I often say that femmes are—to quote Garbage—the queerest of the queer. We walk a lonely line between passing in, but not belonging to the straight world, and belonging to, but being invisible in the queer world. …
I graduated high school at 17, and by the time I was 18, the fear of what was to come was overwhelming. I craved assurance that I was going lead a fulfilling life, and it became obvious that to do so, I had to stand up for myself.…
He is waiting for me when I get to the grocery store. His truck is the only one parked in the far corner of the lot. I knock on the passenger side door. He unlocks it, and I get in without him looking at me. He puts the truck in reverse and starts backing out before I even have my seatbelt on. It’s not until we pull out of the parking lot and onto the highway that he finally says…
I’m always having to explain myself. I’m Colombian. Colombian as in coffee, vallenatos, and magical realism. I’m black. Black as in oppression, drum-heavy beats, and tight curls. I’m queer. Queer as in rebellion and unintentionally radical love. And I’m southern. Southern as in barbecues, sweet tea, and big, open skies.…
A third of my heart is buried in the Kentucky hills, a land of rich, black soil that nurtured my mother’s childhood. My father’s parents immigrated to the United States from Austria and Mexico, but my mother’s family has lived in eastern Kentucky for generations—far back enough that we don’t know where many of them originated before Appalachia.…
I am a queer woman, Dianic witch, feminist, femme, multiracial woman, and southerner. I was born in Tennessee, grew up largely in Florida, and now proudly call Texas home. I am a certified sexuality educator, doula, yoga instructor, and a mom to two amazing kids. Needless to say, I am never bored! But while I can now claim these identities as my own, I spent most of my life trying incredibly hard to be someone else.…
