You know the whole thing of Dykes on Bikes... yeah well, I’m that dyke. And although I would be on the bike even if I was ramrod straight, somehow, I have been cast into the stereotype by virtue of being gay. Damn.
It was Lord Shiva, who had taken the form of Ratnavati’s mother and nurtured her the past few days. It was the three-eyed Lord, who is known for his masculinity,that played the role of the mother, the midwife and the nanny to the new born and looked after the two in need.
Welcome to the new layout at Gaysi. Not that much has changed. We respect the Disco Shanti pink and the dhinchak yellow far too much to mess with that.
The sextravagana continues... (always wanted to use the word 'sextravaganza')
My first sexual experience, with my first boyfriend in high school, was brought upon me with coercion. This sexual experience did not happen on my own terms. This doesn’t mean I didn’t eventually enjoy it or that I didn’t still fall head-over-heels for him, but this wasn’t how or when I had wanted it to happen.
“I didn’t know dykes thought differently from non-dykes... I mean other than the fact that they think about girls...”
Now that I have your attention...
Some of the bloggers say all the “good ones” have been taken. Hey... I am right here. And I am good, believe you me. And I’m not taken. But that’s just the point – we all are the “good ones” in our own eyes
It changed three years ago when I fell in love with a woman. I wanted to scream and tell the world. “I am finally in love.” Finally, I understand. At that point in my life, I had started to believe that I was incapable of being in love. I didn’t know that I was trying my luck with the wrong gender. So I wanted to tell everyone. I wanted to put it on the Facebook, Orkut, Twitter, my Blog. Everywhere. Hey, I was in love.
When you share your inner most self you allow for recognition to happen. Sometimes we are afraid of being seen for what we are and this in turn causes us to fear being available to a world we long to enter. The greater damage is how we cease to be a vivid presence to our own selves. We choose the wrong mirrors and have to deal with false reflections.
I seem to have a problem. And freezing in mid-step, like Jim Carrey does in Mask, when it comes to making conversation with attractive women seems be to the very least of it. Turns out, there is something wrong with my vibe. Should have smacked me right in the middle of my face, but like with everything else that involves a combination of subtlety and the art of self-observation, I only recently figured this one out. Apparently, being single most of my life wasn’t a good enough hint (Sigh. Some people are so daft, I tell you).
I was 21years old when I met her. Right from the start, we never had a name for this thing we had. Or have. I don’t know. I didn’t know then and I still don’t know. It’s all so mixed up in my head – the beginning, the middle and the non-end. Tangled up so much that I doubt there will be even a semblance of order in these words that come pouring out now.
The one memory from rush week that stands out the most is from the fondue night. We had the fondue night at one of the sister’s houses and she asked her straight roommates if they wanted any fondue. One of them responded with something along the lines of “ewwww I’m not sharing fondue with y’all and your vagina fingers!” Yes.
I’m thinking of the women who were a part of my life at different times, women of all ages, from different backgrounds, in different circumstances. With each one it was a unique journey on a different road, but when I look back, I see that the milestones were probably the same. We started as acquaintances – bumping into each other sometimes, calling each other for some bit of information sometimes, sharing a ride sometimes, meeting for coffee sometimes – doing all the normal acquaintance-y things that people do, with the keyword being 'sometimes'.
As a Gaysi, I know I struggle to find popular Gaysi celebrities or idols to look up to. It would be great to know that in our intricate world of tradition, culture, and strict values, someone dared to stand up for themselves and come out. It would be liberating to look up to someone and say to ourselves that if they could do it, if they could risk what they have to be true to themselves, anyone could.
The word ‘lesbian’ was not in my dictionary at the time, but I knew I was different and I took a lot of pain to hide this difference. This involved being with boys, talking about boys and even making out with boys! The last part I managed by pretending I was drinking milk...I held my nose and gulped it down. It took me another twelve years to come out to the world, which I did with maximum fanfare and minimum backlash. And I stupidly thought that the difficult part was over.
If someone asks me to explain ‘What makes a family’ in a sentence, I think it’s hard for me to phrase it. You see I come from a family and
When I first realized I was into girls, and only girls, things seemed so clear and easy. I had finally figured out the reason behind the unhappiness and discontentment in my past relationships. I finally embraced a significant part of myself, and in that moment, I was finally able to piece together who I was, instead of who I had always wanted myself to be.
I have been questioning the need to box ourselves and judge each other by mere labels. Don’t you think a lot of them seem to be an extension of the hereto- and cis-normative views of the world and for a need to conform ourselves into that?
HEQ’s choose to connect with their true selves. They nourish their spirits by accepting who they are. They try to live purposefully, be of service to their community and exercise compassion. When they are not too busy connecting, they engage in clownish role-play.