream often too of being a reborn a beautiful African boy with music in his soul and a gleam in his eye. I dream of the days pre puberty when for a while playing on hills as a little girl I felt normal. I dream of waking up and loving myself, regardless of who is or is not lying next to me…..I dream of being free.