STUD

Dispelling The Myths

By Azaan Kamau
Guest Commentary Provided By
, Cole LEGEND Thomas, DJ Nova Jade, Quandi Jackson of Afrikan Visions, & The Amazing Damnyo

STUD Dispelling The Myths

Azaan Kamau

Names, characters, incidents, and locations are strictly a creation of the authors poetic imagination. Any resemblance to events or persons, living or transcended is coincidental. Copyright 2010 Jennifer Glover/ Azaan Kamau No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author. Book Design by Azaan Kamau Book Cover Design By Azaan Kamau Cover Photography By Azaan Kamau Photographic Images By Azaan Kamau & Samantha L. Ladson Photographic Images By Cole Thomas C/O Monica Holder Photography Other photographic Images Provided by DJ Nova Jade, First Published by Glover Lane Press 12/1/2008 Jennifer Glover C/O Glover Lane Press & Azaan Kamau Media azaankamau@gmail.com gloverlanepress@gmail.com
For other titles published by Glover Lane Press or Azaan Kamau Media please visit http://gloverlanepress.webs.com or http://azaankamau.webs.com

DEDICATION

To Dijan Bruttus Who's Smile Still Warms My Heart & Uplifts My Soul! To every masculine identified lesbian who has been Hurt, tortured, exiled, isolated, humiliated, And uplifted!

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
In life every great achievement is born through a collective of committed, unified, and creative people. Everything Ive ever done in my life is the result of a huge team effort. First and foremost, I extend my deepest gratitude to Dijan & Betty Bruttus, Willis & Louella Glover. To Felicia Ann Williams whose flame still burns in my heartcuzz hell, she was the epitome of a STUD! To my favorite Italian Marie Lutz.Call me! Madlyn Glover Chatman, Ifalade TaShia Asanti, Samantha L. Ladson. THANK YOU MARIO D. COLEMAN!!! Thank you Mario for being a friend, mentor, and most of all savior! Lynette Woodard, Cheryl Miller, Tara J. Brown, Cindy Brown, Sheila Alexander-Reid, Linda Hobbs, Rev.Jenene Maclin, Eva Georgia, Tammie Oleary. My Dawg Jasmine Pandy! Thank you to Dorothy Randall Gray, Dr. Ayin Adams, Terry Howcott, Greg McNeal, Thandi from Some of Us Are Brave, Dr. Michael Beckwith, and my entire Kamau Glover Family! Very special thanks to Stephanie DAKARA Wynn, Cole LEGEND Thomas, DJ Nova Jade, Quandi Jackson of Afrikan Visions, and the amazing Daimyo Lee.

Thank you so much to Samantha L. Ladson for photographic design, love and support! Thank you, I am so grateful!

"Prejudice is a burden that confuses the past, threatens the future and renders the present inaccessible." Dr. Maya Angelou

INTRODUCTION
Life has never been easy for me. Truthfully, it has been one rough road after another. However throughout my turbulent youth and triumphant adulthood I have not lost my focus. My true self, goals and determination have not wavered or changed. When I was younger, I felt awkward and misunderstood. As adolescence disappeared, I noticed my style of dress intimidated and incited straight people. It made them uncomfortable fueling the conflict within them. As I grew into womanhood, images of the proper lady continually flooded my consciousness. Everywhere I turned, on television and in every magazine, the package I presented was not ideal. I was always too much or never enough! A proper lady is supposed to look like this, sit and smiles like this. A respectful woman must walk like this, act this way, and talk like this! Of course I was none of these things. It was as if what I represented challenged peoples ideals, morals and their perception of freedom. What I represented crossed their boundaries, and made them think. At times I was confused by peoples hatred of women like me. However I wasnt confused about who I was. I was confused because people were judging me without knowing who I was or taking the time to get to know me. At times I was confused by peoples hatred of women like me. However I wasnt confused about who I was. I was confused because people were judging me without knowing who I was or taking the time to get to know me. I refused to ignore my true self. Because of this Ive been labeled all sorts of things like dyke and bull dagger. Through all of that, I embraced my diversity and my differences from others. I have a clear understanding and acceptance of who I am.
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Several years ago a friend brought something disheartening to my attention. My style of dress has come into question as it pertains to the African American Lesbian community. My friend informed me that slowly but surely I am achieving all of my journalistic goals and then some! She said I must eventually be ready to be a spokesperson for the passionate issues I am addressing. She said with this comes a huge responsibility. I then told her I thought my responsibility was to be cognizant of what I write, say on paper and in front of the media. She agreed then added, thats only half of it! She then said to represent such a vast diverse people, my public image means everything! She said the more visible I become at functions, clubs or at church, my suits are a topic of critical discussion. According to their conversations, Im trying to be a man. Supposedly I am trying to project or portray an image outside of myself! I thought what!? In these conversations it was said my face was friendly and positive. Its like an oxymoron! She also told me these ladies feel that my suits project a masculine overpowering image! She said some felt my suit, shirt, tie and square toed dress shoes make a negative statement that points to my personality! The clothing and how I wore it inflicted dislike and distance in their gapping eyes! I said huh?! According to the ladies, my suits are dark, butchy, mannish, machismo and gangster-like! I stand out like a beacon! My friend defended me to the fullest describing my personality and my journey. But then she asked how could you receive positive feedback, readership or support from the African American Lesbian Community if they can not relate to your mannerisms and style of dress? Again she asked, how could they as a community embrace you? She then suggested maybe I should tone it down, change a bit, and alter myself! She said how unfair that would be for people, your people to cast you out before getting to truly know you! I thought on what she said for a few minutes. For a moment I felt hurt and insulted. I am the community I represent. I am the epitome of what I write. I told her I am a visionary, a missionary and a devout revolutionary. This is who I am and this is the

package I come in. I wear what is comfortable and visually appealing to me. I do not try to make fashion statements, or project multifaceted STUDNESS. What I wear should not define what type of person I am. Stereotypes pierce and puncture me. I am forever guided by spirit. I am always on a conscious path of truth, growth and knowledge of self. I can not alter myself as my friend kindly suggested. Altering who I am would be deviating from my truths. Something I live by is being true and honest with myself. I could lie to the whole world, but deep within I would know the truth. This creates friction and resistance in the soul. Eventually guilt and regret would take over. I cant help but wonder what the women saw. What about the suit or suits affected them? I honestly dont believe it was the clothing at allMaybe they saw that I am out of the box and that I will never conform to any social marginalizing standard. Maybe they saw the fact that I try to smile and stay positive in the midst of African American self-loathing and homophobia. Maybe they saw I was proud and fearless. I dont know.

I hope all people eliminate stereotyping from their way of thinking and become less judgmental of others. I believe that when we discriminate against our own, we perpetuate divisions and isolations Dr. King and others fought hard to eradicate. Division amidst our own should not be allowed to exist. Our people are ALWAYS talking about connecting and unifying. Its about time we eliminate this aversion towards our own people and finally be a community. Azaan Kamau

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STUD

STUD; as it pertains to the African American Lesbian Community... No Longer a bulldager, but something quite different. A masculine identified woman who is OUT to the point of having an attitude of empowerment and confidence. She is not easily intimidated or unsure of herself. She is much too positive to be pessimistic. Way too strong to be filled with fear. She is much too determined to allow defeat! She is sexy, sultry, and mysterious.....

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TABLE OF CONTENTS 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. THANK YOU STEVE Momma Androgyny Pork Cracklings Back in the 90s Hungry FUEL No Mimi I dont want to be a man Shade Tree Theologian TESTOSTERONE Foster Daddy Zenobia, Speak Yo Mind Fahrenheit Sappho, Where Was Sappho Breast Cancer Butch Omni Gendered Misogynistic Male Bitches You Cant Define Me? Those Fine Black Panties Dont Ride Me! You Too Can Heal Allow Me Whimper Gay Rights & Diesel Dykes In My Prayers U Dayum Right! STONE BUTCH

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GUEST COMMENTARY BY

DJ Nova Jade Quandi jackson LEGEND Damnyo FIND THEM ON FACEBOOK!

THANK YOU STEVE

Thank you for abandoning me. Thank you so very much for leaving us, And pretending we dont exist. At times it was hard for me. Not understanding why my father didnt want or love me. Growing up I carried much resentment towards you. As my mother laid there dying, all you did is kept running and hiding. Even to this day, Ill never understand why fathers walk away. Was I an unplanned, unwanted pregnancy? Is that why you decided to flee? Maybe foster Daddy would have never known my name, My fear or created my pain. Maybe foster Daddy would not have stolen my innocents, Then tried to make me a victim with his bullshit. Just maybe he would not have taken advantage of me, Then refer to me as lil boy. So thank you for creating me, leaving me, then cheating me. Thank you for being a coward. Where ever you are, I think you should know, You Will Forever Reap What You Sow!

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Momma

I know you never got to know me or watch me grow. You may have seen my first steps, snapped a few photos, but thats all you know. Well Momma, Im a woman now. Scared & scathed, but yet I stand. No Im not dainty or frilly, and no I dont want a man . Nope, I was never interested in playing jax or jump rope. No patty cake, no drill team steps. When I tried, I always felt awkward and ridicules, I just didnt get it. I grew fearless and confident, without you by my side. I grew empowered, proud and self- reliant. But no Momma, I dont have a man. I never wanted to play hot scotch or jump rope. I was always writing poems or trying to figure out how things float . I never nail polish, just Tonka Trucks or things I could demolish.. Not feminine or frail.

Not sickly or pale. Im just me with big biceps and wavy hair. But know this Momma, your daughter is spiritual, energetic, passionate, and athletic. At the end of the night, I connect with my source. Living as a Stud, I have no remorse. I often pray. Lord please allow them to see, I dont want or need a man to carry me.

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Androgyny
They dressed me pretty, with pink frills, many many ribbons in my hair. Lots of lace on the back of my underwear. I hated it. I felt like a fool as everyone told me how cute I was and to not get dirty. Every chance I got, I was in Grand Pas shaving cream and great smelling colognes I would close my eyes and dream, Knowing I would one day be a warrior King. Not a Queen or some beautiful vixen. A King. On The outside my frilly lavender bows and ruffles humiliated me as my soul peeked from my eyes. On the interior, I felt like a tough rugged little kid that would get lost in a field of dirt. I Felt at home sitting in a tree, shooting marbles or just being me.

Pork Cracklings
You are amazing while you sit there slamming dominoes onto the table. I can not believe you have the nerve to point fingers at me, Label me the abomination, Knowing that I never got in trouble, went to college, then got my education. While collard greens and fried chicken lured us to the kitchen, All you can talk about is that Ive have sinned and that I will repent when Jesus has risen. You have nothing but three pregnant daughters who all gave birth Prior attending to high school, One of them you were high as a kite, and at three she drowned in the pool. Five cousins incarcerated their entire lives. Misdemeanor here, a felony there, When they could have been saved, no one seemed to care. You were never there to give structure or parental supervision. Yet and still no responsibility was given. You keep blaming the white man for your kids decisions. Family, what does it mean? All you talk about is its the white man I should fear, But is my own cutting and wounding me with their culture and Post African spears. Many have drowned in alcohol, and even drug abuse, But as soon as I arrive, everyone breaks out the Bible and then a noose. But yet in still this family reunion is stagnant and stale. Everyone pointing fingers at me,
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Talking about Im some type of He /She! From hoes to hoods, thugs and prostitutes From hustlers to pimps, those in wheel chairs, those with limps You have the nerve to label me the abomination. Even though none of you attended any of my graduations. You blaspheme God by being disconnected and greedy, Killing yourself slowly then developing diabetes. Many I didnt recognize as they have gained weight to a staggering size. The mistreatment of your temple is what God despises. But I am the abomination? What is the point in attending such events, with Al Green singing in the background, everybody playing Spades and Bid Wis. I cant believe all you see is my non-femininity. Not my heart, my soul or my divinity. While you are snickering and jeering at me, Why dont you go brush that one tooth while you still have some teeth. Its all good, Even though you dont have teeth, Just save me pork cracklings and some barbequed meat!

Back In the 90s

My God I thought as my legs quaked. Thankful for love is a gift. I thought maybe one day I would say,
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I take thee to be my lawful wedded wife. Emotions flowed like fuel and raged like fire. It roared like lava, It swallowed my voice so that I couldnt holler. I thought in sickness and in health. Maybe a white limo, and ivory tuxedo. Emblems, rings, and anxiety. Butterflies in m stomach, horror behind my eyes. I thought till death do us part. I wanted to yell I do. But it only reverberated in my mind. Platinum upon our fingers, Why the eternities in her eyes became disgust, dislike and fear. I do shuttering and filtering into our bodies. Terror shimmering and glowing on my face as I tried not to tremble into tomorrow. With glee as my halo, I imagined lifting her veil knowing faith would deliver me to.something. I pictured myself gently, passionately kissing the bride. But in reality, I was too masculine, too boyish, too muscular, too athletic, too hard, too rough looking, too high strung. She said I was much too visually intimidating, too proud, too Amazon-like, too cocky, too self-reliant, too bold, too warrior-like, way too aggressive, much too chiseled. The truth is, I was TOO OUT She never wanted to go OUT cause I OUTED her When I couldnt give in to your demands,

Switch sides and become entranced Its so very sad how you graze on peoples feelings, Emotions, endeavors and dealings. Stop foraging on your people While searching for acceptance, Stop smearing them for your own celebrity & notoriety. Stop shaming us, humiliating and defaming us In every direction, Scandal, lies, disgrace, atrocities, All caused by you! Step out of your self made closet before its too late. Internalized homophobia is now your fate. Understand who you, and dont procrastinate! The truth is I was never right for her, nor she for me. I am a butch woman, Expressing life naturally. Either except and love me as I am or find someone who fits your mold.

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Hungry

Skin tight jeans at her ankles. Hungry lips parting mine. Got Dayum, Hot hands on my spine Tongue and teeth all over me. Fragrant breath, Strawberry Daiquiri on my skin, On her tongue, In my mouth. Pulsating, throbbing, intoxicating. Hungry as I bowed, Draining her sanctuary, Consuming her fount, Watching her stomach and legs tremble. Sucking, drinking, and dining hungrily. As passion intoxicated our spirits and our minds, She pleaded for more. She then flinched as thrusting inches penetrated, manipulated, then saturated my sheets. Hungered suction,

Pulling and begging me to go deeper. Ecstasy then shouted from her, as she mounted and roared my name. We erupted as climatic insanity committed us then threw away the keys.

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FUEL
They wish to dictate, crucify and rape. Some just laugh or gay bash. But, In truth they dont know me. God, Spirit, etc, etc has never ever made anything outside of itself. That means my masculine identity. Everything that we can see, touch, and feel came from once source. The Great Mystery. That includes me, the supposed enemy. God does not judge, hate or kill. Not in the name of himself, or any spiritual text in existence. God does not love me or us conditionally. God is not compartmentalized, He sees my spirituality. Just cause Im a STUD, God loves me no less. God does not see the worlds definitions or any religion. God is not concerned with sexual orientation, my race, country of origin, my wavy hair nor my copper colored face. God sees my intent, my heart and certainly my soul. Stop using the Lord, and his messengers of love to spread your ignorance. The more you hate, You are only creating your own hell and manifesting your own negative fate.

No Mimi!
No Mimi, you will not control me! You can whip & beat me, Castrate & cheat me, But no Mimi, you will not control me! You try & try to terminate and Annihilate me, But just know, you will not control me! I am not your dart board, Or some sexy butch, so that you can keep score. No Mimi, You will not control me. Narcissistic and twisted, You are nothing but a husk, Feeding off of your own people. Sabotaging the hopes and dreams of a people you claim to love. Spewing slander in all directions, Emitting lies vile and foul. Embracing negativity, Seeking hate and vengeance to fill your veins with new blood. As you move through life radiating hate & deceit, Just know that neither you, nor your wicked evil will thrive in defeat. If your goal is destroy others for your own self-fish motives. Vindictive clone wearing the clothing of sheep, As Blacks weep and weep. As you discharge abhorrence in all directions, Know life is a journey.
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Willie Lynch lives through you and the things that you do. No Mimi, you will not control me! Manifesting your own negative fate.

I Dont Want To be A Man

Many are convinced I became all sorts of names, Simply cause I decline your sexual advances. Insisting I wish to replace you and your manhood. Label me what you want dyke this, bull dyke that They spend your time and precious energy, Pouring libations and praying for me. But just know, I dont want to be a man. Slander my name if you can, Imposing your anger and will upon me cause I refuse to make myself sexually pleasing to you. You respond with hatred and homophobia instead of embracing the truth. Butch, Stud, or even lesbian But dont get it twisted, I have no interest in being a man.

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Shade Tree Theologian

Generations of mislead congregations, Shoutin and hollerin, prayin and hatin, convincing us to empty our pockets for a massive donation. Stop twisting the facts, based on inerrant text. Intelligent people know, It was Constantine that created Christianity, back in 325 A.D So bratha man, you cant convince me.. Shade Tree Theologians from every city & state, every corner of the nation holding a plate. Playing and recruitin, trying to get any type financial contribution. Our people are in need. Sufferin & dyin as you demand they give their last dollar. Always collecting for the building fund, hypnotizing and mesmerizing the people, Just cause of the church needs a steeple! As Blacks across the nation suffer from inflation, Jaguars and Bentleys all line up. The lights are disconnected as young Black mothers are exiled and disrespected. But Theologian under the shade tree, you demonize me? Claiming to speak in tongues while yellin your type of Christianity is the only one. Jack-Leg Preacha, What about the Presbyterians, Lutherans, and Unitarians? Have you forgotten that we all are made in the spiritual image and likeness of God?

Instead of criticizin and ostracizin me, you should go learn your history. Stop using God to divide, oppress, and discriminate against his own creation. Stop using the Lord to justify your hate for me or my supposed deviation. What would Jesus do you ask He would not judge, condemn or persecute. He would never deny love or compassion cause of ones glittery fashions. Stop telling me where Ill spend an eternity. Maybe one day youll wake up to the truth about the Trinity. Stop judging me and my masculinity.

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TESTOSTERONE
Tell them about your long thick sideburns, Chiseled muscular body and Your slow swagger is not some deliberate act. Often criticized or stigmatized for trying to look like a man. Trying to be a man. The truth, you are a STUD. This is how Spirit made you. The fact is, Studs dont want to look like men. You want to look the way we feel physically, emotionally or spiritually. A Stud is a broad spectrum. Many are phenotypically female, but genetically male! Tell them. Some not only is hormonally and chemically male, We have male attributes! According to many physicians, we are born with the natural overproduction of the male hormone testosterone. Some of us have minimal to no production of female hormones. So I ask, are Studs wrongfully discriminated against because they may have more male chromosomes or born with an over production of testosterone? Western society demands every birth should be conceived with XY or XX chromosomes. Typically these chromosomes will grow up to be male or female. External and internal organs that is clearly distinguishable. Therefore those born an XY or XX will be naturally attracted to the opposite sex. This is never the case when a female infant is born with male chromosomes and hormones Tell them. Hormones trigger our nature and aggression. Genetically, many female infants are exposed to the male sex hormone called Congenital Adrenal Hyperplasia.
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Female infants exposed to the hormone grow up looking and acting like boys. Initially you were called a tomboy, then bull dagger because we exhibited a rough or masculine temperament. As a child you were athletic, muscular, manly, and much more aggressive than females in your family. They labeled and ostracized you. Instead of being attracted to feminine gendered toys, clothes, or activities, you were quite the opposite. Testosterone influenced your likes, dislikes, and orientation. Tell them. Many studs/ lesbians grow facial hair and their voice deepens during adolescent! Ultimately all of your behavior is controlled by this hormone! These traits are all stud/butch characteristics. Sex and gender are two different things. They have nothing to do with sexual deviance. Studs/ lesbians are not trying to be men! Conservatives want this scientific information to remain hidden. They wish for us to be permanent targets for biased laws, Violence and discrimination. They want reasons to discriminate with Proposition 8. Throughout history the Bible is used to target gay people. The fact is, the Bible was written in a pre-scientific age. The authors of these books were not aware of sexual minorities, chromosomes, DNA, or women that produce testosterone. They did not have the technology to determine the actual facts about the other sexes and the chromosome variations. Tell them. Tell them the facts about testosterone and gender. Tell them we dont want to be men.

Foster Daddy
At age 9 you pretended to be kind, Wooed me with lies, and sips of red wine. You repeated again an again how you were a good church going man, Who provided for his family and had all your ducks in line. You said I was not a boy as you crawled beneath my covers, You moaned one day, once you become a girl, youll have a male lover. Little did you know Foster Daddy, You can lie to me, your wife and family, But God is watching you, The cigarette burns, The abuse, The forced intercourse, And your lies too. I hope you that you have repented your blasphemous ways, And have the dignity to be a real man in your last days.

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Zenobia, Speak Yo Mind

Zenobia Yelled into the microphone: Color & privilege.lighter whiter skin receives, retrieves and achieves more. Thick lips & hips, chiseled cheek bones, knowing the Motherland is not in my eyes but behind them Depression & oppression holding & gripping me Each time you yelled into the microphone, I could feel my skin grow cold and my hair stand on end. I understand your plight. The oppressor following and stalking you as you sing and write poetry. Target of lust and ragesimply cause you are different or the other. Hate, subjugation and the fact that you are still property keep you oppressed. When you sang your pain, I closed my eyes. The melody hit & whipped me until tears ran down my cheeks. My heart palpitated and my breath was short. I cried cause they, the oppressors will never know or see your beauty. They will never fully appreciate the sound of your sung or spoken words. I see, No matter what you do, write or sing, your bright yellow skin and blue eyes is all they see. It is all some will ever know. You are dismissed. Bliss when your opinions are kept to yourself. They want you no matter how yellow to stay in a niggers place. When you speak yo mind they wish to shut you down.
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They wish for your obedience and silence. You speak your truths even though, your own, Your sisters and brethren are ashamed. They too wish to diffuse you! Remove you from your imaginary yellow skinned pedestal. Dont worry about any of them Zenobia. Read That Poem! Speak Yo Mind Zenobia! Speak Yo Mind!

Fahrenheit
From The sky she emerged Silken copper skin. I sit captivated, Starring & gazing into her eternity Wondering from whence She came I sit idle and quite as the Celsius leaves my body Nothing present except her. Her fire. Her scent, Her vibration, Her energy lingering and calling me. Her smile, Illuminating the room, my space, & calming my mind. Begging and luring me to open my haven. Let down my walls. So that she may dive into the fires beneath. Timid as I part my seas.. Hot rose petals caress my hips, my tongue, my skin, My thoughts, my lips. Mesmerized I lay in awe as her hot skin touches mine. In wonder of Gods Infinite Gift. I lay shivering beneath her, Her arms, her mind, her mouth I tremble and quiver as my Fahrenheit takes hold And makes me its prisoner. I feel feverish. Sticky, sweaty and wet. I can not control my bodice as I moan and pant.
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Wanting and needing more of her Soul in and out of mine. Hard, soft, slow, wet, passionate, Dominant, and demanding. More I yell as my soul quivers in her mouth. I am, I yell. I am I am I am All yours.

Sappho, Where Was Sappho?

Where was Sappho when the Church rebuked me in the name of Jesus? Then condemned me and my peeps to the depths and the pits of hell? Where was Sappho when we were being alienated from our parents, attacked by bullies at school, attempting suicide, and abusing drugs to seem cool? Where was Sappho when our youth were in pain, hiding, misusing alcohol and dying in vain? Where was Sappho when the rich French painted images of Sapphic flower-like love, racial hate, purgatory, then turtle doves? Where was she when they justified their hate? Where was Sappho when masculinity was viewed as obscene and African America turned their backs as if we were freaks and fiends? Where was Sappho when I weight trained to get stronger and bigger, while people jeered; you think you hard, you think you a nigga! Where was Sappho when they were yelling, branding us the abomination, blaming us for hurricanes and the worlds devastation? Where was Sappho when ignorance dripped from the lips of the twisted privileged and the wicked elite? Where was Sappho? Where was Sappho when my ears bled and seeped; bull dagger and sweet man, you disgusting freak. I was expected to suck it up, turn the other cheek!
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Where was Sappho when the Sakia Gunns and all the other ones, died in the wake of hate, murdered in the street. A slaughtered warrior became her fate. Where was Sappho when we were looking to butterfly from bull dyke to lesbian, and nonblacks didnt welcome us in? Not the club, bar, or even den? Were we too Black or not Sapphic enough? Were we too ambiguous to be seen as anything other than a niggers and men? Should we, lesbians said back to the island from whence we came, or is Sappho and Lesbos just another place on the map waiting patiently to torture and mame? If that is your destiny, out casted fruit falling from trees, Let Sappho know our home is not Lesbos or Mytilene.

Breast Cancer Butch

Lost and confused cause the healthcare system in America doesnt recognize you. Falling through the cracks of society as heterosexism isolates and infuriates. Feeling depleted, alone and isolated from friends & family. Spiritually destroyed as family blames your mannish lifestyle on your illness. Its your fault, cause they think you chose to be a butch lesbian. After all of the biopsies, breast removal and therapies, All the doctors and nurses can talk about is having you fitted to replace the breast you lost! That just added to your misery. Their main concern is how natural and womanly you will look, Not how you feel. You secretly wonder, How could this be, why dont they care about me? Though emotionally bruised and battered, Stand your ground, knowing that in this life truly you mattered. Fight for your quantity and quality of life. Fight Breast Cancer Butch, Fight.

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Omni Gendered

Even though you were a devout pious feminist against tyranny, sexism, and misogyny. We loved laughing together, exploring archeology, and listening to Floetry. We spent hours embracing Ancient Egypt and African Antiquity. We talked about HIV/AIDS prevention, unwanted unplanned pregnancies, youth incarceration and the possibilities of rehabilitation. We discussed analogies, poetry and Soliloquies as we watched the sun set. We talked about creating anthologies, and creating writing dynasties. In the midst of repressive bigots, violent butches, and we still loved Egyptology. I remained Omni Gendered. We talked about how Christian lesbians hide in pulpits across the nation, victims of invisibility and subjugation. We talked about the fight for gay rights, and all of the great possibilities and restful nights. We talk about our childhood friends, even my own Lisa Leslie, from back at Whaley. We talked about how to eliminate poverty, We talked about how to restore our nation our people, our generation. Though we laughed till we cried, Your true essence you could not hide. Allowing generations of inverted beliefs to steal your joy. I became a secret fulfillment or just a toy. But yet, I remained Omni Gendered. We discussed Malcolm X, Huey P Newton, Marcus Garvey, and the films by Spike Lee. We talked about Muddy Waters singing the blue and all the poems of Langston Hughes. Continuously, unknowingly separating yourself from the source of which you came. You insist you must tame and control your lust,

You are adamant that the Bible does not acknowledge your love, Adamant that you have sinned, Convinced that some metaphysical evil is controlling your thoughts, Confident that your passion for her of the world and not of the spirit. Definite that only the acceptable love is from a man to a woman. Though you may believe that you are some how flawed, Depleted and defeated, I walk by, holding your gaze, Watching your eyes. Though you remained victimized and compartmentalized, I am Omni Gendered. No matter how much we've laughed and cried, I am the secret you still hide. No bridles, no ropes, no binds, just hopes. Living freely, Omni Gendered. Allowing God to express as and through me.

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Misogynistic Bitches

Misogynistic Male Bitches killing me softly with hate songs and lyrics. Threatened men, pimps& players Thriving as thugs, hustlers, ballers all to dominate the woman. Misguided manhood. Portraying women as inferior, They think we should & must be controlled by them. African American lesbians are now the enemy, The new threat who needs to be controlled and taught a lesson. Butches & studs being accused of misogyny. We get blamed for domestic violence when its my brothers killing me. We have not dominated or escalated any hatred of our own. Since our birth, African American girls are taught that this is okay. We are taught to be attracted to boys & men who dont respect us. Dont uplift or protect us. Some men & boys who see us as things, tools and property. In their world, we are just a minority.

Even in music we are always at the crossroads of race, culture, gender, and class. The music preaches that being a masculine woman is socially unacceptable and destructive. So of course, I preach back. No, but your response to me is! Eradicate your hate, Terminate your envy Eliminate your narrow minded vision Exterminate sexism & chauvinism

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DEFINE ME?

YOU CAN NOT DEFINE ME. FEAR TERROR REVULSION DIVISION CRUSIFY UNSIGHTLY DEFAMATION COON MISERY INTIMIDATION HORRID NASTY CRUEL VILE DECEPTIONSLAY RESTRAIN ABOMINATION GECHEE HANG DARK VILE CRY BITCH MALICE OPRESSION OVERSEER GEECHI PERSECUTION SLUR INJUSTICE SEGREGATION DEMOMIZE HATE DESTRUCTION WICKED INFERIOR DYKE ENSLAVED PRIMATE POSSESSIONS INEQUALITY TWISTED SADISTIC NAUSEATING FOUL SOB IMP RAPE DESECRATE HORROR INSULT EVIL HOE TORTURE INVISIBILITY RACIST EXILE SLUT LIBEL SLAVE AGONY VENGENCE GAL ASSASSINATE INSIGNIFICANT PAIN DESERTED SINISTER WAIL HELPLESSNESS BIGOTRY WARPED SPADE CALLOUSNESS INTEOLERANCE HOMOPHOBIA SUFFERING WOUNDS BULL DAGGER VICIOUS SLUT JIGABOO SORROW SEXISM OBLITERATE SICK REVENGE PERVERTED DEMONIZE MURDER TORMENT INVISIBLE ANGUISH DISTRESS CRUELTY VINCDICTIVENESS ANNIHILATION SLAUGHTER BUTCHERY DEATH LYNCHING GAL TERMINATE ERRADICATE SEGRAGATION STRUGGLE WEEP ANGER VENGENCE SCREAM RACIST HATRED TYRANT DISCRIMINATION RESENTMENT ANGUISH BULLDAGGER NIGGER HEATHEN EXILE SLANDER ISOLATION RAPE SEGREGATE BLACK CHATTELS WEEP HEINOUS SADNESS TRIVIAL CRUEL MONSTEROUS INJUSTICE OPPRESSOR MASTER BIGOT BONDAGE LYNCH VIOLATE LIBEL DEMEAN VICTIMIZE ABUSE SAVAGE HOPELESSNESS CASTRATE SUPREMACY ANNIHILATE VIOLENT SMOTHER UNCIVILIZED GROTESQUE CRY DISHONOR REPRESSION DYKE
51

PUNISHMENT GRIEF DESTROY EXTINGUISHED TWISTED DEMOLISH DISGRACE DISTRUBED NIGGER TORMENTER BRUTALITY SILENCED IRRELEVANT SAVAGE ABHORRANCE BRUTAL MONKEY SISSY HUMILIATE DISCREDIT SUPPRESSION GOODS CHATTLE SPITE RETALIATION RETRIBUTION DISCRIMINATION BITTER UGLY UGLY PREJUDICE

Those Fine Black Panties

Eagerly I waited in candlelight as you emerged from the darkness. My precocious gift from God, illuminating a once dark room Little did I know your spellbinding fabric would fuel me beyond my wildest expectations. Flowing liquid movement. It held me & made me its captive as your jeans fell to your ankles. I watched you walk & glide across the room. I watched those panties, The fine black cloth clinging to your velvet wetness. Those panties, tight, black & shinning caressing your body as you walked. My God, I thought as I looked at tem. Touching, holding you in places I only wish I could Ignited as I stared hungrily. The close embrace, they were loving touch as if painted on your flesh. No beginning, no ending, no skin, no cloth. Just those underwear touching you, Absorbing then becoming the wetness. I envy those fine black panties Clinching, pinching, drowning beneath you. Moving against your hunger. Making love to you as if they were another woman, Another entity. I watched in jealous dismay as my temperature rose.
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Envy dripped from my lips, my brow. I calmed myself as I stared into you. Instead of having thoughts of lust filled madness, I rather unwrap you my precious gift and dine until I can no longer ingest.

DONT RIDE ME

I remember, Nag Champa and candlelight. Swiftly removing my fedora, while you ran your fingers through my corn rows. Hastily taking off my Pink Stacy Adams, matching tie, then cuff links. Wet adoring kisses covering my face, neck and chest. Whispering in my ear, those bulging arms & tattoos are so sexy. I want to make love to you I remember your slow seductive rhythm, your back arched, head tilted and to the left. Your eyes rolled into the back of you head, lips moist and slightly parted. You would lick and kiss me as you rode, Still whispering in my ears as you nibbled and moaned. I remember stilettos and lace. While she rode she would devour me with her tongue and teeth. Her tempo was fast and constant, vigorous and hungry. She would explode then speak softly, I love you, you feel so good! I also remember times when you would erupt and emit like a volcano, Then tell me no. I cant keep doing this! You would jump off of me naked and wet, Upset and vexed, Asking the Lord to forgive you and not send you to hell. You cried as I tried to comfort you,
55

But you were convinced that you have sinned against the Word. You insisted that you would be punished for fornication, You were convinced that our love making was the ultimate abomination. You insisted that you would be rebuked and disciplined Unless you repented. Dont Ride Me, then shout you have sinned. Praying on your knees, speaking in tongues, Demanding youre cleaning yourself of the evil ones. Dont Ride Me, then cower and hide. I will never understand why you ran away from love, Allowed some external force to control you, Or was afraid to be loved.

57

You Too Can Heal..

As you grew up rough and tough. Your relatives insisted, Now Thats Enough By age four they knew you were a male gendered child. Your loved ones felt helpless as they Sat perplexed, embarrassed and vexed. Stop acting like a boy. Sit with your legs closed. Youre too pretty to be so hard. Stop walking like a boy. Youre like a bull in a china cabinet. As adolescence came and went, Your isolation became freedom insults & slurs. Most of us grew up in a Christian atmosphere. Taught from birth that we have sinned. Being trained to think and believe that God is angry, jealous and filled with hate. Molded into thinking that all homosexuals are bound for the fire of hell. I said all of this to say, You are not what they said about you. People may cast us aside as their embarrassment and shame control their thoughts about you. It is truly their ignorance and ultimately their loss. You too can heal from what they did, how they treated you, and how they made you feel. You are not what they said about you.

Most of us were teased, bullied, and belittled But just know their taunts can not control your or your destiny. You have a choice to not allow peoples ignorance to control you. No matter how masculine, androgynous or feminine, You are not what they said about you. There is absolutely nothing wrong with you or within you. God smiles on all of his creations, Because this truth, you are not what they said about you. You To Can Heal!

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Allow Me
Allow me to be The key that unlocks the door to your Most private fantasies Allow me to glide over the hills And through the valleys Of your bodys landscape. Allow me to explore you with my hands Lips and every part of me, so that I meet your needs. Allow me to explore every inch of you. Making your body shiver & quiver, Quake and pulsate Igniting the fire that only we can extinguish.

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Whimper

All of this sickens me. Held hostage, bound and tied. Bound to your homophobic belief that I and we are less than They have tried to repress us. Yes, I am sickened that our world, even country drags its heels as it tries to change. Today, we are still discriminated against, kicked and whipped as we work. Without a solid education, where would some of us be? Greed guided a path across many oceans to destroy those not like you. Those that do not have your hair texture, pigment or religious beliefs. Now this, you hate me cause of my masculinity. Even though we are all so beautiful and come in many varieties. To you, we are wicked and dark, maybe even pagan. Praying to the sun, the wind, the earth Using the stars as our guides. Though we are free in this land, there are still issues that label and brand. Like the African, looked upon as the beast of the field. All you see is my stature & dominance. Not my passion, love or confidence. As hate crimes soar, and laws are passed to gay bash, I whimper. I whimper at the thought of you.

Gay Rights & Diesel Dykes

To my young lesbian nation; Be a warrior, not a soldier in the fight for equality. Many oppose our marriage. Why, I dont know, but ignorance is a toxin that spreads and prevails. They say our unions will threaten and weaken the institution of traditional marriage. Our unions will supposedly destroy the family structure! Family structure? Again I guess ignorance is bliss as they march toward us , Blinded and gagged. Our country lied to and mislead. Extramarital affairs and dishonesty weaken the institution of marriage. Bigamy. spousal abuse, Child molestation have weakened the institution of marriage. Marriage for citizenship, fame, or sex Has weakened the institution. Biblical interpretations and murder for insurance benefits have weakened the institution of marriage. Intent to marry bachelors and millionaires has weakened the structure! I could go on with examples of Americas values and they have destroyed it! Same sex marriage has absolutely nothing to do with heterosexual marital dysfunction. Yet and still they label us diesel dykes, Cast us out for riding choppers and bikes,
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Adamant that we somehow threaten their dysfunctional unhealthy relations. The divorce rate continues to skyrocket. Unwed mothers has been the norm since the 60s This country has more important issues to deal with instead of restricting the basic human right of my marriage. Healthcare, social security, affordable housing for everyone and The national deficit needs much more attention than restricting my rights basic human rights! At least we believe in monogamy Be a warrior, not a soldier in the fight for impartiality.

A threat To Justice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere Dr. Martin Luther King

In My Prayers, I asked The Lord To.

Eliminate prejudice and hate. Lord eliminate racism or any type of social poison that holds us back as a people. Lord please teach my people that we can never use violence against ourselves or any person, cause we are all one. Its useless. Violence, hate and vindictiveness only replicates more of the same. Tell them Father. As a people who have been historically swept under the rug, Tell them Lord that we can not allow any negative force to deceive us into Hating ourselves. Self loathing only breeds more of itself. Lord teach our World to embrace diversity and all of our unique differences. I asked the Lord to eradicate intolerance. Please empower the masses with and through positive reflections of ourselves. Lord teach us to love ourselves, no matter what others say, feel, or do. Help Father create a community of inclusion, No stigma, no taboo, no stereotype. Please Lord eliminate the epidemic of ignorance and injustice.

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67

THE GUEST COMMENTARY

DJ NOVA JADE
How do you identify: I identify as lesbian, gay or queer, depending on which way the wind is blowing. Dyke is fine, though not preferred because it's been used negatively toward me in the past, but here and there it's nice to just feel like a pure, uninhibited dyke, ya know? What is your label if any, Butch, top, stud, aggressive, etc: Funny thing, my father's nickname is Butch and so is his father's. I guess that makes me third generation Butch by default. In all seriousness, though, I'd like to think if I had a label; it'd be "androgynous". That, or "queer enigma". What is your external gender: physical appearance, why type of cologne, etc : Going back to being androgynous, I'm female to many, but many times I'm male to others. I'm a jeans/t-shirt/sneakers kind of woman, my hair is nappy and I'm proud of it. I've been known to put on a dress (with sneakers of course), and I've also worn a heel or two in my day. But really, I'm just a big ol' tomboy. Always have been, even when I used to get my hair pressed and I tried to be girly. I can't tell you how many times some days I'll be called sir. It makes me smile a bit. What is your internal gender: personality, masculine traits, emotions, feelings I often think that I was supposed to be born male, but because the women in my family are basically non-existent, I came out as female. I was raised by my father and grandpa, so in many ways, I think I'm even wired mentally like a male, though emotionally, I'm quite female. However, for a long time and even now, I struggle with expressing my feelings like a female would, because when it comes down to it,

I'm still learning what being female even means. It's definitely been a struggle, but that's life I suppose. What type of people and or women are your most attracted too: Mmmmm... Women. I don't really have a type. I've dated and/or been attracted to all shapes, sizes, eye colors, hips, lips and sways. In general, I can find and appreciate the beauty in all forms of the human spectrum, whether male, female, trans, but I definitely get my heartstrings tugged upon by the females. I couldn't really pinpoint what gets my attention - it's a different attraction from one woman to the next (though I'm sure the angels in the universe probably can see a pattern that I've not yet figured out yet). I do, however, get very stimulated by a powerful and intelligent mind, beautiful eyes and smiles and warmth in affectionate embraces. Talk about your puberty or adolescents: Let's just say that growing up with a male god bless him - wasn't really the best when I started my period at age 9 in the 6th grade. The constant bleed-throughs at school, having to keep long winter coats on (even during the hottest days of the year) and/or jackets tied around my waist became such a way of life for me, even well into college. I didn't really officially start having happy, worry-free periods until I was 23, and I'm almost 25 in a month... That's what puberty was like. Self-worth, self-esteem, or even self-hate: All of the above make me an artist, but right now, I'm focused on the Self-worth header. Have stereotypes & myths have affected you: That wearing make-up, dresses and heels are the only way to be a beautiful female, especially in the entertainment business. Excuse my french, but F*ck that. I think that's why over the past year, I've just stopped combing my hair and letting it do it's thing, and I've begun to embrace more of my masculinity by acknowledging that I feel the most comfortable when I wear t-shirts and sports gear (that's actually a line in one of my poems, titled
69

"Fashion"). I am 100% all-natural, grade A, Prime vegetarian-meat Woman, but that doesn't mean I have to be something I'm not, as far as wearing make-up and stuff. It's just not me. But, I do like it when I get made up by make-up artists. It's fun to play dress up, but for me, that's all it is. The traditional female stereotypes just don't fit my character. I'd like to think I'm helping to redefine what it means to be, look and act like a female on this Earth. Are you passionate about gay/your rights: Got a Vote No on 8 lawn sign in the front of my house right now (it's my grandpa's house, actually). And that's bold, considering I live in Los Angeles in a predominately black neighborhood, and most of all the neighbors on the block have seen me grow up since I was just a wee lil' dyke. That's just one of the ways I show my colors proudly, I think. I don't have to go around telling everyone, just like I don't expect, nor want to hear, a straight person have to declare themselves every minute, either, but I definitely am passionate about my rights. Not only for myself, but for the well-being of the LGBTIQQ community. Talk about your race, culture, and the religion you grew up with: I grew up with no set religion, though when I was 7/8 years old, I went to Catholic school and loved to walk to church on Sundays by myself and sit in those lovely pews to be in the house of the Lord. Amen. But, then again, I enjoy Wicca (more so, tarot/astrology), I subscribe to Buddhist philosophies, have probably been in a cult once, love to silently chat with angels and God many times a day, and appreciate Judaism. I'm constantly referring to the Universe, as well. Really, I'm just spiritual, and I keep an open mind to everything and everyone, even people who are Atheists or Agnostic. More than my race or my culture, my spirituality has shaped me the most in life. I think I had my first premonition in a dream that I can truly remember when I was no more than 5 or 6. Just dealing with that part of me, the highly intuitiveness of my Being, has been enough to keep me in the clouds, yet VERY grounded. I could go on and on and on about my spirituality, the things I've experienced: angels, being

thrown to my knees by God listening to Mary J. Blige "No More Drama", the premonitions, the dreams, the intuition, signs. But, I'll stop before I get ahead of myself. :-) Masculine traits, hobbies, and interests: I used to always ask my father to buy me electronic toys as a child. I had so many science kits and build-it-yourself robots and what not. I used to love to take apart watches because I loved to see the cogs and wheels inside, but also because I would hide notes inside the watches, close them up and re-open them a week later to find the treasure. I think it had something to do with being an only child, too (had to entertain myself). But even now, I love to tinker with electronics (I'm a deejay) - I am fascinated by how things work. I love cars, and would love to learn how to fix them up. Sports rule. Girls are hot. Discovery Channel and National Geographic make me swoon for more. I like to sit with my legs open a lot. And yes, I've mastered the art of peeing standing up. The end. Show Info: http://www.myspace.com/djnovajade Podcast: http://djnovajade.podomatic.com http://www.teragreene.com "Start with action, end with action" unknown

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73

QUANDI
Butch, Stud, Top, and Aggressive are a few terms lesbian women utilize to determine their interaction with their counterparts. In detail, Butch describes a very masculine woman who doesnt identify with anything that may notate her womanhood. From the clothes she wears to the way she walks, it most often resembles a man. Sexually, this woman doesnt like to be penetrated but likes to penetrate, for the most part. Some may go as far as a gender change to better identify with the male persona. Stud is a term very similar to Butch. Besides the fact that Butch is an ancient term used mostly by the older Afrikan generation and Caucasians to identify androgynous women, Stud is a much newer term used by the younger generations. Although Studs can be very masculine, there are some who are not shameful to identify with their femininity. In most cases, Butches and Studs both prefer that their partners are of a feminine nature. Next, Aggressive is a term that not only describes heterosexual women but lesbians as well. Its a loose term describing a womans behavior. This woman is dominant, not necessarily masculine, in everything she does from speaking to taking care of business. Last by not least, Top is a sexual position, which informs your partner that youre on the giving end. A Butch or Stud, for example, prefers to penetrate or please while their partner enjoys, whereas, an Aggressive can go either way whether shes pleasing or receiving. Contrarily, if sex is suppose to be a sacred act, then why are labels even used to describe how we perform sexually, anyway? All of the labels listed above, informs your place within the lesbian community. Is it the lack of self love and appreciation, education, or indifference, which constantly keeps one seeking for words of validation? This remains unknown, for only that individual can answer that herself. Growing up, I knew that I was more aggressive than girls who surrounded me. I gravitated towards activities that my brothers embraced such as basketball and riding bikes. However, at times I had no choice but to embrace womanhood being reared in a religious home. However, I always knew that I was different mentally and physically. Externally I am an aggressive woman, but I view myself as a strong woman
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not a woman wanting to be a man. I know who I am and appreciate the body that God placed me in. Because I have trained myself to know who I am through cultural education, self esteem or self hate has not been an unresolved issue for me. Now, balance is always necessary for any healthy relationship. With that said, I prefer my partner to be just the opposite of me. Being a part of the Afrikan race and growing up in a strict religious home, I was forced to extend my knowledge pass traditional beliefs. It just didnt agree with my way of thinking. Ive always felt like people should have the right to exercise their free will loving and experiencing life the way it should be, without limitations. Therefore, it is a must to fight for what I know in. Carter G. Woodson once said, When you control a mans thinking you do not have to worry about his actions. Train that same person to hold a certain image of [I will use her for the sake of this editorial] herself within her mind and this is how she will act. Today, many people have gotten so caught up in so many labels that its become a sickness. Sometimes, it makes you wonder why our parents give us names. People utilize labels to describe everything from race to gender. In particular, labels define how one fit within society by the way she dresses, talks, and appears externally. Ridiculously, one can be judged by the amount of money she has by the class of car she drives. This goes deeper. If an emergency forced you to the hospital, the type of insurance determines not only how the staff treats you but what type of treatment you receive. In addition to, colleges and universities has found ways to divide its students by labels, although this may not be as critical. Whether lower, middle, or upper class, society has always found a way to distinguish ones social status. If we contribute to this name calling, we seriously have to ask ourselves, is it our fault? What many fail to realize is that classifications keep you blinded from reality. The lesbian community is no different and has gone as far as creating more labels to determine relationship roles. If we learn to be who we are, there would not be a need for any type of validation. Society has raised so many unnecessary issues about same sex marriages, adoption, public affection, and so forth. Because of this, youd think that any additional labels attached to same sex relationships and/or individuals would be shunned away.

Personally, being liberated to me is my choice not Amerikas definition. Yet, its a spiritual, mental, emotional, and physical freedom. Labeling myself limits me. Now, if I were be labeled, hopefully itd me as an hue-man soul; a label that positively uplifts my spirit and frees my mind, not degrade me. Why cant I be labeled, if at all, as vessel made in the image of perfection? I am what I think I am, and others see me how I see myself. Who am I? Only I can define that.

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Cole T.

THE INTERVIEW:
How do you identify? The short answer is I'm a masculine-identified, lesbian. what is your label if any? Butch, top, stud, aggressive, etc? I have used them all. I also use Dominant and Daddi, but these connote another role and Lifestyle, not necessarily driven by my "gayness" but at the say time inextricable from it. External gender: physical appearance, why type of cologne, etc I would venture to say that about 30-40% of my casual hours, I am mistaken for a male. I used to say that casual meant "non-working" but I was mistaken for a guy the other day at my part-time job (by Lisa Leslie's Mom!) when I was about to take a picture of her granddaughter. She said, Smile. The nice man is going to take your picture. I am fine with that. People are free to address me as the gender they perceive, whatever about me registers with them, so long as they are polite. I must admit, you ladies and shawty make me cringe. Maam? Well, honestly, Id have to say that I prefer, Sir. All of that to say that Im pretty androgynous from outside in. I cross-dress for gay and lesbian functions and leather events, sometimes for dates, and sometimes for no reason at all. I own more mens cologne than womens and more boxers than panties. I have a hate-hate relationship with my menses. God and I talk about this once a month. Im like, With all due respect, Lord, this PMS thing is cramping my style. You know somebody who rolls like me cant be risking starting to cry unexpectedly because theres a dead squirrel in the roadyes. No. Kills my cool factor. No, for real, God. I dont need this anymore. Ever! Can you just make it go away, pleeeeeeze? Im posi no, I cant appreciate it as a natural part of being femaleyes, I understand I could have never had my children withoutno, I dont want a sex change or a hysterectomy.

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Internal gender: personality, masculine traits, emotions, feelings I suppose I am more of a girl than my sons and their father, if stinky feet contests and burping and farting an' shit, are a measure of boyness! My sons are also much more technically astute than I. AOL had a 100 things you have to know not have your "man card" taken. I laughed the whole time, thinking. Well, I guess I ain't a man! My internal gender is masculine, though not male. Almost like a third gender. If I had to earn a... lung for a friend, by putting on a girly gown and make-up again (yes, I did that when I married the children's father) I would not look like a badly done up drag queen, but I think the way I hold myself, my gestures and mannerisms do not lend themselves to feminine things. I don't appreciate them on me, but I thoroughly appreciate feminine things on feminine women. Emotionally, I am logical and compartmentalized. I am sensitive, which means the right girl can really hurt my feelings. And while I am sensitive toward others, the people in my in-group would say that I am a bastard to please, and that I am extremely demanding of them, and perhaps, not empathic enough. Puberty or adolescents, I was not a battle with myself as a lesbian because I didnt realize I was lesbian until I was almost 18. I had very little experience with lesbians and they all seemed more athletically-inclined, manly and harder than I perceived myself to be. I had no models who looked or acted like me. I remember a few times in high school being aroused physically by the site of a girl or something on a girl - boobs and the skimpy flag girl outfits, for example but, again, it felt so natural to me that I would have guessed that all girls felt like that! I left for college a few months after my 16th birthday and a few months before my 20th birthday, I was in the faculty locker room, going down on one of my instructors in the shower, after her tennis game. The young stud had grown balls. It was on. Self-worth, self-esteem, or even self-hate. Those things that I am secure about, I am really secure (okay arrogant, and

occasionally cocky) about. The things I am insecure about, I am really insecure about...or extremely motivated to fix them. The only times I feel like I hate myself is when I make "stupid" mistakes and omissions due to my ADD or when I cannot get something completed because of some other thing operating in my mind that causes me to avoid and procrastinate. Or when I let down a woman I love or let my children down. I have never hated being lesbian or being a boi. Never even wished it wasn't so. I hate being rejected or hated for something so much a part of my fabric. I love how, when you are having a tough time, a sistah maybe a girl you dont even know- will show up somewhere in your life and sing high praises to the tribe: "There is just something, something about you black studs that is just - whew! irresistible!" Shell smile and do that thing femmes do with their eyes and the world is right again. What stereotypes & myths have affected you? I think people still believe there's not enough room in the world for AGgressives. That we're stealing men's roles and jobs in families. That we steal their dignity...castrate men. That's male-centered and patriarchal rhetoric and it generates hatefulness. I don't need what a man has. Well, actually, there are some things that men have easier access to that I would love to have, and have had as a function of my association with men, but the cost (one's soul) is too high. I can get my own or die tryin' Describe being a Butch/stud parent. Now there's a topic! My boys have had to watch me come "back" out after being married to their father and because of the distraction of the near poverty we have weathered, post divorce, it has been more rocky and confusing than it needed to be. Still, they have done okay with me being me. My youngest - who, at 12, enjoys the finer things in life - preferred the more conservative, officer's wife "Mom". He is adjusting. They say it's awkward, and sometimes it is. They call me "Mom" and my woman called me Daddi, and sometimes, "Sir." I have some other queer lifestyle dynamics in there; so it does get interesting! Sometimes, I feel guilty that they have this extra "thing" to cope with regarding their peers, but I quickly move through it. The other day, I was looking my 40's stud self, and the oldest child's friend
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commented, "Wow, Man. You got a mackin' mom!" And he was not being facetious! I looked to see what my son thought and he just shook his head in amusement, and in that moment I felt like our single-parented, bachelor pad was going to be just fine. Passionate about gay/your rights? Very passionate, but I try to handle myself in a manner that people don't feel I am "bragging" about being lesbian. I want to be visible, yes, but I want to be treated with respect and fairness. I want people to assume that someone could be gay, even if they don't show it, and act accordingly. In the classroom in which I recently substituted, I reminded students that sexual harassment and racial/ethnic slurs are not only, not tolerated in the school due to their wrong and offensive nature, but also that these high-schoolers can be ejected from jobs for this behavior. I gave them the three-minute hostile environment speech after one boy called a "lesbo" and when I asked him to use a different tone and a more appropriate reference if he insists on calling her by what he assumes is her one of her identities... another student said, "homosexual" is the word you're looking for, and the boy on the hot seat said, "yeah, homo". This started my teachable moment. Later, when a black student made what he supposed were African percussion sounds when I asked the name of a student from the African continent, I reiterated that the creation of a hostile environment, by action or negligence is a crime in some places. I encouraged the students to line up with the trend, and checked in with the "target" students before each left. I don't have money, but I have a voice. I have my art. And I can be a role model. Your race, culture, and the religion you grew up with? Went to chapel when we were small, then to the black Baptist church I spent many years in. Enjoyed church, not only because it helped me to be comfortable in reaching out to my Higher Power, but also because it helped me to feel grounded. It gave some order to my life. Didn't hear much preaching on homosexuality. I was too busy getting stung by the fornication scriptures. Since, sadly, I was a sexually active teen. Most of my exposure to gay men was in theatre and church, and I noticed that most everybody kept it light (if they liked the gay person). "Funny" or

"queer" were used and only sparingly and in whispers. Just today a friend and I received disapproving calls from our mothers, regarding our sexuality. My mother, who is a minister, talks "around" religion now, but it is grueling to listen to her do it, because she's chomping so at the bit. She knows I will shut her down if I feel shes saying something disrespectful, so she has learned to tread lightly. I cannot help but to think that my crazy brother is in her ear helping remind her that every step she takes toward accepting me for the masculine, lesbian woman I am, she is one step closer to going to hell! My mother doesn't want me to send her any LGBTIQ literature that might help educate her or let her know of my community activism because if her husband sees it, "he will never let me live it down; so, we'll just keep this out secret." my knowledge there is no organization in the church that supports the unique needs of LGBTIQ parishioners...yet. Body image, sex, and puberty. I am the only woman I know who is glad that gravity is pulling on my body. My butt in particular. It has drawn so much attention from men throughout my life, I am glad to see it flattening out a bit. This butt used to embarrass me. I do not like to have sudden, public attention called to me, even when it's related to an appropriate matter like a gift or talent. I have never liked that kind of attention and I got it, from age 11 on, way before the expression baby got back became trendy! Even so, I would say that my body image has always been pretty positive, but I need to treat my body better. I don't treat it like a girl's body...lotions and face treatments and pedicures an' shit. It would be nice if I would do that. I'd be nicer to the touch. Sex? Geez. I had sex with boys and men and the motive (in retrospect) was never sexual pleasure. It was barter for access and approval. That's why I do not identify as bisexual. I am lesbian (although I've coined the term transbian...for those sexy androgynous women-who-love-women who don't identify as male, but as masculine. A transbian would also not identify as feminine, although she identifies (more often than not) as female. Transbians cross-dress, but not for erotic stimulation, as wood a transvestite. And a transbian doesnt mind being called masculine pronouns...s/he might even
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encourage it at times! That's the kind of dyke I am. The next time I had sex with a woman was on my 18th birthday, about 7 years later. I had romantic relationships with women for about 8 years before getting married to the man who became my children's father. I did not have sex with women while he and I were together. It was not as hard not having sex with women as it was hard to have sex with him. It felt like... I felt like a lesbian having heterosexual sex. I had shared my lesbian sexual history with him when we first started going out, but neither of us thought that would preclude me from loving him, and it didn't. It just precluded me from desiring sex with him, and from existing and thriving in my proper role. Your perception of love. WOW. When my 15 year-old has a writing assignment, but really wants to go skate, it sounds a little like this: Love is nice. I like love. Mostly, because it's a good thing. And it's fun. That's why love is nice. I would recommend it. That is what I have to say about love! I went out with a man twice my age when I was about 17 and he refused to bring me back to my college campus until he had sex on me. This was the pre-cell phone era and I didn't even know where I was. In high school a male coach twice my age, developed an inappropriate fondling relationship with me when I was 15. I later came to see that as a form of abuse although it was "consensual". Kids cannot give that kind of consent. Whenever adult men or women choose to abuse others, they have failed to consider or commit to other options. I don't know how all of these events impacted me, but I do know that I feel very strongly about child abuse and domestic violence. Poverty in the LGBT community. In most cases, we have no infrastructure to support us - not even temporarily - if we fall on hard times. I think that we carry more stress than many mainstreamers, and as African Americans, even more. More black parents than we know tell their LGBTIQ kids (minor and adult children) that if they are "going to be gay" they are on their own. That is a fanciful way of saying I have abandoned you because you are not

what I need you to be. They hide behind religion and tradition and any manner of justification, but in the end they are ashamed of their children's orientation and identity and don't want to have to deal with it or deal with their peers about it. LGBTIQ people are out here dying from their family's pride, and their communities' homophobia and prejudice. Cole T

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Damnyo

How do you identify and why? What is your label if any? Butch, top, stud, aggressive, etc? i identify as a stud. i hate the word butch, something about it drives me crazy. on the west coast, we dont say "dom" or "aggressive." im more of a soft stud, but i like to call myself a pretty boi stud. im not too hard and im not a fem, but i am smooth and pretty. What is your external gender: physical appearance, why type of cologne, hats, etc i feel comfortable and wear men's clothing, shoes, and cologne. But im not a hardcore stud, im not afraid to soften up my appearance. what is your internal gender: personality, masculine traits, emotions, feelings hmmm i dont know how to explain this question. i am just me. im strong when i need to be strong and emotional, all the time. but lets not confuse emotion with passion. i am a very passionate person. i am still and will always be a woman.

talk about your puberty or adolescents my adolescents wasn't bad. by the time i was in high school and whatnot, being gay or bisexual was the fad. so i had a string of girls i would hang with that was family. i didn't realize i was into girl until my junior yr. What stereotypes & myths have affected you? that all lesbians want every woman that is seen. no true. i don't like every woman. not all women are my type. Talk about your race, culture, and the religion you grew up with my life is pretty simple. my parents aren't too heartbroken, but they are not the most supportive in my life, period. i don't have too many of the mental stagnation when it comes to my lifestyle. i am pretty much accept everywhere. i am very fortunate to never really experience these set backs. my generation is a little different. most of us are pretty much
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accepted, but i could only speak for myself. i grew up in the church, but i am not religious at all. i am more spiritual.

Secrets By Damnyo

I am her secret. Her unknown fact, touching her body in the late night, secrets being created and covered, while I, uncover her body from the sheets of my bed, lustfully removing time. We are lost. I watch her, from across the room, reading her eyes, feeling her passion, sending her messages, like meet me in the restroom in ten minutes, internally smiling at an unknown secret, that is I. I am her secret, phone calls at 2am, emails with dirty words, whispers in the dark,
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moans at midnight, with my hands caressing her being, creating poetry, and more, Secrets. Clandestine retreats, We, both missing sporadically on weekends, hiding our passion. Creeping, maybe even cheating. Late night drives, holding each other until the sun rises, then like a vampire, I disappear, back in the closet, where all us, secrets, hide. We meet and compare, seeing who was closer to the heart, doing things secrets do. She whispers my name when calling me from work,

walking with a new bounce in her step, glowing when she smiles, making plans to meet at a long distance Starbucks just to watch the sunset in my eyes, enjoying my company over mint tea and the back seat of her ride. Watch I and moonlight rise. Secrets come out at night, along with freaks and graveyard shifters. I am her secret, physical sanctuary, forgetting all problems, such as work, bills, or that fight with her unsuspecting boyfriend. Hell never know, and Ill never tell. Secrets are best kept between two, two lips, two souls, two hours a day spent away, when you & I, visit our secret hide-a-way. Your silent partner. I cant stay away.
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Secretly hating my position, second class, always placed last, never a first thought, most likely the one being cut first, hurt fight, when secrets become too much to handle. Warning me everyday, but contradicting at night when our body collide. She tells me this as we make, Secrets, and I, dont listen, with the small shred of hope, hoping just maybe, shell consider me for a fulltime position, just maybe, shell make love to ME! Just maybe, shell tell her friends about ME! And not the SECRETS! Just maybe!

But then I realize, I am a secret, and the best secrets are never told.

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About The Author Azaan Kamau

Azaan Kamau is an Award winning nationally syndicated journalist, poet, independent publisher and photographer. Azaans passion for writing poetry began in 1983! Since then, Azaan has been published in several publications, has written numerous volumes of poetry that uplift and inspire! After falling in love with
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journalism, her goal is to give voice to people and topics that have been muted or swept under the rug. Azaan is an Award Winning journalist, whose work has given her a distinguished literary reputation. Azaans photographic images have been included in magazines, newspapers, calendars, brochures, postcards, business cards, greeting cards, posters and several exhibits at the prestigious Getty Museum. Azaan uses her art and writing as tools for the edification of all people. Azaan believes through knowledge and understanding there is no force that can oppress us. Recently Azaan won the The Emerging Black Leader of the Decade Award! Azaans publishing companies, Glover Lane Publishing & Azaan Kamau Media are growing and expanding rapidly. Azaan recently published numerous successful books under her new press. Azaan is the author of several bestselling books; In The Midst of My Blackness, Getty Grunge, The Memoirs of Madlyn F. Glover; A Love & Romance with Ray Charles Robinson, and her new book ground breaking book Got Homophobia! Please visit Azaans amazing sites at: www.azaankamau.webs.com www.gloverlanepress.webs.com www.myspace.com/azaankamau azaankamau@gmail.com gloverlanepress@gmail.com FIND ME ON FACEBOOK

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