Minutes before I saw Poison Ivory pour champagne down her back and watch it drip between her legs, I knew seeing this black burlesque performer would evoke Power.
Is it too obvious to say that reading books about queer women with superpowers can be very… empowering?
On refusal, rest, and resistance.
If you could have any superpower, what would it be?
Saying yes almost destroyed me, but I was still afraid to say no.
Church leaders wielded the idea of “the will of the Lord” in ways that forced me to surrender power and agency — but when I started reading tarot, I found a new way to move through the world.
The story of queerness in Uganda, bound as it has been to fictions about who we are and who we ought to be, is a story of resilience, love and community.
I am coming to believe that my body is where my knowledge of the Divine lives—even when intellectual belief in God eludes me. My body has known for years that to live it would have to change.
I could be anything, my mother taught me. I could be anyone I wanted. Except for being an atheist lesbian — that wasn’t really on the menu.
An autobiographical comic.
When Thanksgiving rolled around I spent all my money on alcohol, and was left eating potatoes every meal for two weeks.
I don’t think there was a specific cultural inception, but rather a percolation of various feminist ideals that bubbled over during the 1980s, the decade that female masculinity went mainstream.
I don’t think anyone looks at the introverted, disabled woman, and thinks she’s powerful. But my family chose to. They are the reason that I can pushback against the stereotypes society holds for a quiet blind woman, and assert my place in this world. They taught me to swim in the waves.
Astrology was too complicated. I decided to place my trust in Co–Star.
“I told myself that moving was not going to actually fix my life, that living in a different state didn’t mean that my personality was going to change. It wouldn’t fix my depression and anxiety. I told myself this, all the while secretly hoping this move did have the power to fix me, to break me down to an elemental level and rebuild me.”
This was the way we found power over pain: Move.
The tears came only after I thought about how cowardly I felt for denying my sexuality in order to fit in better, for how hurt and betrayed I felt that a group of marginalized people that I connected with so well would so easily marginalize me in return.
When I do hear Springsteen’s “4th of July, Asbury Park,” I won’t long for something I never had because I was born too late. I’ll let the song wash over me gently, wistful for all the people I knew who made the best of bad luck down the shore.
Considering the discomfort my friends and loved ones experience when we travel together, or when I share what I think are unremarkable experiences of microaggressions or discrimination, has helped me understand the degree to which I’ve normalized things that are not normal.
The entire time I was waiting for Tanja I was trying not to panic, but couldn’t help thinking: If we can’t find this screw, then how will I make it to the airport?