theprocess's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- what QS said thinking about what queerscribe said on 11.04.03 (in which theprocess attempts to process, or i don't know anything, but i'm trying): “Hate crime” is still a useful social concept, but one needing expansion. Because what happened to the guys in the article, and what happened to QS were “hate crimes”. Aren’t most “hate crimes” self hate directed outward? Crimes apparently motivated by shame and denial amped to psychotic levels—no, I can’t be that, can’t be gay/queer/bi/inclined to explore… Can’t risk the ostracism/distain/hatred/violence waiting outside the walls and barriers of societal conventions and religious taboos and meaningless notions of propriety and intimidating peer pressure imposed on all of us practically from conception. Did all that fear and guilt drive these guys to eliminate any possible witnesses to their “ lapse”-- by any means necessary? Is it about killing the person that represents the thing they feel they must kill in themselves? It’s not just manifesting between guys cruising, either. Read a really dismal statistic on the high incidence of abuse within lesbian relationships a while back. Wonder if that’s still true. It sorta makes sense that it would be like that. Men cruise; women cling- an overly-generalized grain of truth from which ten thousand clichés, stereotypes and bad jokes have bloomed. I’d like to trace back the tangly, jumbly roots of all that self-hate as it applies to everyone, including those who comfortably and firmly identify as straight—yet commit violence couched in sexual acts: rapists, molesters and other assorted power-tripping creeps. Because really. Creating self-hatred (and it’s milder cousin insecurity) is a cornerstone of our culture, and our economy, which are sort of the same thing. REALLY uncomfortable with the whole concept of any kind of “homosexual panic” defense, how it presumes that anything outside the heterosexual paradigm constitutes *cause* for panic and shifts the onus back onto the assault victim just as much as those “she asked for it, the slut; look at her clothes/tits/lifestyle” defenses that once allowed so many rapists to get away with murder. Combating shame while keeping your self safe. Hmmmm. I’m thinking it starts from a point of spiritual resolve, an internal process like PKat’s affirmation that she’s perfectly protected at all times. Or maybe (as I’m more inclined to do) it’s concluding that “safety” is kind of a fallacy, so beyond a few healthy precautions, you might as well not pursue it. It’s then going about your day being your Divine, authentic self. It’s seeking out joyful, life affirming experiences and surrounding your self with positive, supportive folks who, in their own fashion, are about the same thing. Because, honestly, random shit happens, and not all of it is going to feel like a blessing at the time, and there’s no hiding from it, so you might as well not bother with hiding at all. Supplemental: Re-read A LITANY FOR SURVIVAL by Audre Lorde. My Aunt J would say I just created a less-than-optimal reality with my “shit happens” statement. She’d do PKat’s affirmation and just leave it at that. And then there’s the idea that on some level we all choose the experiences we need to have in order to learn the certain lessons in each lifetime. ~~TheProcess wrestles her Inner Skeptic/Cynic to the floor and duct tapes the bitch’s mouth shut.~~ Okay. Still. It’s about not hiding, and just being as you are and doing as you do and making your very flesh a great poem (big up WALT!), and if enough people do that, eventually it will catch on, and everyone will be too busy with their own joy to mess up anyone else’s. ~~Hey. It could happen, said PollyannaProcess, polishing her rose colored glasses on the hem of her gingham dress.~~ ~~Skeptic/CynicProcess: Mmmmph! MMMMRMMPH!!! ~~ Trusting the Universe, and continuing, even after injury and tragedy, and in the face of discouraging mendacity, to remain open. “…absolute trust in the goodness of the earth....” Dang. Got my poem on today, or what? Blah, wank, blah. I have no answers, really. Except that authenticity feels ever so much better than extinction, and it’s a fucking infinite universe out there/in here, so we might as well prepare to be surprised at what shapes everyone’s authenticites take. I, for one, like surprises. I am also for shit. I have been so hiding. Behind parenting and my suburban façade and my only-child/loner tendencies and a spackled-over broken heart and won’t-go-away grief like a mourning veil. But I front real well. And that is some cowardly-assed shit, and what to fix. might even surprise myself. 12:13 PM - 11.12.2003 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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