An experiment

There is a difference between diary entries and letters, academic writing and poetry, fiction and auto-biography. The form changes the meaning.

If I write in my diary that I am gay, then it is something that is a secret. It is something that I have not yet found a way to reveal to other people.

If I am writing a letter to my parents, and I say that I am gay, it is confessional or aggressive/defensive. Controversial. If I write a letter to a Senator, it is factual and proud.

It is rarely addressed in academic writings because they have little to do with your own feelings or beliefs. It can be talked about in poetry to help grapple with the emotions that surround this complication in our current societal understandings.

If I write it as fiction, it is no longer about me but about a character that I have created, which may or may not have any connection to the author's current condition or situation.

If it's autobiography, it is through the world as I see it.

This is to say that creative writing requires a freedom to say things that however you want to say them. It can be totally offensive to some and the most beautiful prose to others. As a writer, you have to leave the social bias at the door when you write. It is one of the most difficult things as a writer to silence the voices that want to keep you silent.

My greatest enemy in my life is the voices that try to keep me silent. When you have something that is worth hearing, the naysayers some out with violence.

You cannot be a people pleaser and a truth teller at the same time.

We live in a world that promotes freedom as long as your freedom doesn't infringe upon my freedom.

I was talking with a dear friend the other day. Leanna made some statements that were both surprising and comforting.

She said, "I am so tired of the religious arguments. In part they thrill me. The part of me that likes philosophy and debate, intellectualism, and actually using my brain. But my heart hurts. All I see is arguments. I rarely see love. I don't blame people for leaving the church in mass exodus. If I thought I could live with myself, I would leave too. I would leave so quick. Light up a blunt, have some mind-numbing sex, and pursue every hedonistic desire that I could dream up. Take a bath in liquid chocolate. Actually, no I wouldn't do that. That kind of grosses me out. There are some places chocolate was never meant to be and I'm pretty sure my whoo-ha is one of them."

While some people would be really refreshed to hear someone admit their humanity, others would be incredibly offended if they knew who Leanna really was.

That conversation was really amazing. There were 10 women in varying levels of relationships sitting around discussing their sex lives more openly than I've ever encountered. Women my mom's age talking about how much they enjoy oral sex. We talked and laughed, drank wine and ate cheese. We talked about Jesus and blow-jobs, as though that was a perfectly normal conversation. I learned that some of my friends like to get their freak on, where others would rather knit a new afghan than have sex with their partner.

All I know is faith and sexuality are very complicated. I hope to find a venue to creatively express my thoughts in a place devoid of judgement. Judge me on grammar. Help me become a better writer. But don't get political. That's not what this blog is about. This should be a fun experiment.