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I’m sorry, but I don’t give a crap about race right now. I don’t care about my identity or my sexuality or my childhood. I don’t care about where I fit in or how I talk or whether or not people think I look Jewish.

Right now, I care about rent and management companies and applications. About co-ops and apartments and landlords. I care about inexpensive food and healthy meals. I care about exercise and physical therapy and healing from surgery. I care about root canals and crowns and Medicaid and medication.

Right now, I couldn’t care less about the shade of my skin or the tightness of my curl. My living room wall is covered with calendars, receipts and poetry. Each day when I get up my goal is to get at least one thing done that moves me forward, that brings me one step closer to my goals or pulls them closer to me. Each day when I get up my goal is to heal a little more, to settle a little further into this new body that is mine, that will always now be missing a chunk of the disc that used to cushion the space between L4 and L5. To guard against laziness, but give myself time. To listen and know when to say yes and when to say no. To do only what matters.

When I face my computer, my blog, my book, my thoughts blur. I see a jumble of past and present. I see fears and conflicting intentions. I see faces of strangers asking, “What is your memoir about?,” and faces of loved ones saying, “Good for you,” as their faces scrunch up wondering how they’ll be depicted. I see myself failing, receiving rejection after rejection. I see you waiting for a new post, thinking I have already failed. I see my once-a-week, Wednesday schedule disintegrating into dust as I languish on the sofa, painfully turning from the left to the right, straightening carefully as I stand, reluctantly, to go pee. I see my future children, becoming more of a dream and less of a reality.

So you see, right now I don’t care about race. I don’t care about gender. I don’t care about how and when and why I came out.

Right now I care about craigslist ads and temp agencies, savings accounts and credit unions. I care about Occupy Wall Street and police brutality. I care about freelance work and staying open to possibilities. I care about my mental health, calling the doctor, and being where I’m supposed to be when I’m supposed to be there.

Right now I care about the changing leaves. About peaceful mornings and good nights sleep. I care about music and breath. Right now I care about love. I care about the fact that somehow, in the midst of chaos, I found out that there was love all around me. I care about concentrating on love and giving it room to multiply. I care about loving back.

Right now I care about focusing on what’s good and not on what’s missing. I care about coming through this very difficult year in one piece. Still black. Still white. Still mixed. Still female. Still queer. Still a writer.

Intact.

Thanks for stopping by, and don’t forget:
Clicking is cool,
reading is rad.
Comments are classy, and
sharing is caring.

It’s been a long time coming, but WGiBF T-shirts are now for sale! Finally you can wear your irreverence with pride, in my 100% cotton, comfy fitting T’s.

Each shirt comes in either a women’s cut or a roomier, unisex style. To purchase, click on the appropriate Add to Cart button and you will be directed to Paypal to complete your transaction. Orders should typically go out within 48 hours, however depending on response and inventory, could take up to two weeks. But have no fear… I will get you your shirt and soon you will be best dressed on casual Friday.

*Please check out the notes on sizing at the bottom before choosing your t-shirt. They run a little wonky (why wouldn’t they!?).

……………………………………………………

You don’t have to keep Kosher to wear this cheeky T-shirt; you just need a torso and a bit of chutzpah. Although it doesn’t hurt if you are full on Jewish, half Jewish, one eighteenth Jewish or adopted by Jews, sympathetic to Israelis, irresistibly attracted to side curls or if you just generally have a great sense of humor about meat and dairy.

Kosher Pussy makes a great Chanukah gift! Wear it to a taping of The Daily Show! Wear it in your profile photo on JDate! Throw it on with a silk scarf and a cardigan for Friday night services and you’ll be the talk of the shul! Or do like me and wear it to the bodega to pick up a carton of Schweddy Balls.

* handmade silver ring by Jenn B Jewelry.


Straight, gay, queer, lesbian, questioning, bi, sexually fluid… Defining your sexuality is more difficult than choosing your privacy settings on Facebook! Luckily, WGiBF has simplified things.

Up until my early 30s, I was straight. It wasn’t until I acknowledged my interest in women that I learned how complex sexuality really is. People would ask me, “So, are you a lesbian now? Are you bi? What are you?” It was reminiscent of the pressure to define myself racially and I found that bisexuality is often doubted just like biracial identity.

Being post-straight offers us room to grow and change without denying our past or defining our future. This shirt can be worn by folks anywhere on the spectrum of sexuality, including those who are straight, but not narrow! Remember, not everyone can be gay, but we can all be fashionable.

Order below!

For those who don’t know, Jungle Fever is not just a Spike Lee joint, it’s a term used for interracial relationships (namely, black/white) and implies that a white person attracted to a black person has some sort of illness (aside from sickeningly good taste).

Folks travel around the world and bring back “stupid T-shirts” for their loved ones. And in a sense, interracial unions are like traveling. They allow people to see themselves through new eyes, question their beliefs and look beyond the superficial. The irony is that we children of these unions are often born into a job. We carry the scars and the dreams of two (or more) groups, and our bodies and minds become a battleground. Although I feel blessed, being mixed has sometimes felt like a burden. This shirt reminds us that it’s all quite silly. The truth is, I got way more than a T-shirt. I got curly hair, an appreciation for bluegrass, and the privilege of being mistaken for Moroccan.

The things that make us most alike are often the least obvious. Be just like me and get a Jungle Fever T-shirt today!

SIZING: For some reason, the women’s Ts that I ordered run really small which is why I noted the sizes I am wearing in the photos. The unisex style (pictured at left), is fuller in the body and the sleeve and runs pretty true to size. I like the medium in that one, but I did my best to rock the XL because that’s the only one I had at the time of the photo! Do keep in mind they are 100% cotton. I recommend hanging to dry.

More styles will be available in the near future. If you have any questions, please email me at newmeadow@gmail.com before ordering and I’ll make sure you get what you need!

PS: I apologize that each time you click on a different shirt it will open in a new window. You’ll get it, you’re savvy. That’s just where my patience wore out in the battle of WordPress vs. Paypal.

97: books on my To Read list
48: times I say “Ouch” daily
35: years it took me to realize I was better off alone than in a bad relationship
30: chapters in my memoir
24: lost lip balms I’ve replaced and then found later
13: weeks since my back surgery
12: tampons I’ve received via overnight Fed Ex from an ex
12: tampons I would have rather not received via overnight Fed Ex from an ex
10: times I’ve redefined my sexuality
9: countries I’ve been blessed to visit
8: glasses of water I should drink each day
7: the only two syllable, one digit number other than zero
6: weekly blog posts I missed this summer
5: pillows on my bed
4: drug dealers I have to ask to get off the mailbox to mail my Netflix movies
3: children I’ve hugged this week
2: natural disasters since my last post
1: race too many to believe in race
0: times I have immaculately conceived a baby

+
—————————————————

= 326: opportunities to practice grace

I was recently introduced to Afro DZ ak when he was featured on the Swirl, Inc. blog. His poem about what it means (and doesn’t mean) to be mixed resonated deeply with me, while his powerful use of language and humor blew me away. Today, I want to share his words with you in my very first WGiBF feature! Also, do yourself a favor and click on the links at the end to hear some of his incredible music. Afro D may be mixed, but the funk came through pure and true. I’m allowed to say that ’cause I’m mixed.

…………………………………..

Just Cause I’m Mixed
by
Afro DZ ak

Just Cause I’m Mixed, that don’t mean that I’m mixed up

Inherently confused or I need to be fixed up

Just Cause I’m Mixed, that don’t mean I’m a mule

So don’t call me ‘mulatto,’ thinkin it’s cool

Just Cause I’m Mixed, that don’t mean I’m adopted

Yes, she’s white, and yes, she’s my biological mama

But whether or not I was adopted, you ain’t got the right

To stare or make comments cause my mother is white

Just Cause I’m Mixed, that don’t mean I’m ‘not Black’

Cuz the concept we can have only one identity is wack

And I stand proudly with all my people of color

Painting broad concepts of ‘sister’ and ‘brother’

Just Cause I’m Mixed, that don’t mean I’m ill-conceived

As words like ‘miscegenation’ would have you believe

Just Cause I’m Mixed, that don’t mean I’m ashamed

Cuz the ‘race’ of my mom and my dad ain’t the same

Just Cause I’m Mixed, that don’t mean I’m predictable

So sayin ‘mixed people all do this’ or ‘mixed people are all like that’ is despicable

Just Cause I’m Mixed, and I rock a big fro

Don’t mean I’m Maxwell, Lenny Kravitz, Bob Marley, Jimi Hendrix, or ‘that guy in that commercial for jeans, beer, or cologne’

Just Cause I’m Mixed, that don’t mean that I’m ‘Other’

Miscellaneous, Oreo, or the ‘half & half brother’

Just Cause I’m Mixed, that don’t mean racism has ended

As some ignorant conservative politicians have pretended

Just Cause I’m Mixed, that don’t mean that I’m perfect

Like some kind of ‘hybrid vigor’ has made my genes superior to mere earthlings

Cuz being Multiracial is a blessing and a curse

It’s better and it’s worse, it’s last and it’s first

It’s nothing and it’s everything, it’s yin and it’s yang

It’s the apocalypse, the creation, and the big bang

It’s a subject that inspires me to write

It’s a commonality which has helped me unite

With other Mixed people who can relate all across the earth

But being Mixed does not define my personal worth

…………………………………..

Afro DZ ak is a multi-instrumentalist MC who uses music, hip-hop and spoken-word poetry to promote positive social change. An on-stage triple threat, Afro DZ ak wields a mighty trumpet, plays keys, and rhymes on the mic. His debut solo album Elevation was released through Gnawledge Records in 2008.

effort

my father hit my mother for
walking wrong
for sleeping wrong
for eating ice cream wrong

for

being pregnant

twenty one years later he wrote to me and said
that the spring had come exceptionally early
that the swamp maple trees were blooming like popcorn
in his north carolina yard
that his need for us to communicate was pressing
and well-motivated
but that i had made
no
successful
effort
to know him

a phone card pasted to the back page of a handmade book
and his writing in smooth blue ink read
Can we talk?

Thanks for stopping by, y’all. Don’t forget to check out my facebook page for the nostalgic musical pairing to this post… while my facebook page still exists. I’m told that soon I’ll be on Google+.

If you aren’t lesbian, gay, bisexual, queer, transgendered, questioning or a straight ally; if you don’t live in New York or another major city; if you don’t have a gay cousin or a butch aunt or follow politics or watch the news or read the papers or surf the internets, then you might not know that June is Pride Month, and that this past weekend was full of gay pride celebrations. You also probably don’t read this blog so let’s just go ahead and pretend this paragraph never happened.

The big news is that despite it being just three weeks since my back surgery, this weekend I made a new t-shirt, attended my friends’ Carpet Bruncher (that’s a late breakfast for, well, you get it) and strutted my sexually fluid butt through both the Dyke March and the Pride March (nearly five gay miles)!

Here’s what I learned:

  1. Not all dykes are women.
  2. Everyone likes boobs. If you have some, you should show them to people. They make things festive.
  3. Cops like kosher pussy. They don’t want to arrest you. They just want to take a picture for their Jewish friend. Calm down.
  4. I’m going to hell, but Jesus will save me. (I’m not sure if he will save me before or after I get there. I’m guessing he’s going to let me burn a while, or at least get overly hot, just to show me who’s boss.)
  5. Pride colors can also be affectionately referred to as rainbow vomit or unicorn poop.
  6. Dogs have no interest in sexual politics. Like, none.
  7. It’s challenging to maneuver a cane, a sign, a bag and a camera at the same time. Leave the sign at home. If only my grandmother had been around to tell me this.
  8. Queers are racially segregated, but somewhat less so than the general population (in my entirely unscientific poll). My theory is that it’s a small community and we’re already marginalized, so we can’t afford to divide ourselves any further. Or maybe it’s because gay people tend to understand discrimination on a gut level because they experience it regardless of their race. Or maybe things just seemed all kumbaya because it was pride weekend and I was wearing dark glasses.
  9. I belong to many families.
  10. Glitter is sexy and bars are loud, hence conversations like:
    “I love your glitter.”
    “You love my daughter?”
  11. Fishnet need not be restricted to legs. Make an outfit of it.
  12. Love is our natural state.
  13. If you go to a gay bar/club/party/event, even in a city as big as New York, you will run into your ex, your ex’s ex, your ex’s friends, your friend’s ex, and your future ex. They all know each other. This is simple lesbian logistics.
  14. People you thought were dating are not together anymore, people who were single are now dating, and people who live together used to date. Don’t ask questions, just use your sixth sense. You know, the one your mother didn’t tell you about.
  15. Nobody should be voting on whether or not I am allowed to marry a lady human — however — considering I live in a country where people used to own each other, I’m grateful to all the legislators, supporters and activists who brought marriage equality to New York!

Now get yourself on over to my facebook page for the musical pairing to this post, or check it out below. Then go out there, show off your boobies and make us all proud. Well, maybe wait until next June.

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