Category Archives: writing

Manifesto! 5/5 – Not The Marrying Kind – Statements…The End

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I think there’s humor in the hypocrisy of a movement that fights for marriage equality while lauding a film like “Brokeback Mountain” as romantic when the core basis of the film is an extra-marital affair. But it seems being on the down’low is acceptable as long as those engaging in it are white and only betraying women. Although the theme of pretending to be something you’re not fits in quite well with the homogenizing view of the large GLBTQ organizations.
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Manifesto! 4/5 – Not The Marrying Kind: Statements…(cont.2)

Previously – Not The Marrying Kind: Statements…(cont.)

I believe that the fierceness and power of the movement has been bled out by the constant focus on marriage equality as the only issue of importance perpetuated by large, wealthy, privileged groups such as GLAAD and the HRC who are looking out for themselves as opposed to the community as a whole.

Manifesto! 3/5 – Not The Marrying Kind: Statements…(cont.)

Previously – Not The Marrying Kind: Statements…

I don’t understand how fighting tooth and claw for inclusion in such a problematic power structure such as marriage is a fight for everyone’s equality. A marginalized group fighting for a bigger piece of the pie rather than the eradication of the system has never led to liberation.

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Manifesto! 2/5 – Not The Marrying Kind: Statements…

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I understand that marriage is a prison, has a historical basis in silencing women and trading them like pieces of chattel and that a mere fifty years of “change” or transgressive reinterpretations can in no way wipe out a history of oppression and inequality stretching back centuries.

Manifesto! 1/5 – Not The Marrying Kind: Introduction

So both my readings last week went exceptionally well. I got a bunch of compliments on my prose piece and am going to submit it somewhere this week and despite my fear the Manifesto reading went swimmingly. The audience got what I was saying and was whooping and hollering in agreement. In fact after the reading I had a few people come up to me and ask if they could find it online or if it was posted anywhere. I had been on the fence about putting it up online simply because it is pretty radical and the blogosphere is a very different environment than the very radical space I was in for the reading. I’m not up for some of the comments I’ll inevitably get but having folks ask me if they could find it online made me realize that if no one sees or hears a manifesto what is the freaking point?!

So my Manifesto, Not The Marrying Kind will be going up in five parts this week. I’m breaking it up, not to make more posts out of it (or at least not just because of that) but because it’s the way I wrote it – in a series of chunks – and I like the idea of it being experienced in that way. In fact at the reading since we had interruptions from the audience they got it broken into sections as well and I think it worked very well, allowing folks to take in the previous points before moving on. Keep in mind that this is an early iteration of the work and it may grow, shrink, shift during any future re-writes however the core of it will not alter.

Not The Marrying Kind: Intro

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The ReMyth Project – Queen Marie

So I decided to write a short little something for The ReMyth Project I mentioned in my last post.

Queen Marie

A soft curl of wind brought sounds of the slow movement of water to Marie’s ears. The quiet splashes could mark simple movement or the death of a million creatures that birthed, lived, hunted, devoured, mated and died in this balance of earth and water. The wind turned, the quiet sounds were gone, and Marie was swept back into the celebration. She focused her aged eyes on the young girls in front of her, dressed all in white they danced and leapt their way around the circle. Even those who closed their eyes avoided the ring of torches that encircled them. Some swirled so close that the fire set off cascades of red/orange/yellow in their brown skin, lit their clothes with the shadow of flame so that for that moment they were fire itself but they never got too close, always aware.

Then the drumbeats that moved their feet stopped and like dolls whose strings had been cut they all fell to the floor, exhausted. All, except for one girl, she stood in the middle of the circle stock still. Her form was tense and  every muscle strained against earthly existence, against the bonds that held her to her body.

Marie raised herself to her feet, slowly, coddling the joints that pained her so.  Though in part she knew that she lied to herself about her aches, Marie could not recall a time her body did not ache. It was not the ache that slowed her movement, she was simply tired. It had been a long life and she longed for freedom from her responsibilities, from the constant ache in her heart. Marie knew of the rumors that flew through the white mouths in town – that she was the devil’s mistress, that she would live forever, that she could bring death upon those who angered her.

None were true but the rumors served their purpose.

The police and courts did not care about her people, only she did. The rumors helped to protect them and for that and that alone she allowed their continued existence. She knew the part the story of her played and so she had stayed, living way past the normal human allotment of years not because she willed it but because the lwa did. They wanted her to wait. 

Standing in front of the girl Marie took in the youthful curves of her body, the whites of her eyes bright and shining, the rapturous look on her face. A part of Marie dreaded this, putting all the responsibility on one so young but she had always been a servant of the lwas and that would not change now. She leant forward and placed a chaste kiss on the girl’s full lips.

Marie felt her body relax and looked down at the wrinkled face in front of her. Raising an arm, she cradled the loose flesh of a cheek in her hand and spoke.

“Your time is done. I will stand.”

With that the old woman sighed and her body crumbled to dust, it swirled in the wind and finally flowed from the circle, moved out to rejoin the swamp the old woman had always loved. She watched the movement of the remains through the air for a long moment. Then, Marie Laveau, turned to her congregation.

 

Quickie – wrote in in about 40 minutes, let me know what you think.

2nd Submission for January

So I’ve gone ahead and submitted a second thing for the month of January, after all my resolution was only at least one publication a month not only one.  High on my first fiction publication promise I submitted my story “Ode to an Idea on a Winter’s Night, When the Sun is Low and the World is Fading” to Strange Horizons today. Keep your fingers crossed!

Also somehow I missed the fact that my second semester of grad school starts in less than a week. Somebody save me.