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.
Okay, so it’s taken me 35 years to ‘get’ that I’ve always liked women. While it’s one thing to be a late bloomer (that could be cute sometimes, in the ‘awww, really?’ way)… it’s a completely different thing to be a total tube light. But the news is: this tube light is now ON (the ‘CEMA bulbs aur tubes’ TV commercial flashes before my eyes, with Sridevi in her tight frilly costume, and the entire jingle threatens to stay on repeat in my blank white mind).
The day started at a hectic pace at THE HUMSAFAR TRUST. Amidst all the din of daily work we were sending out mails , drafts of "letter of protests". There were organisation letters as well as individual ones to be printed . There were flowers to be purchased and envelopes to be filled . We were all ready to counter TV9 against their reckless reporting of the social networking site Planet Romeo in Hyderabad.
Humsafar Trust (Mumbai) details for HIV Testing.
I was trying to figure out why it has been so stressful trying to explain my break-up situation to my straight friends, and then I saw this video and it occurred to me that it is simple – I’ve been in a lesbian relationship! Seriously, I could take you step-by-step through that video and give you examples from my relationship.
I first heard the The Rose (by Bette Midler) performed by a women’s a cappella quartet at Colgate University, in an on-campus coffee house during the dead of winter. How …
January 29th, 2011 was an incredible day on several accounts. (Many of which are not PG-13, so let’s skip those parts.) It was the day of the much-awaited (read: 18 months) Queer Azaadi March – my first ever out and proud march on the streets of Mumbai.