Chicken Soup

Chicken soup.

The reminiscent taste of Ecuador.

Of the muddy mineral filled waters for bathing, the high altitude and thin air.

The cuy that were killed to tell us how to stay alive, a life taken to continue our taking.

The sound of the frogs and the feel of moist mornings.

Literally having small bugs feast on us.

The shaman connecting to the cosmos facilitated by the knowledgeable ayahuasca, the low whistling connecting us to the stars.

The water, the muddy, life giving water, and the rapids that could easily take life away.

The deep rest as I visited the forest in my dreams.

Chicken soup made from chicken bones, us no different than anything else.

Our bones made of earth, our blood made of water, our breath we all share.

Consuming chicken soup here and now in this specific place, my body remembers that soup in Ecuador, and everything I wasn't ready to listen to but spoke anyway.

Through memory, the land from there connects again.

And through this soup, it is time to listen.

Indigeneity (Revisited)

Because of my work in trying to decolonize so many of our oppressive systems and societies, I am often asked if I am Indigenous, or if I consider myself Indigenous. The answer to this question is complex, but the short answer is "not exactly."

See, I grew up very much with a strong understanding of and relationship to the land. This has much to do with the fact that my maternal grandmother spent the summers on a ranch in Northern Mexico, and the practices and customs that were a part of every day life were not exactly the most "European" or "American rancher" ones. Much of what I learned about respect for planet started by being raised by her in many ways.

Mexico has a complicated history with colonization. On one end, it is very proud of its mixed heritage. On the other end, we don't talk much about the gruesome bloodiness of colonization, and more importantly about the erasure of Indigenous societies. We also don't really like to mention that state sanctioned violence and oppression towards modern day living breathing Indigenous people is actually an enterprise that is alive and well in Mexico (and most of the planet).

So when asked if I consider myself Indigenous my longer response tends to be, no, I don't exactly identify myself as Indigenous. For me, the term Indigenous is very much a living term, very much tied to cultural practices and ways of life that are still being practiced. The term is not a relic of the past, it is not archaic, it is not to be romanticized, and it is not meant to promote cultural essentialism. The term Indigenous is also a political term.

I do however say that I am certain there is some sort of Indigenous influence in the culture I grew up in, and how I was raised, even if my family can't tie our roots to any one or two or three groups of people. I don't think my grandma realizes how much of her knowledge of plants, her connection to land, her strong dreams, her beliefs and values surrounding death and community are not something we inherited from European "conquistadores." These traditions and understandings however are not necessarily something that is valued over European world views in an active sense in modern day Mexico, at least in the border region that I know well. Lucky for me, that didn't stop my grandma from passing on this knowledge to anybody who would listen.

Instead of saying I'm Indigenous, I sort of view myself as a facilitator. I understand the importance of cultural connection, and I feel very fortunate to have grown up the way I did, in the gigantic family I did, and more importantly in the oral history traditions and understandings of nature I was surrounded by. So while I may not exactly feel comfortable being called Indigenous, or to call myself Indigenous, I do relate heavily to many Indigenous traditions around the world, and have had my fair share of experiences with dozens of cultures and ways of life in my short time on this earth. It's a no brainer to me why so many people hold connection to land so dear and valued.

I don't use the term Indigenous loosely out of a recognition that there are living modern day Indigenous cultures who are fighting to maintain their existence, belief systems, and ways of life. I do not want to take up any space within that fight that is not my own, and I want to learn how I can be a better accomplice in their struggles instead of calling that particular struggle my "own" oppression.

My own identity is complex, and my relationship to Indigeneity is even more complex. But I do find some "universal" truths that hold in all of this identity muddle. Our earth is in trouble. Which directly translates to we are in trouble. We have cultures and traditions that used their knowledge and understandings to coexist with the planet much more effectively than Western colonized society has. They may not have all the answers, but we need to listen to the humanity of those we continue to say we are supporting, but are actually still oppressing. We need to facilitate solutions that were designed within their own communities, and we need to not inject our voice when it is not our own lived experience. So although I am very certain that the things I believe in and the values I have take strong root in erased tribes of Northern Mexico, I still do not claim any of those tribes as my own. Instead, I see myself as a facilitator, a person who is very good at articulating deep thoughts and can change minds with one conversation. I am very connected to the land, and I understand I am usually a visitor to the land that I inhabit all around. So while I may not claim to be Indigenous, be assured that I am not only passionate about decolonization, but I am more driven to change my own ways of thinking. And that begins with one easy action: listening. And that is what I always strive to do more of.

Comfort in not knowing

I quit my job in late November. Right after Indigenous Massacre Day, or as a friend put it Thanksfortaking Day.

I'm once again in a spot where I have not much of a clue of what comes next, who I will meet, or what types of opportunities will present themselves. I do however feel very different this time.

I feel that it was time for a change for me, and I'm finally comfortable enough to pursue this change without telling myself that I need to be "financially stable" or need to do the same shit I'd been doing (office jobs) to somehow magically "make it" and be more "successful." This time I've come to realize how this "successful" culture in the U.S. (and other places) is actually toxic and mentally degrading, and is built off oppressing others in order to relinquish capital and hoard it for yourself. The whole "if I don't take it first, someone else will" mentality which prevails so heavily in the U.S., yeah I'm kinda over it.

This time though, I feel like I've FINALLY broken away from this. I've finally come to worry less about work and finding a job, and using this free "time off" to reevaluate what it is I ACTUALLY want to do, and the main reason I want to do it: for myself.

I'm giving my body the opportunity to speak to my mind again, to understand that the path I had before of the bureaucracy and trying to fit into the capitalist model of success and being scared that not having a job with all these "benefits" means I haven't "made it," yeah, all of those thoughts are being purged. And the best part about it is I'm not necessarily actively trying to push those thoughts out and consciously getting stressed about it. It means I just let my body process the emotions and lingering stress (from over many years), and do things like take long walks, drink some coffee, allow myself to just think and be creative, and leave my mind open to opportunities and ideas of what I'd like to do next.

I do know for sure that plants are for me. So everything else will revolve around that idea. I'm done not working with plants on a regular basis. I need nature as much as it needs me, so this is the main goal, the main objective, the main focus moving forward. How I accomplish this, and how this plays out will very much be a quintessentially Ainan carve your own path kind of thing, but this is the goal, and I'm making decisions that forward this goal.

I've found comfort and solace in not knowing because I've learned to appreciate the simple things in life. No health insurance? Well I eat LOTS of fruits and veggies, exercise a lot, and maintain a very low level of stress, if at all, and that is my medicine for now. Since I don't have any chronic illnesses or children or things like that, I'll be okay without health insurance from an employer where you have to sit on your ass for large parts of the day which increases your chances of sickness anyway.

I finally feel at peace that I've decided I wanted to leave the system, want to stay away from higher ed office jobs and politics (and only work in a consulting role or loose professorship if I ever enter "higher" ed again), and that my learning is now going to come more from life and passionate, knowledgeable people versus prescribed knowledge systems based on bureaucracy and hierarchies. A bureaucracy managed by idiots more concerned with self preservation, receiving meaningless accolades, and building excessive amounts of capital than they are concerned with actual learning and teaching people how to grow into themselves better.

It's amazing how much like plants we are, and how much learning and teaching are exactly like caring for plants. When you nurture and respect, and allow the plant to flourish as who they are, they amaze you with their beauty. If you prescribe their growth and force them to grow one way, then you get a bunch of cookie cutter plants that are significantly less nutritious, don't taste good, and don't inspire art and beauty. Thinking in this way is much less metaphorical for me, and is more literally how I think about people interactions.

So I don't want to be part of that problematic system anymore, and I don't want to buy into the idea that I can go into the system and "make it" work for people like me when those systems were inherently build to actively exclude and oppress people like me. I am not a martyr, and I do not work with rage and anger, nor do I fight fire with fire (that's insane). And with that realization, there is an inherent freedom and knowing that now I can step away from the worry and fear or not being "successful" because that definition of success was never for me anyway. I will still be successful in my own way (and I already feel like I am), and I know moving forward I am going to be much much happier because I finally can recognize that any pressure or worry to "be successful" is all side chatter that is not coming from me, and so I can focus on myself again. The best relationship I have is the one I have with myself. I'm excited about expanding this relationship with myself moving forward, and walking into one of the experiences I know the best: continuing to grow as a person.

Catharsis

Haci como lo he dicho antes, escribo para sanar.

I have been to hell and back this week, and I am still very much in the healing process.

I didn't realize how much I had been coping with. Not living, not enjoying, literally just coping.

My life had been changing myself and retreating within entirely for protection, and to feel some sense of security, which I knew was a false sense at best.

Toxic environment, that's the best way I can explain it. Like being a clean river, a beautiful ocean, and others pumping oil into to you, telling you at the same time it is for your own good.

I decided I was going to leave that environment, and I was tired of being angry. Once I started feeling like someone was standing on my chest as soon as I entered that environment and no matter what I did to try and escape it, the intense tightness remained. I began to hate it there, hate it all. And I knew the problem wasn't me, and that you also can't burn out my fire with trying to use fire against me.

So in my calculating way, the way I used to do it as a child, I devised an escape plan. Those who know me, who really know who I am, know that feeling unsafe is something I am very well versed in, for better or worse. Having to escape a belligerent drunk father and ensure I didn't make him more belligerent, or having adults tell me to do things because it's what I was "supposed" to do, gave me some handy life skills for making sure I can maintain my sanity, and escape as needed.

I knew that as soon as I said I was leaving, they were going to hound me, one person was going to try to make my life a living hell. So I left as cleanly and swiftly as possible, and I got out with the intention never to return. I couldn't stop thinking, this is what escaping Stockholm syndrome must feel like. I felt all sorts of emotions, all at once, but the biggest one was relief.

My body still shakes every so often, and I've ensured that I stay social and hang out with my good friends more to keep me social as well as remind me that I'm pretty fucking awesome. When someone tries to break your spirits, it does a number on you, but when you can break free from that and grow from it, then it's a good (but super painful and hard) life lesson to have undergone.

The whole experience can be summed up in one word: petty.

So I decided I was done being manipulated, having my words being used against me, them telling me I was the problem without turning the mirrors onto themselves first, and them thinking that they could break me.

It's not "over" as it will take some time to heal and process, and be okay. But I know how to do self care, and talking about it openly, writing out how I'm feeling, being social with friends, and reconnecting to my personal and deep relationships I have is a step in the right direction.

The nicest part is knowing that I'm going to be okay, I'm a survivor, and that after it's all said and done, I'm gonna be a stronger person because of it and more me than I have ever been. Here's looking to the future and staying hopeful and knowledgeable that it'll hold great things for me. Life is too short, and life is for living.

Las calabazas

Allí estan, las calabazas. Cocinados en su jugito, como los hacian los ancianos, nuestros antepasados por miles de años.

And that's how it went. The squash I grew up with, eating so much of, and liking despite the faces I made as a young child because it wasn't cool to like vegetables.

My great grandma used to cook and cook and cook. There was always a pot of caldo, y tortillas recien hechas, at her house. If it was holiday time, there were tamales, and probably a turkey somewhere.

I remember all my great grandmothers and grandmas for their cooking. It wasn't until fairly recently that I began to "surpass" them in flavors, and only because my life experiences had taken me all over the world, experiences they could not have, but they were the ones who taught me anyway without ever having to say much.

My great grandma used to make calabazas, easy. Cut up some squash, onions, tomatoes, corn, a bit of salt. Then drop some grated cheese in there, roll up some fresh tortilla, and that was dinner. I had that so much growing up, sometimes with a side of beans. Sweet, simple, and nourishing, especially during the winter months where the cold of the desert can be unforgiving late at night.

Food is tied to emotion. That's why I love it so much, that's why I cook it so much. Everything I make is to create memories, to relive old ones, to aspire to future ones, and to be present in the moment, all at once.

It makes me think of all my firsts. The first time I tasted well water in Mexico, and never having tasting water that fresh and sweet in my life. Wishing I could cook with and drink that water forever. The first time I had a fish steamed in leaves from the Amazon, the first time I had a digestive biscuit in London, the first time I had a proper miso soup my host mom had made, the first time I had a ripe dragonfruit that made my mouth water, the first time I had peaches in Texas that were the right juiciness and sweetness, the first time I had wakame in soup, the first time I tried Tsushima rock salt, the first time I had kimchi in Korea, the first time I had blue pozole, the first time I drank pinole, the first time I tasted really good wine, the first time I taught my baby sister to make cookies, the first time I made chiles en nogada, and the list goes on and on and on.

Food is cultural, food is something we experience, and the foods I have tried all over the planet tie those memories down for me. Though the food gets digested and eventually pooped out, the flavors stick in my mind. The things I was doing cement themselves in my consciousness, and those memories live on. If I smell something familiar that reminds me of a past experience all over the planet, I am instantly taken there, and the flood of memories and emotions can be intense. Sometimes tear inducing. Even watching something related to food in a show, like someone trying seaweed for the first time, takes me back, locates me back in that place where I was, back to what I was doing in that place in time.

The first time I tried sugar water pressed from sugarcane in the Amazon, my first broth made with Tsushima shiitake mushrooms, eating mikan fresh from the trees in the grove in Tsutsu overlooking the ocean, picking lemons from the school tree in Costa Rica to make lemonade, fresh tacos de tripa I would drench in salsa all around the streets of Juarez growing up, the elotero driving by our house, the tortilleria down the street and how we'd lay out all the tortillas on the table with my stepdad's mom so they wouldn't stick, the flour tortilla place down the street, the hamburguesa joint that put avocado and extra mostasa but no mayonnaise for me, las enchiladas de la iglesia friadas con todo y la salsa. The first time I had proper sushi on my first day with my host family in Japan, and the first time I learned how to make a curry from scratch. The first time I had roti from Gloria's in Brooklyn in New York, that African place on the main street, the fries from the East Side, and that time I made miso soup for the first guy I had ever been with. The first time I made mole from scratch in my tiny apartment in Tsushima, the first time I grew jalapeño plants from seed and could not stop staring at how green they were.

That time we had spicy burn your guts out curry on our last night in Ecuador, the fresh chicken soup made right there at the shop, that sugar alcohol drink given away freely up in the mountains, my first time tasting maracuya, my love for pejiballe in Costa Rica, and the simple gallo pinto they served at the school I helped at. Honey pineapple in O'ahu, black bread in Germany, raclette for dinner, mohnpielen for dessert, the burnt wheat toast my grandma would spread refried beans and cheese on that tasted so good.

The flavors of Mexico in apple soda, tamarindo, tepache, toronja, jamaica, horchata, pistachio ice cream, paletas de helado de fruta fresca, and my most favorite sweet bread of all time, the marranito. Making tamales over holidays, that one time my family worked the masa, and we all spread out the chile rojo and verde into the little masa pockets before wrapping them up and steaming them for dinner. Cold weather and warm food. How I used to hate the texture of that milk film that collected on the top of champurrado, but dealt with it because it was delicious. Those were my happy memories of the church. Menudo once I picked out the meat, bizcochos sprinkled with cinnamon and powdered sugar, and ronpope and calientitos. Capirotada, maizena which I always thought was just meh, and the never ending pots and plates of mole.

Kaki straight from the trees of my cab drivers, daikon from my schools, spinach from the farmer's market, and rice right from the island, grown right in the fields next door with some soy sauce and grilled over an open fire. Ramen super late at night in Kyoto when we decided we would just ditch class the next day anyway, ramen noodles handed over to us in a paper wrapping that my host grandma had made fresh. That broth and saltiness would make me have sweet dreams for days. The first time I had matcha at the temple, the first time I had fried natto wrapped in shiso. The first time I had a pineapple pico de gallo, the first time I had a shot of mezcal from a bottle given to my grandma from her dad when my uncle was born over 40 years ago, a great grandpa I would never meet. Mazapan and spicy tamarindo candy, mochi filled with anko, fresh mochi made on New Year's and served with that sweet honey sauce, spicy garlic shrimp from Fumi's, and Selena's famous lemon poppy seed cake.

There is a long list of memories and a plethora of flavors that are meticulously catalogued in my mind, that I have experienced in my lifetime, and will continue to experience new flavors. One time my roommate came home and brought a salsa that her friend had made. She asked me to taste it and tell her what I thought was in it. I listed every ingredient in that delicious salsa because I could taste everything and knew that they had been meshed well. That's what my memories are like. Individually they are all the ingredients that make up a delicious dish. Collectively, they create a stew, a sauce, a salsa, a dish that leaves you in awe, a dish that becomes better with time, and makes you want to experience more and find other ways to enhance that dish. It reminds you to be grateful to be alive because you have the privilege of being present in the moment. Memory soup, that's what nourishes me time and time again, and the vehicle of that nourishment is the food I consume.

I Write to Heal

There is one person that has likely influenced my life the most, and that is my mother. Before you stop reading, just know that this is not going to be a sappy oh my god, I have the best mother ever, thank you so much for life kind of post. That's not my style, and this post will not be in the celebratory happy mothers day kind of feel. Emotions in my blood run much much deeper than that, likely a reason we don't give gifts in my family. Our existence is the gift.

I think about gender, I think about gender A LOT. More than most people I think, and it drives a lot of who I am and how I conceptualize the world. I do this because I was never taught gender growing up, it was a very confusing concept to me.

In many ways, I'm sort of glad my dad was absent for my early years, and that my mother was so protective of letting me just be my own kind of kid while at the same time kicking me to the "streets" a lot in order to help me become a better, tougher, more adaptable person.

The reason gender in our modern society confuses (and infuriates) me so damn much, is because I never grew up with women who were women, or women who I thought of as men. I grew up with women who were people before they were gendered bodies.

My mom, and especially my grandma have always served as huge role models for me. I think the fact that we are all so alike, we clash we clash hard, and this means we don't talk to each other for days, weeks, months, (not quite years). Despite this lack of direct communication, I always feel my grandma and mom as a part of me. I am them, they are me, and that link is strong, unbreakable.

Don't get me wrong, there are a lot of things my mom and especially my grandma do that I just can't understand. I don't blame them though, colonial and especially religious ways of thoughts run deep, and when those ideas are institutionalized, any sort of digression gets called crazy. As much as we say being called crazy doesn't bother us and we're gonna do it anyway, well, years of that can really drag, it can really start to fuck with you, but we always find the strength somewhere.

I'm glad I left home so young, learned another (third) language, and sort of just spread my wings and flew. And oh dear, did I fly (and continue to). It was good because I got to apply those morals, that gumption, that desire to be alive, and that willingness to experience it all and learn from it; my mom and grandma taught me all of that.

My mom, my grandma, and I fight. We fight a lot. So much so, that putting us in the same room can be intense, and a mistake most of the time. On the same note, when we do have our good moods (and we are very moody people), we will literally shake the house with our laughter and presence. We are those people that you notice, and we are those people you never forget.

Moving back to gender, I never saw my grandma or mom as women. And this is because in the very conservative society we were raised in, my mom and grandma never did the things that society had told women they had to do. They weren't just strong willed women, they were women who would tell men no to their face, laugh at them, and then go do whatever they wanted to do anyway. If my grandma didn't like the work my grandpa did on her house, she would take a sledgehammer and do it herself. In fact, this past time I was living with her (yikes!), she was basically restructuring her house from scratch the way she had "always" wanted it. Sledgehammer, carrying brick by brick to make a walkway, mixing concrete. People called her crazy, I called her self-sufficient (okay, I also call her crazy, but not for her drive).

I learned to respect bodies, not just women, but all bodies. As chunky as I was as a kid, I never remember my mom making me feel bad about my body, not once. I distinctly remember here being very calm and open when she would talk to me about my body, and she always made sure to remind me that it was my body, and it would tell me what it needed. I also remember my mom wearing what others would deem "inappropriate," but my mom loves her body, so that didn't matter one bit to her. My grandma is the same. Women's bodies are not to be policed, not to be sexual objects for men to glut off and think about how they can take advantage of them. Their bodies were their bodies. The only times I would remember that the world problematizes women's bodies was when my mom or grandma would stand in front of a man and say this is my body motherfucker, and would stare them down and assert themselves. That is a strength in asserting yourself and telling the world that you, and you alone own your body. And when women themselves policed my mom or grandma's body, the assertion and the message was even more clear, it was always a fuck you, how can you tell me what my body should look like, and what I should do with my body when you yourselves are policed on a daily basis and know what that feels like. The same stare down, the same assertion, and the same sense of self worth that was unshakeable, undeniable, and the message that they inhabited their body and had all the say in how they wanted to "display" and use it throughout their lives would be theirs. I have never known my mom to go along with anyone objectifying her body and just not say anything to that person's face and make it very clear not to fuck with her. My mother can be VERY intimidating. I am thankful that my mom has raised my sisters in this same fashion, and they are empowered and know how to love their bodies and not take anybody's shit. This is the same way I feel about my body, it is mine, it is beautiful, and I am my body, nobody elses, so nobody else can tell me how to live within my body. That is solely my decision to make.

My mom, she cuts grass, and works on her Jeep if needed. She goes to the beach by herself, and takes road trips whenever she can because that women loves to be out of the house. She forgets she has kids sometimes (and occasionally leaves us food at home, but rarely), and teaches us that life is for living, not worrying.

At the same time, my grandma will sew and cut fabric for hours. Everything has to be to the T, and everything has to measure up. My mom will spend hours having deep conversations with people, and figure out little ways on how to make people's lives easier. She adds sunshine to otherwise "hopeless" situations. Though people would likely classify this as "feminine," I always saw this as something that anybody could do. You don't have to be gendered to be a decent person.

Don't forget our connection to nature. I can't count the amount of days I have spent outdoors with my mother and grandma, by the river, outside in a park, traveling with the windows down, or just being outdoors. We LOVE being outdoors, and we have a strong connection to nature that we nourish, and it nourishes us.

I never saw my mom and grandma as women. I saw them as strong empowered people. The only time they were told they were women was when they were to question a man. All the things my grandma and mom did were normal for those people who had penises. Of course, the people I grew up with who had penises tended to be emotionally distant, could not cook for a rat's ass, and were just so full of themselves with their head up their ass, that I never related to them in the sense of that's who I wanted to become. If becoming a man meant being a jerk to women, having such a fragile ego, and always having to assert how much of a "non-women" you were, then I didn't want to have anything to do with that world (and still don't).

And so my mom had given me the basic tools I needed to carve out a life for myself. I learned that the best way to figure out more about who I was was to throw myself out into the world, and so I did. I've had, and continue to have, rich and unrepeatable experiences, and have met some amazing people along that way in which our lives have become richer because we share them. I've come to understand that everything in life is transitional.

So then I came to get to know myself. Once I met other free spirited people, realized that [modern] culture can be so restrictive, and so much is just surface level, then I started to realize that I was just like my mother (and grandma). Make your own kind of story kind of person, don't let anybody tell you no, especially your blood relatives, and do what you want. Make LOTS of mistakes because that's how you'll learn, and in my case, keep writing and documenting.

As I started to study, started to go into lots of older traditions, met some very wise people, recognize how convoluted our modern societies are and come to understand what gender really means, I began to recognize that my own gender is quite interesting indeed. I don't identify as male, or female. I identify as Ainan, an identity I've developed for myself. As much shit as my family might give me because they've been cultured to say that people like me are crazy and confused, I am more stubborn than that. I think by this time I've shown to my family that I am who I am, I am not crazy, I am true to myself, and if they don't agree, it's not going to matter to me, and they respect me for that, and in turn I hope that I also inspire them to be more themselves.

I know it's going to take a while for my mom to understand that I do not want to "be male" as defined by these rigid rules, and that I don't want to be her "son" but more her child, or offspring. Because I know that when she thinks of me, she sees me as the whole person I am, and I am almost certain that in her parent mind, I am not male or female, I am just me. She could care less what people tell me my body is, she just hopes that I am happy, and I am. That's how I see my body, and that is how I wish others saw it too, but I know there is still so much work in our world before we can even have a glimmer of hope of getting there.

So I know it's hard for her to really understand and grasp when I say I'm not your fucking son, and fuck gender, and I REALLY mean it, and when I get so uppity when she says something about gender roles to my siblings or (unintentionally) perpetuates some type of stereotype with them that I catch and go off on her like a hot firework. She taught me that, to tell it like you see it, even if it is to the person who taught you to be so self-expressive. I can't tell you how many times I have yelled at my mother, and her at me, and how much better our relationship has become over the years because of this crude and unapologetic honesty.

So when I think about asserting myself, and the population of students I am "tasked" (and would do for free anyway) for looking over and advocating for, I am very vocal in my "let's look at this from an organizational perspective and see how we are perpetuating certain values we say we're against at the same time" kind of way. I am not afraid to call people out, and I am not afraid to be called out, it's part of my charm, and it's where I have pushed farther than my grandma and my mother in this life. They taught me how to yell strategically, how to use my smarts and charm to accomplish more, and how to not let anyone hinder my real values and perseverance, and to facilitate the process of allowing a voice for those who are kept silent.

I live in my own world, in my mind. Luckily, I've met a good handful of people who also inhabit this own world, and some very intelligent people recently who I would call family. Where gender is not binary, where people are considerate and respect self-determination, and where the world is surprisingly (and this is only surprising if you're an idiot) less complicated with much more diversity.

And so as I have my intellectual conversations with people, as I argue, and as I go all mama lion on administrators, coworkers, and friends when they make unintentionally stupid remarks, I think of how my mom (and grandma) showed me how to do all of this. They did not tell me, they showed me. They did it by living as themselves in a society that told them they are less because of their bodies, that the fact that they possess vaginas makes them somehow inferior. Despite that, I always liked them better than the people with penises in my life anyway.

I took after them, and as scary as it was to look into myself, I kept doing it, and I continue to do it. My mom and grandma taught me that you have to push, push hard, and when you think you can't do it anymore, push harder, or just jump. So I did, and I do. As I evolve, as I have more life experiences, become more "educated" (mainly outside the classroom), I have those strong, stubborn, dedicated mom and grandma that have inspired me to be so damn myself, and to never fear that.

This is why I changed my name (all of them), why I left town so young, why I allow myself to come into myself, and why I go with the flow of who I am and what I need. That tends to inspire others, but honestly, I do it for me first. The more I grow myself, the more rewarding I find building stronger relationships with all types of people more valuable. I think it's because the more I get to know about myself, the more I learn, the easier it is to relate to other people, even those I would likely strongly disagree with. I mean, we're all in this together, so even if we can't get along (which is not likely anyway), at the very least we can empathize with where people come from, and build from there. Hell, it's how my mom, grandma, and I can barely stand each other, but how we keep strong by thinking about each other at the same time. We need each other, and just because that need does not express itself in "conventional, respectful" ways, doesn't make our bond and relationship any less valid, or any less strong.

So I write this as I think about gender a lot. As I think about how I do not identify with nor want to be included into a gender binary system (I've always had this feeling, but only recently have been able to articulate it), I realize that there are so many aspects of my mother and grandma that live within me. They were the original rebels of the system that taught me we were not rebels, it was a label that was placed on us to objectify us and make us think we were crazy so we would not question the oppressive structures that seeked to control our minds and bodies and just give up and give in. We are not rebels, we are people, should be treated and respected as such, and should treat and respect others as such as well. The fact that we are so self determined, so in tune with who we are, and respect every aspect of ourselves, means we can relate to other people, and respect them for their own respective journeys, and are able to learn from each other. We're not the people that step into your life and leave you unchanged, and we are moved by others just as much. I write to heal, I write to express, I write to articulate, and I have put in type what I wanted to say.

Indigeneity

**Please also view my most recent post: Indigeneity (revisited)

Indigenous, what a complex and super political word. It's been coopted, politicized, and misused, and particularly by settler colonial peoples.

This word is rife with conflict and complexity within me as well. Conflict on the one end because I feel a strong sense of belonging and connection to the land similar to the Indigenous people I have met all over the world over my lifetime, yet I am not part of any recognized tribe. Complexity because what it means to be indigenous gets lost in translation, and gets even more complicated when attaching loyalty, morality, culture, policy, and language to this term. I'm going to attempt to flush this out in this post, let's see how it goes.

I've always felt a strong attachment to nature, a strong resonation with the land. Everywhere I go, the first thing I notice is the natural world around me, the way the trees sway, what types of flowers are blooming, the types of stories told, how languages and cultures have developed to make sense of the surrounding nature, and especially the people's recognition of the plants around them. I've always seen the world as living, the plants, the bugs, the water, the sky, the clouds, the air, all of that has always been alive to me.

It's a complex history we have in my immediate family. I grew up with stories of how the earth cared for my family, how it was alive, how nature watched over us, and how lots of things we couldn't explain always seemed to work out for us. To say my family "gets lucky" is an understatement. I don't think it's that though, I think we just listen. It's amazing how much the trees tell you things, how much the scents in the air can tell you to come closer or to stay away or to flee, and our deep sense of intuition is something I was taught at an early age to cultivate and to trust.

But we also grew up with the Catholic church. We also grew up in a colonial world that told us that the old ways in which we found to be helpful and connecting were witchcraft, not part of "god's" way, and were nothing but superstitions. I'm not talking about those pretty ridiculous superstitions that a lot of Mexicans growing up had, like the egg under the bed, or the "ojo" or shit like that. I'm talking about the fact that in my family, at times we would have overwhelming urges to leave somewhere, and suddenly a few minutes later, terrible things in the area would happen. I'm talking about it not raining in the desert for months until the day my mom decides she has to go home for a quick visit. Or having dreams about loved ones and death, and being so spot on, it's terrifying how accurate your dreams are at first. This takes getting used to, because we were told by society that we were insane, we should be pathologized, that there was no way of knowing what we knew, and that "god" and the church (i.e. indoctrination) were the only holders of truth.

Though we never really bought into that my siblings, mom, and I, it still had tremendous impacts on our lives. I wish my mom and I could have talked more openly about it when I was growing up. But those types of intuitive conversations were steeped in fear, steeped in protection because as much as we like to think staking witches are a thing of the past, there are very real social ostracization implications for saying that you just trust the earth and it takes care of you. Mainly, you're deemed insane, and nobody takes you serious. So we learn how to be more selective in our storytelling.

But I've never been a good listener of others telling me how I should feel, or what I should think. Actually, I would say I'm pretty terrible at taking other people's word for things. If I haven't experienced it myself, then I'm less likely to take it at face value when it's coming out of a person's mouth. That has a lot to do with why I've lived in so many places. I never wanted people to tell me what experiences in other places were like, I wanted to experience it for myself. Even now, I see how my perceptions and attitudes differ from others when thinking about what life in other cultures and places has taught them. Most people get really good at having one great experience, and then riding that out for the rest of their lives. Oh I lived in _____ for ___ years, and blah blah blah, this is how things are forever and always, and you can't call me out on it because you've never lived there.

So what does this all mean to indigeneity? Well, a professor I've started reading more of, and watching more videos about uses the terms "relationality" and "resurgence." The idea being that with resurgence, all the knowledge that we seek, know exists but have difficulty accessing, is there within us, and all around us. And it is connected to the idea of how we relate to everything around and within us. For me, that's a no-brainer, that's how I've always lived, and I learned how to navigate the brain washing systems without being brainwashed by them in the process. But for others, and this is demonstrated by all the problems we call problems that aren't actually problems because we created them and can just as easily "uncreate" them, this idea is not so easy to grasp.

This professor says that you don't have to be Indigenous to have an Indigenous way of thinking and world view. I agree, but at the risk of sounding like I'm coopting the word and falling to colonial settler mindframes myself, let me flush this agreement out a bit more.

For me, it's about understanding your place, your physical presence in space, your location within existence, and how that relates to everything else. It's first learning who you are as the first step in how you relate to everything else. This isn't some meta hippie bullshit, this is real practical ideas you can apply to daily life. It means allowing yourself to learn about yourself. Most people want some sort of guide, some sort of outside authority telling them how they can best discover "themselves" and one true path on how to discover who they really are. This is how the church does it, this is how peer pressure works, this is how oppressive nation states are built. They tell you you must listen to "god's" [the country's] teachings [as defined by the church/state] to find the true light to yourself and to the kingdom of "heaven," [freedom] and if you continue to donate to them [or fight for freedom], [and overlook the pedophilia of the Catholic church, and massive human rights violations of pretty much all nation states], and allow yourself to continue being indoctrinated by the whole system, then you'll be given this magical key of knowledge at some point to discover what the true meaning of life is, what your true purpose is, and who you really are.

Of course, they never tell you that this quest will never be accomplished, and you will die without knowing any of this, and this is how things should be, we should never truly know anything about ourselves, because only "god" [the state] can know this, and god does not share information in this model. This is not only how the church work, this is how nation states are built, how sports function as a social phenomena that reinforce violence, and how peer pressure in a capitalist system keeps us scared enough to never question it while at the same time brain washes us into thinking that if we just buy enough things and have enough money, we can escape this circle of oppression. What they don't tell you is that you've been thrown into the current without a life vest, and the more you drown, the more you think you have a chance of surviving. What they don't tell you is that nobody that is not you can ever truly discover who you are, nobody that is not you can ever fully experience your life fully, and understand how you are connected to all else.

This is dramatically different from what this professor is talking about resurgence and relationality, at least how I understand it. Resurgence is this idea that you can and do know yourself. If society can provide you just a bit of guidance, not in the sense of self help books or products you can purchase, but in the sense of encouragement, acknowledgement, and patience, then you can figure out who you are. And figure out who you are in relation to time, not as a stagnant being that will be a cog in a system and serves only one function and purpose in society, but as a dynamic player in society, and more importantly, a dynamic part of the entire earth and the space we inhabit. You begin to understand your fluidity, and begin to understand that the ways in which you change are also the ways in which you grow, and when you grow you learn more about yourself. It is not about comfort and being able to find your one true calling you can be for the rest of eternity, it is about jumping into the unknown, making a fuckton of mistakes, and learning so much in the process. And most importantly of all, it is about connecting with everything, and understanding the impacts and consequences even your most miniscule of actions can have. It is then about understanding your relationality to everything else. Recognizing that you are not a solitary being whose decisions do not have an impact on others, you are a connected piece of existence that is extremely powerful and influential, especially when you allow yourself to develop as a person, as an existent being.

The professor also discussed that for Indigenous people, they have learned much of that knowledge because of their long times and connections to the physical land. It makes sense. In order to survive for millenia, and to thrive in climates and territories the world over, we must adapt, must change, must allow our understandings to be fluid and to move with time. I think the main thing I liked about her writing and lecture video was this underpinning sense that Native peoples are not "ancient" and "from the past" or "archaic," they are peoples with rich understandings of the locations they inhabited for so long, and know so much about the earth and cosmology that can benefit us all as a species if we would only allow them their sovereignty and space to actively engage with all of that. Native people's are alive.

You don't have to be Indigenous to have an indigenous world view, this professor says. This is true, but I fear this will get misconstrued by so many. Most people want to claim some sort of "authenticity" in culture, and most people do this because they want some sort of cultural, political, or monetary entitlement to something. It is selfish and coopting of what these words really mean. To me, it means that I am not special, I am just as much a person as the next, and I have skills and life experiences that are just as valid, just as diverse, and just as beneficial to everyone as the person next to me. It means that I can understand that although I am not a recognized member of any tribe, I don't need to be in order to understand my own connection to the planet, and my own connection to myself, how all my actions have profound impacts, and how all of that relates to the broader scheme of the universe and existence.

It means that I can learn from stories that are not my own, indeed I have, and not coopt them in the learning process to claim I am "more authentic" than someone else who has a different story. It means that when I go out into the woods, I don't have to belong to a certain subgroup of people to understand that the trees are alive, that the winds know how to sing, and that the sky is vast and beautiful. It means the sensations on my body when I swim in the ocean are ways that are real to me, and are ways that help me think about and process my place on the earth. It means that all the sensations I feel, my deep emotions, my logical understandings, my passions, my hopes and dreams, are all part of who I am. It means that I can be a whole person even when I still have so much to learn, in fact that's what makes me a whole person, and that I know that discomfort is a sign of an opportunity for learning. It means that I know that I am alive, and that my body isn't regulated by the authorities just because they said so. It means that I live in many generations, thinking of all the people before me who have gotten us to this point, all the people alive I share breaths of air with on this planet, and future unborn generations and how my choices and awareness will impact their quality of life later

As I get better at allowing myself to speak to myself and listening to my physical body, the more I can connect to who I am, the better I am at connecting with others, and the rest of the planet and all of nature in the process. That is the beginning of what having an Indigenous world view without having to be "Indigenous" means to me. It is far from mystical, far from magical, and far from making claims of "authenticity" to say my worldview is better than another. It's simply creating a space for a resurgence of the knowledge I carry and have carried, and allowing the time, patience, discomfort, and understanding to come into myself, as much as that may change throughout my lifetime. It's really as simple as that. So please stop coopting Native culture, and figure out who you are first.

The lecture I used as inspiration for this post is:

Wilson, Alex (Dr.). (2016). Indigenous resurgence, body sovereignty and gender self-determination. Weweni Indigenous Scholars Speakers Series. University of Winnipeg. Online YouTube video can be found at:
(YouTube video link)

Unapologetically Me

Today was an interesting day. Being back at work doing the "same old thing," but feeling really different after the SOGI course gave me some perspective, some more insight in to what it was I really learned.

I got to experience the living breathing human side of culture and society. I got to remember what it felt like to be me.

It gave me perspective because it also made me realize the importance of being myself. I get in trouble, I get in "trouble" a lot. People like me are very unapologetically themselves, and understand that the systems weren't built for them, and so they find ways around things. Then they become fearless, and then the risks become high, but the desire to give a shit becomes less.

I live for myself. That's never going to change. If I can't do that, then I'd miss out on so much this short short life has to offer. All that professional development, career building, working your fucking ass off, and following rules designed to inhibit your creativity. So much of it becomes meaningless if you lose yourself in the process. One thing I'm terrible at is ignoring my inner voices, ignoring what I really want, and more so ignoring my passions. I am loud, I am vibrant, I have this energy that is intense and for many people overwhelming. I laugh at the most inappropriate times, and I am usually always smiling, and cracking inappropriate jokes (I get it from my family). I have an insatiable zest for life and love, and I don't let the petty get in the way.

I can be intimidating because I am me. I am that person that the system tells to be quiet, tells us that we should be good citizens and contribute, but does not acknowledge us as people. I am the kind of person that others actively try to exploit for their knowledge, power, expertise, and energy, and rarely think that maybe, just maybe, it'd be nice for me to receive some energy and laughter in return.

I am that person that is so me, I come off as self absorbed when you first meet me, "too much" to handle, and like maybe you can't connect to me in the ways you thought. I have a very healthy amount of self love.

Then you spend time with me.

Then I quickly become that person you can't stop thinking about. That one who inspired you to laugh out loud and say fuck norms and demeanor. That person that makes you realize all the ways in which you are being oppressed, but also all the ways in which you can begin to break those chains. And most of the time, I do this by simply being myself. Of course, I am very humble about all of this (not).

My drive, my passion for learning, my appetite for knowledge, my genuine desire to make the world a less stupid place, my ability to adapt to most situations, is too much for people to handle a lot of the time. But I don't care.

Me being too much and not conforming in the ways you think I should, that says more about the social mores and norms that encompass your psyche than the free spirit and relatively care freeness that encompasses mine.

So here I am, back in this place full of so many unspoken norms and politics. So suffocating and inhibiting.

Yet I thrive. I'm like a weed. A weed that breaks through the concrete. A weed that you keep spraying pesticides on again and again and again. But I thrive. I break through the cracks, I sprout my tiny little leaves, and I push through the cement.

And I bloom. My flowers come out, and then you wonder why you ever tried to kill that weed in the first place. You contemplate why you allowed yourself to believe others that weeds are something that should be destroyed. You wonder why you ever assumed that having a colorless green lawn was something you thought you should aspire to. You are disappointed that you never questioned the messages society fed you and you believed them because that's what you are supposed to do.

You stare at that flower from the weed, and you just think: Wow, that weed sure didn't give up, and look at it now, being all beautiful and not giving a fuck.

So here I am, in a society that was not built for people like me. Not willing to let me shine, because they are used to their bland colors. They expect life to be miserable so that it can be over faster. And here I am showing them that life can be lived fully. It's not about being happy or "successful," life is about living, taking it all in. It really is that simple.

And They Laughed

You get on the plane, as you have likely 100 times or more. It doesn't feel particularly different this time, but you're traveling to a place you had never been before.

Planes canceled, okay. You get the next plane, takes forever to get to your hotel. Sleep for literally a few hours then off to meet a friend.

First night meet up with some other folks and you don't even consider that you've never met before. They're like family, we've known each other for so long, because we are each other.

First day of class, infectious laughter everywhere all before lunch. This is gonna be a fun course you think. Fun however, is only the tip of what's to come.

And they laugh. We go out for drinks and celebrate being together. And we laugh. So hard our guts explode, and it actually hurts. But it's been so long since we've all felt this way, even longer since we've met other people who laugh as much as we do.

See, for a lot of us we're the passionate ones. We're the crowd movers, the instigators, the fearless jumpers. Many of the times though, we are alone in this journey. People rely on us for support because they find extreme comfort in our strength.

This group was different though. We empowered each other, because we are each other. We laughed and stayed positive because we know what it's like to always have to be the happy person who makes others laugh. For at least two weeks though, we could live within each other's collective laughter.

I get my laugh from my dad and my mom. They are loud, and the life of the party. They don't understand what sadness is because most of the time they are super fun loving, insane, and could care less about most things. This zest for life is something I've always admired about my parents, and it's something I'm glad was passed on to me.

And they laugh! You can hear my parents from another town, they are so loud. And there I am as well. I'm reserved when I first meet people, and then after a few seconds I stop to care, and my laugh comes flowing strong and hard.

And this group, oh my goodness could we laugh. We were all like the kind of people that you hear laughing and can't help laughing as well because their laugh is so empowering, so encompassing, so genuine, and so so loud. Imagine a big group of us just like that, out on the town, every night drinking. That'd be us, and that is so nice.

For the first time in a long time, I felt like I had found family again. We all had different backgrounds and expertises, but we were able to relish in the fact that we were all very successful in what we've accomplished in our lives, and were able to be humble at the same time. We knew we are great, so there was no need to pretend like we were being interviewed. Instead, we let our rainbows shine, and our loud voices be heard unapologetically.

And we laughed. Up until the last minutes we were together, loud loud laughs. I'm sure many of us took planes back laughing as well.

I'm also certain that we were all heartbroken. Sometimes you have great experiences as such, and then it fades away. I hope that doesn't happen with this group, and I hope we remember to laugh with each other, knowing that even if at times we're laughing by ourselves, there's another one of us laughing just as loud in another part of the planet.

In each others thoughts, and in each other's lives, this was an awesome group of people to meet. I hope the best is yet to come for us. I really hope we can change things for the better with our collective professional laughter. Wishing all of us super good luck, and feeling content in the knowledge that meeting these people was exactly what I needed, right when I needed it.

Happy Pride

June is Pride Month, that becomes the case more and more across the globe, and I think it's kinda neat. More than neat actually, I think it's super fuckin' cool.

Some people like to think that Pride isn't important, that why is there no such thing as a straight pride? (Despite the fact that in pretty much every place on earth, everyday is pride day). It's almost akin to asking Black folk what the big deal is about celebrating MLK Day, or why Latine people like to celebrate Cesar Chavez Day. They do it for the same reasons the queer folk do: pride.

It gives us more than a big flashy parade in pretty much every metro area in less conservative countries. It gives us a quick glance into our history and the world we're trying to create. Of course, we can't ignore the mass corporatization of pride, especially in the U.S. which makes most of us barf, or the whitewashing of Pride history. Yet for a few weeks out of the year, Pride becomes a huge worldwide phenomena that so many people participate in to just sort of be more themselves for even a few days, even a few hours. See it's fine when straight folks get all fucked up and party, that's what we call "normal," but when the queer folk do that, that's still seen as degradation to society in many many places.

Regardless, we continue to be ourselves. Even if celebrating Pride simply means you wear something rainbow, or you see a story or two, or you march or something, or you come to terms with who you are as a person. It can mean a lot of different things to different people, but one thing is very clear: the queers and trans folk exist in every niche of human society. There is no single language, tradition, geographical location, skin color, class, education level, etc. that we are all a part of. Because being queer and/or trans is dependent on extra-cultural factors, we just don't go away even when we're oppressed. Even if you somehow got rid of all the queer and trans people on the planet right now, in the next generation people are still going to have babies who are queer and/or trans. That's just the biological truth. Trying to shut down the queers, trying to vilify the trans, is only saying that you don't want to really acknowledge the beauty that is nature. It says that you still allow very modern views of sexuality and gender rule your mind, and that you likely need a bit more to go to understand why Pride can be meaningful to someone who's entire identity is classified only by the fact that they are different than straight people.

I remember living in NYC back in the day. I had just "come out" as it were, and I had moved to New York after having lived in El Paso most of my life. Even though by that time I had already lived in Japan, London, and Costa Rica, New York changed my life. I met some kick ass friends, and I discovered what it was like to live in a world where being queer or trans was really a non-issue, and what was more important was where we were all going to eat, or which club we would hit up tomorrow. None of us gave a shit if you were queer or trans, it was all about who was the baddest bitch of them all. I remember using eyeliner, and carrying a clutch around the city. Though small details, they were the most me I had ever felt in my life. I learned to explore my body, to explore the bodies of others in ways I really wanted to, not ways I thought I had to and had been taught were disgusting because two bodies with penises were doing it.

My first guy kiss was an awesome experience, and the first time I ever did anything with a male bodied person was a very hot young adult am I experienced enough to be doing these kinds of things kind of few days. Though it did not last, and quickly fell into the throes of another young love story, I remember how I felt then. I remember how real the feelings were, how heartbroken I was for the fist time, how attractive I had found him, and how despite my inexperienced self, that was one of the most yearning and passion filled few days I had ever known. Much like the first time you discover masturbation, everything after is never nearly as special as your first time.

And then it was Pride. I was in New York City, had barely came out, had made all these new queer and trans friends, and I was going to Pride, the "Pride". My mind was overwhelmed, and talk about sensory overload. It was awesome to see all types of people, all types of queer and trans folk, and all sorts of different bodies. People kissed and held hands, and they weren't ridiculed, they were celebrated. I remember being in that parade, and seeing all those cheering people waving at us, yelling all sorts of wonderful things (and of course the 10 homophobes carrying their god this that and the other signs, but they never deterred us). I remember being like, wow, all these people are just here to celebrate. They are here to celebrate being queer and to embrace what it means to be trans. All of these people are here because they don't have a problem with who they are. I knew that though the queer and trans community is many times filled with great despair and sadness, for those few days, we were not part of that. For those few marching hours it was about us. Being surrounded by all sorts of people just like me was validating. It was reassuring that I was not alone, that I did not exist in a silo, and that no matter how much society tells me they just wish people like me would disappear, it wasn't about them. It was about us.

So Pride isn't this let's shove our gayness in your face month. It isn't about the rainbow stickers, flags, and merchandise. It's about the solidarity. It's about acknowledging that we exist, not so much that we exist to show the outside world, but that we exist with each other. It isn't about pushing out the straight people (as much as they like to make everything about themselves), it's about showing each other that though our lives are fucking shit at times and we are silenced on the daily, we are still here. Nature has not and will not eradicate us. We are just as much people as every other person on the planet.

We can't just shut up and stay quiet. Doing that gets us killed. Doing that allows dark thought to filter in from society that tells us we are better off dead, doing that tells us that our opinions are only valid if heterosexual gatekeepers okay our existence first.

So if you find Pride rather flashy, rather too over the top, in some regards I'd agree with you. I hate the over-commercialization and the suddenly every business supports queer rights (but still don't talk about trans) feel that has overrun so many of the celebrations in the U.S. But if you overlook that (very hard, I know), and really get to the spirit of what Pride is actually about, you begin to realize that it is no different than a people celebrating their own culture. A culture that is still vilified, still victim to daily, hourly, secondly micro and macroaggressions, a culture that can have a huge abyss between being queer and trans.

Despite Pride's very many flaws, it's also a celebration. A time for families to get together, most of the time chosen families, and a time for reflection and celebration. For me, it's a time I remember my first guy kiss and the few nights that were the most awesome coming out of my shell and learning about myself kinds of nights. I've had a ton of rich life experiences, but Pride while living in New York City was likely one of the most pivotal. I learned how to be unapologetically my own person, how to be okay with any way that I feel even if it can be scary to allow yourself to experience yourself. I've learned how to trust my body and how to communicate pleasure and pain to others. I learned how to be less afraid, that though at times taking the risk can have dire consequences, sometimes you just have to do it anyway to learn how to be happier. I learned that sexuality, gender, and love are some of the most complex, yet some of the most human things we can ever know, and that being proud isn't about being boisterous and a showy asshole. Pride is about being comfortable in your own skin, allowing yourself to always learn who you are and who you will become, and sharing that with others. If you really think about it, Pride goes beyond just queer and trans folks, it's a lesson that will likely benefit everyone. Being empowered in who you are benefits not only you but society a million-fold. You know, I don't know if things would be different for me if I weren't queer. If I'd be less mouthy, direct, and honest. I learned how to have a sharp wit and sharper tongue ever since I was a tiny little kid, and that never left me. I just learned more about who I am, and I've learned that I am happiest when I am watching myself grow and am learning.

Pride celebrations may be something that only lasts a month or so, but being unapologetically me is a celebration I carry on for as much of the year as I can. I wish more people knew that deep sense of belonging and unity that comes from being a young queer person going to their first huge Pride. It helps you carry on in a world that tells you you'd be better off dead. It helps you carry on in a society that tells you you will always be not second, but third, fourth, fifth or further down the line than more important people. It helps when you're reminded that not only are you queer, but you are also brown and from quite a homo/transphobic culture. Those parades and flashy colors, and all those loud queer and trans people having a gay (happy) old time reminds you of what the world could look like for our species. That's why I think the idea of Pride is so cool. For a few days at least, we get to live in a very small world where we are people. A very small world where we are loved, a very small world where we aren't told we are valued, we are shown it. We get to just exist, plain and simple. And for those few moments in time, we experience what it is like to just live for ourselves.

Transition

Life is full of transitions. It's been a while since I wrote here, and as I type I realize it's just what I needed. I'm going to move to my own place in a few weeks. It's going to be an expensive box, but at least I'll be able to reflect a bit more.

It means I'll be able to focus a bit more on myself, my favorite thing to do. As that star I'm so used to staring at shimmers in tons of different colors, I think about the natural world and my understanding of my place in it.

I'm not the kind of person that believes that everything happens for a reason. Rather, I understand that everything is connected, and sometimes I don't know how, but it's important to not dwell on it too much. Enough to satisfy your curiosity for the moment, and then move on. Obsessing over any one thing is never something I've been very good at.

We've been having quite a few crazy parties as of late in our house, and the summer drunk weekends are in full swing. While I do enjoy this short break before I start to become the focused academic I am again, this short break has allowed me to reflect and ponder of where I'm at in my life, what I want to do, and where I want to go.

The answer to those thoughts are I have no idea. I never have, likely never will. It'm my capacity to adapt and let go that has allowed me to experience so much more than I had dreamt up for myself. Life is now just like one big dream, and I learn lots of things on the way.

My emotions are just that. In many ways, they are tangible. Not so much like I can touch them with my hands, but in the sense that I feel them pulsate through my whole body as they come. Giving them the space to breathe and to inhabit my body is likely one of the most mature life lessons I have ever learned.

My counselor that I recently went to asked me if I ever got angry. I thought for a few seconds, and was like no actually. I have been angry before, I know that feeling very well. I carried it with me all of my childhood and well into my adult life. It's easy to blame others for your anger and to give into it and let it take over, especially if you have no choice, say for example like being a young child... But I don't experience anger the way I used to, and my physiological response to anger is much calmer than most. My reasoning is that strong negative emotions really wreak havoc on your body, so it's important to acknowledge them as they come and work through them, but to give in to them wholesale and treat them like they are the only emotions that are valid is very shortsighted and a bit dumb if you ask me.

My years on this planet and my life experiences have taught me that anger is just like any other emotion. You give it the space to breathe, you feel it, and you look at the bigger picture at what might be causing it. Like many emotions, anger is its strongest when you feel you've lost your sense of control, your autonomy to discuss with your body how it's feeling, and the ability to reflect before you act.

As the rut of my job, housing, bills, etc. sort of starts to create a stalemate, I start to sit and reflect about what might be next. It doesn't have to be a huge drastic life change like I'm so used to, but I know something will change. It's a bit ridiculous to think that I'm going to be the same person for long. I learn things to fast, and I am an excellent networker. I go with the wind, and I live my life uncaged. Something else is surely calling now, I can hear it. I just need to spend the time to listen more attentively, to start setting out on my next adventure. After all, I'm a nomad at heart, and at least that's one thing about me I know will never change. My sense of peace doesn't come from knowing what comes next, my peace of mind comes from knowing that what's next comes from a limitless amount of possibilities. You are never too old to jump into the water.

I'm still learning about myself, and that learning is going to be a lifelong process, but I feel like I'm on the right path for me. It's incredible how your body will talk to and guide you as long as you learn to listen.

And with that, I think I typed out what I wanted to say.

Disease

UTIs are so much fun....

I finally got over mine, urine is now not all sorts of cloudy or painful.

Disease can teach you a ton about yourself if you allow it to. I decided to forgo any antibiotics that come in white pill prescribed form and allow my body to test itself and to grow stronger. Disclaimer: I don't recommend this to most folks, I'm a person on my own, and I have a very high threshold for pain, something that took years to condition. Pain can teach you your limits, and when you pass those limits, you learn even more and you learn how to pull through, and the pain becomes a sensation. Again, my journey with my body is much different than most folks, so I AM NOT condoning that you forgo any medical advice and continue on with a UTI, this is just my journey with this particular strain that is apparently benign unless you're a pregnant woman (Strep B to be exact).

Because it was benign, I decided I would let the pain take me on a journey, and I would let my body heal and clean and flush just like it needed to. In the process, my body taught me more about who I am, and in a weird way, I'm really grateful that I let myself go through this experience without any powerful kill entire microbiomes kind of drugs.

So what did I learn? The body is a beautifully intelligent creature. It is not controlled by mind, and it is a force of nature, indeed it is a part of nature. This ability to somewhat detach from my body and let it tell me what it needs is one of my many skill sets, and I'm a great listener. What it told me was that it was hurting, but also that it was fighting. Peeing was a huge struggle, but I needed to drink lots of water, and needed to continue flushing.

Most importantly, my body informed me that for years, ever since my first UTI, I hadn't given it the chance it needed to listen. My first and second UTI I had to take pills to flush, and this strain was a different bacteria altogether.

However, disease tends to be a symptom of bigger things, bigger lifestyle red flags. I noticed how I was eating plenty of vegetables and produce, but my diet was not in season, and my diet was not in sync with my body. I became very introverted and allowed my body to feel, all the pain, everything. The healing was SLOW. It was a weeks long pain, likely a year's long journey, as I never remember being completely free of urges in my urinary tract since before I was 21. Years of stress and go go go, and moving country to country, place to place can take a huge toll on what you begin to consider your natural stress levels.

My body was telling me to slow down, in a very big way. This UTI was not something I think came out of nowhere, I think I had created the perfect conditions for this particular strand to inhabit at the most opportune moment. That's why I decided to forgo the pills despite the pain. If I wasn't going to learn how to listen to my body now, then when?

I tried lots of fluids, changed my diet, made it more seasonal, and went back to the herbal books to try anything that would work. Again, let me say that the way I do medicine is not mish mash if this plant can't heal in a day or two it's not working guess I'll just give in to modern medicine kind of way. No, I'm more of a you tell me what you need body and I will help facilitate. So again, I'm not telling you how to medicate yourself using plants, as likely most of you will do it wrong, and won't have the tolerance for pain and long drawn chronic sensations I have. Just another disclaimer.

This meant that the UTI fucked with my head, fucked with my mind and tested me hard. The healing process was 3 steps forward, 2 steps back, repeat. So even though it got better slowly, it would still go back. I kept track of how I felt a few days ago, and really thought about it I was getting better or not (I was).

My body has never excreted so much nasty shit. From my penis nonetheless. It was gross, but I knew it was healing. There's nowhere else for nasty shit to go that's in your urethra than out into the toilet when you pee, and oh goodness the pain can be intense. But I kept on, knowing I was getting better.

I learned how to thrive better because of this pain, this fighting body. I changed my diet and varied it up to match with the season, and that made a huge difference. I also took shots of apple cider vinegar because apparently that helps, and it sure as hell did. The pee got more clear and the pain began to dissipate.

I went off the sugar cold turkey. By sugar I mean refined sugar and snacks containing. When I wanted something sweet, I went for an apple or banana. No citrus, because not really a cold weather fruit (except for tangerines, but not so prevalent here). The cheese, the dairy, the meat, all out of the diet. It wasn't so much that I was trying hard not to eat it or denying myself sweet sustenance, it was that I knew what my body needed, and I knew that the 3 steps forward, 2 steps back healing approach was going to require great vigilance. So I watches, and I listened like I've never listened to my body before. My mind became more quiet, and my body became more intuitive.

After a while, despite the still aching dick I had that was slowly getting better, I noticed my health was picking up. I started working out daily, at first to distract myself from the pain and encourage my body to flush shit out. But then I started working out in order to get stronger. Before working out seemed like a chore, like something I told myself I had to do to remain "healthy" but didn't necessarily enjoy. Now I see it as a part of my life, a post breakfast post big ass dump routine, almost as casual as eating a meal. I'm getting stronger because my mind is quiet, and so when I work out, I can feel the sensations in my body, and it feels good to build.

I started eating way better too. No more snacks containing refined sugars, and I've come to love eating apples as a snack with some unsalted mixed nuts I buy in bulk. Now I see cookies and cake and crap, and I think, nah, why would I want to do that to my body. It's been through so much, and it loves me for the vast amounts of produce I treat it to, so I don't need that cookie, hell I don't want that cookie. And then I start to notice sugary foods less and less, they look less appetizing, and my eyes don't get bigger when I see them (show me a persimmon and my mouth starts to water).

I've also gotten better at eating more. I basically just pile on the in season produce and cook all of that together with few spices and maybe a dash of salt, and of course turmeric and pepper which I love, and that's my meal. Simple. Some beans in all of that for some bulk and flavor, and I am a happy camper after I consume the meal. It's amazing how eating in season tastes so so good. I had to remind myself to eat like that since I've lived outside of Japan. Now I eat and eat like a grazing elephant all day long, but I never feel gross and stuffed, and my poop is so nice in the morning.

My perspective has also changed on my eating habits. Before, eating was about trying to maintain health. So in my mind I could only have one cookie a day, or meat every so often, or cheese only with veggies, or something like that. Well then I decided to just forgo the meat, cheese, and sugar since I never really liked those much anyway, and I just consume more and more produce. It has been an amazing journey to get me to where I am today. Again, I'm not giving dietary advice, most folks will not know how to get all their nutrients from plants and will fall into the but I need to eat sugra dairy or meat trap. I'm just describing how I feel, not necessarily making any moral judgements on what is likely your shitty diet (ha ha).

Also, I feel more connected to the plants, more connected to the earth. Much less stressed, much happier and cognizant. I feel myself more productive, more rested when I get sleep, and generally more willing and able to live my life. Live my life the way I see fit, not fall into that modern I have to be successful as defined my money and accolades kind of life. My accolades are my overcoming of this UTI, my new diet perspective, my significantly lower stress levels, and my general sense of ease and connection to nature and existence as I understand it. I'm hella productive and inspiring, but unlike before, I no longer feel burnt out or pressured like I have to be great. It's not just that I've done so much with my life thus far, it's that I'm always open to learning, and I never stop dreaming big. So thanks UTI for teaching me that, and thanks for making my body fight and get stronger in the process. Disease can teach you lots, and I would do this UTI over again given the choice, knowing what I know now. Granted, I never want another UTI ever, but this one taught me so much. My bladder now empties completely, I have no irritation or weird I still need to pee sensations, and my urinary tract is doing a great job of cleaning itself all out. I've gotten better at listening to this fleshy temple of mine, and I'm delighted about how much it has taught me.

Hasta el final

Hasta que yo te quiera, que quieres que te cante

The tunes playing in my head and out of my speakers, taking me back to all those memories, finally able to take that ride without it almost crippling me.

Those were some intense times on that remote island. Listening to that music, connecting to a long lost friend that I consciously severed ties with to protect my emotions, to keep me from spiraling further into a black pit within myself.

Reminds me of the night I lay on the floor, music blasting, and I could not move. I physically could not get up. There was no voice inside telling me to get up, no conscious effort to move my body. I just lay there, feeling paralyzed, and all was dark inside. I just felt like Venus as a boy, but unable to move

The rollercoaster that was those months, crazy, fucking crazy emotions. Deep inner demons all coming out at once, and I just lay there on the floor as the darkness consumed.

That song always brings me back to that moment of despair. Now I am proud of it however, thriving because of it. A cold frost that does not kill the garden only makes it stronger. That's what happened. those cold dark nights, surrounded by nature, practically camping in the woods all day even when I slept in my apartment. I never knew a deep depressing loneliness until then. I thought my childhood was hard, but that was the worse I had ever felt in my life, and that says something.

I can't say that it'll never happen again, but I can say that I survived. Mental anguish, the release of all my fucked up emotions I held as a kid and well into adulthood just surfaced. The final bleeding out, the leech exploded. I've been through a ton, and there's very little that terrifies me. That night, the terror held me on the floor, immobile, could not move, and feeling like my last breath would just give up on me and walk out of my body forever.

Yet, here I am, thriving, despite that hard hard time. There was a calming beauty to all that fear and acceptance at the same time. I found a silent peace that night. I found a darkness that is powerful and fearless. I found my fire that was not burning because it didn't have to. I learned what nothingness really meant, what deepness holds in my heart, and a new found appreciation that I was starting my life on my terms from then on.

The doorbell rang, and I could get up to pay the dumbass upstairs neighbor those damn apartment fees he'd always collect two months late. I was never the same after that. Since then I have been able to pick myself up, my Catholic ingrained shame died, and I gave less of a fuck about everything moving forward. I realized life was going to be too short to give a shit about all the stupid shit we can worry about, and my darkness permeated and persisted. I am still dark, full of empty and nothingness. I am still in that dark space going through life. But that space is more powerful than any light I've ever known, more creative than the act of sperm inserting itself into an egg, and a part of something that I am connected to whether I want to acknowledge it or not.

So I listen to the song, and the heartbreak and depression is all still there. It's different now though, my body has learned to deal with it. It has adapted and grown from it. The hurricane has passed, and the trees have grown back stronger than ever. The roots are deeper. More hurricanes may come, but in order to have an impact, they'll have to be stronger than the one I went through. More powerful than anyone can imagine, more potent than most people could ever handle. You live through disaster, and it changes you. My body is stronger, mind more sound, and now all those harsh memories are just that: memories, and I am forever grateful for them.

Belonging II

I like how my previous post was a positive post. This one will be a sort of addendum to that one, as I am quite happy. I figured I should write now, so that when times get hard again, I can remember my focus, my visions, my passions, and that life is a series of waves, the good and bad both pass.

So I have a new job. A new good job. Emotionally and mentally satisfying, challenging in all the ways I want to be challenged, and with the opportunity to excel for me. I've always been that smart kid in class, the "how the fuck did you do that so fast and so efficiently" kind of guy. Now I'm beginning to realize that all that hard ass work I put into building myself has finally bore some fruit. That's very exciting.

It's like working with Y.E.S., but with a ton more professional life experience under my wing, and a whole different person since that time. All those crazy roller coasters I've gone through, those ups and many many downs, my bat shit crazy childhood, and all the moving year after year, even month after month sometimes. It's finally given me the thick skin I needed to have, but also the ability to be compassionate no matter how trying the situation may be. That is empowering. I feel empowered, and I have an infectious energy. If I feel that, I get to spread it around, and I am a master at spreading around energies, both negative and positive and everything in between and beyond.

I harness that energy and rather than get a big head from it, I pass it on. To my students, to employees, my supervisors, my friends, and strangers. I'd say family too, but that's a really unnecessarily complicated situation. It's good to be back in that space within myself again, good to feel like myself. To know I'm going to thrive and be accomplished, and that this is what I want, this is what I choose, and this is who I want to be. I'm in the business of inspiring, and I get better and better at my art day by day. I'm glad this job found me, and that I finally found something like this. It's a good place to be, so when times get tough, and they will again at some point in my life since that's how it goes, I can remember how I felt now. How I felt true to myself, my own nature, and what makes me flourish and thrive, and how I can empower others to find their voice as well. I'm getting better at remembering that I live my life for me, and the best part of it all is when I get to share it.

Belonging

Pride weekend. Fun as shit. Lots of queer people, lots of zest for life, lots of color, dancing, celebration. Pride.

This past weekend was indeed one of the most fun times I've had in a very long while.

Belonging is a theme that comes up. Where do you belong, this box, that box. The other box. And by belonging to each box, there are certain advantages, certain disadvantages.

The cool thing about being queer is that you can fit into a ton of boxes. Sure, there is a huge part of the queer community that gets highjacked with conformity, that gets gentrified and conforms to certain ideals. That is not what belonging means to me.

Belonging means to me that you can be comfortable with your own self. Free within, because where else would it matter more than to be free within yourself? Belonging means finding similar enough people to associate with, to feel at home with. It means that chosen family bonds can be more potent, more significant than relative blood bonds. When the whole world feels at times likes it's nothing but straight people, it's nice to have a few days where the queers can just be.

It's lovely to see the mixing. Gay boys with dykes with transgender folk with bi people with allies with all sorts of colors of skin shapes and sizes. There likely is no other population of people more diverse than the LGBTQ folk that exist, these markers do not cater to social boundaries, class, socioeconomic level, language. You are born this way regardless of the group you are brought into by birth, and then the groups mix under the umbrella of LGBTQ+ and more importantly under the umbrella of being.

There's a certain beauty that LGBTQ bring to the world I believe. We, and yes I say we, are survivors. Because many of us had to grow up fighting and navigating complex social norms that did not suit us, we are creative. We have been oppressed, yet at the same time enlightened. One thing that always strikes me about being around so many queer folk is how fucking genuinely jolly we are.

It's nice to have found good friends here who are just as ridiculous as me, maybe even more so. Fearless and care free, we waltz through life day by day, open up to new experiences and living richly. Though belonging is something I carry within and am very cognizant of, it is nice to be able to express and let the colors shine. It is nice to feel for a few brief hours that if the world was a little more gay, maybe all of us would feel a bit more like we belonged. Like we wouldn't have to judge or be ashamed of who we are because difference is an asset, something that is valued, something that is nurtured, allowed to flourish, and seen as a beautiful thing. Maybe if the world was a little more queer, we wouldn't have to obligatorily pay lip service to diversity and we might actually be able to implement it. Maybe if the world was a little more gay, we wouldn't be socially conditioned to attach shame to being attracted to the same sex and we could grow as people and learn more about human sexuality. Maybe if the world was a little more gay, we would all feel a little more like we belong.

The Wanderer

Listening to Gwn mi wn, remembering the first time I heard it. Living on my best friend's couch for a few months. Memories.

I'm a brave one, living for the experiences, taking it all in. I don't believe in heaven or hell, so this life is all I have. All my hopes and dreams and aspirations are to be lived in this life. Even if reincarnation is something more complex, there's still only this life. One that is for me to live.

I'm glad I moved here and that I've made the new good friends I've made. It's pretty interesting how easily I make friends now these days. Has a ton to do with the fact that I have had so many experiences, so I can empathize with just about anyone. I can genuinely relate to them. Relate to them as humans, as coexisting beings that have also had their own experiences, no matter what those experiences have been. I'm also adaptable and a very fast learner, so that helps too.

I'm a dreamer, and trying to change that is a hopeless quest. I feel most comfortable when I'm wandering. It's when I get settled that I get bored. My unquenchable thirst to live, to experience consumes me, the wind blows and I'm off again. Me in my element. Introspection and reflection comes from moving, comes from breathing, comes from existing. This roller coaster gets faster and faster, and I get better and better at riding it. My brain always on fire, always thinking, always going.

Much less apologetic about who I am as I get older. Yes, I can be intense, and it may feel like jumping off a cliff trying to keep up with me, but I can only be me. My brilliant, awesome, intelligent, experienced, beautiful self. If you can't keep up, don't worry, I'll keep going with or without you.

I ain't get any younger, so I must go for it. Must thrive if I wish to continue to be happy. This crazy life all over the place with no socially defined stability is what I know, it's who I am. I am the person with no home. The wanderer, just like my parents had always hoped I would be.

I Remember

I remember always wanting to live in New York City. It was a place that I had dreamt about, a place where I could get away from my desert birth town and away from the staunch Catholicism I had unsuccessfully attempted to be indoctrinated into. When I moved to London, I made some friends from New York, and the following summer, I moved to New York.

What I miss the most about New York is people not giving a shit, but also about there being so much to do. I miss that there are so many kinds of people and you see so many things that in order to not be overwhelmed, you learn how to instead just not give a shit. This is a radical departure from how I grew up and was raised, where there are rules and social norms for everything. I felt more like I was my own person in New York. People were weird, were different, didn't exactly give two fucks about who you were. That sensation was very liberating.

There were a lot of firsts for me in New York. My first guy kiss, my first sexual experiences, my first mutual crushes, my first trans friends, my first exploring my sexuality and finding the vocabulary to describe it. New York was an overwhelming place, but knowing that everyone else was just as overwhelmed made living there not only tolerable, but enjoyable.

I've always been a no frills kind of guy, and despite the opulence and crazy luxury that exists in New York, I always found the seedy corners, the dark ass pier at night, the dark buildings and questionable neighborhoods comforting. Much of the time, it felt like home. I felt more at home there than I ever did in my birth town. To be frank though, I usually feel more at home anywhere but my birth town. Don't get me wrong, the desert sun and mountains will always be a part of me, but I can do without the social interactions and visiting my family frequently. Over time I shed my ancestral impositions and in many ways actively forgot where I came from.

Now I'm in the awkward I have lots of free time and no job and have to think about my next big steps in life but don't really want to but am applying like a crazed person to lots of jobs anyway. In a strange weird way I miss being young, not having 2 degrees, and living in New York. I still had tons of student debt then, still had no real set goals, and it was still to early to have to start to think about career paths and shit like that. But now I do, and I remember New York. I'm glad I have so many wonderful memories to pull from to remember who I am. Maybe one of these days I'll go back, at least for a visit or two. I miss that place.

I Don't Apologize

Feeling in a bit of a slump in life right now. I've had 7 interviews thus far, one more interview on Monday, and no job offers as of yet, and have submitted close to 60 applications since April. To say this is a task is an understatement. Granted, I've only been applying to universities, one of the hardest places to get a job at, but nonetheless I've been feeling a bit frustrated.

However, I'm not depressed, and I know it's a temporary slump. I have to remind myself of that sometimes to keep me applying and optimistic that I'll get hired soon. On paper, it looks like I've fabricated my life experiences because I have so many diverse ones and I'm so young. In person, it seems like I'm very ambitious and talented, and people I think fear that because it makes them really deal with their own insecurities. I think for some folks I'm a reminder of all the things they could have done with their lives at such a young age if they hadn't made the decisions they've made. This is all hypothetical of course, maybe people just really don't think I'm a good fit for the job.

This has been the year of purging and restructuring. I have cut a lot of family ties that I used to once hold dear from a distance, and I have purged tons of relationships and my own insecurities in the process. Coming back to El Paso was a great idea. It gave me the closure I didn't know I was lacking. It made me redefine my family, think of them in a different light. It made me see them differently, and vice versa too I think. It made me cognizant of the fact that they prefer tiny dramas that don't matter over ambition and risk, and a false sense of security they've built to such a high standard that I am not allowed to question that without being ostracized.

I mean, how can I tell my grandparents I don't believe in god, never really have. I don't believe in the church either and I don't think lessons from the bible can be applied across the board to real life. How can I tell them I don't believe in heaven or an after life for that matter, and I don't think we were created from some mystical being in his image. That wouldn't fly well with them. But their god and beliefs are what their whole life, society, and sense of security has been built on, but they would never acknowledge it as such.

That's not the only thing though. I recently had a long conversation with a pill popping uncle who seemed to have heeded my advice in the moment, said blah blah blah. Then behind my back started telling folks I hated him. He's a compulsive liar, so people take it with a grain of salt, but I never said I hated him. It's a bigger issue of him being enabled by his family to continue being a piece of shit, while he can scapegoat others and continue being a large mass of blah. It's so fucking over with him.

I'm not gonna play the victim card and say that my family has hurt me and poor little me can't take it and it hurts and that's why I can't this that or the other. I've lived too much on my own and have had my own life to know better. It does kinda suck though to have this wonderful life away from home with such vivid memories and experiences, and not be able to share that with my family because 1) they're too self involved to ever care that what you've done with your life is amazing and 2) most of the time they just want a juicy story to throw you under the bus based on all their usually incorrect preconceived notions. They live in a bubble, and I kinda hate them for that sometimes. Luckily though, the younger generation seems to be doing better in my opinion, and they look at me as a role model. That's kinda nice. But as far as getting anyone older than me in this family to wise up and stop being so afraid of existence, well that's not so easy.

Coming back gave me a sobering reality. A reality that down to the core I don't live for my family, I live my life for me. It's what empowers me to do great things and to not have tunnel vision. My creativity shines and I flourish because I don't have a lot of role models and things are not black and white to me and I don't try to create drama within my family to keep myself busy and entertained. Recognizing that I am indeed my own person and not a whole lot like my family in lots of ways is a lesson I've learned well by coming back. I'm excited what the future holds for me, lots of great stuff indeed, and then I begin to realize that I create my own family everywhere I go. I'm incredibly self aware, and I find ways to make myself comfortable and loving everywhere I go. Yes, I'm intense and my ambition can be a little black holey for many folks, but I don't apologize for being who I am, and I don't apologize for who I want to become.