Tag: Gay

11..., Lifestyle

11… Lessons Learned in Cambodia and Australia

RaeAnna

A month ago, I was on the trip of a lifetime in Cambodia and Australia. The how that odd combination came about is a bit of a long story, which I will get to at some point in time because I’m notoriously bad at writing about my travels until they’re long passed. 

Seeing the Sydney Opera House for the first time.
Exploring the temples of Angkor Wat.

Anyhow, I was in Cambodia and Australia for three weeks, and it was the best goddamn trip of my entire life. It was life changing; then, it was more life changing. I think it’s going to be one of the most life altering, influential trips of my life. Before this trip, I was working towards a future, but, now, I am incredibly excited about my future. 

While on my trip, there were a lot of life lessons. I would love to admit they were new and earth shattering. They weren’t. They were all things I knew cognitively and have preached but not really done because I’m a giant hypocrite. So, here are some of the lessons I learned while I was traversing the globe. 

Playing in the ocean at Sunset Beach on Koh Rong Sanleom, Cambodia.
  1. Cambodia is not at all close to Australia. I booked my trip within a trip thinking, ‘Gee, I’m already on that side of the world. Can’t be that long of a flight.’ Jokes on me. The flight from Sydney to Kuala Lumpur was longer than the longest flights I’d been on before this trip by a chunk. They may be close in time zones, but they’re in completely different hemispheres. I promise, I’m not dumb.
  2. Let friends help. I’m so bad at accepting help. My trip started off… Well, I legitimately had a panic attack before I’d even arrived at my gate in Houston. This trip was almost the very worst experience of my life. I’m me and can figure it out. But more importantly, I accepted help that was given freely and with love from a few very close friends. Hindsight, so fucking glad I did. My entire trip would’ve been miserable otherwise.
  3. Just go. I was a bit anxious about Cambodia. Likely not for the reasons you’re thinking. It’s the first time I’ve been in a country where I don’t speak the language. Not even a little bit. I knew NOTHING. I picked up some. Very little. I tried. Khmer is beautiful. I wasn’t perfect at it, but the people are amazing, and I didn’t need to be.  
  4. Spend the money. I have always been on the save, save, save for vacations so I can spend, spend, spend whatever I want (within budget) on the trip. I have always enjoyed just doing and buying the things I never would in my real life while traveling. This trip went a bit different. I’m also older. I spent money in a different way than I used to. I came home with almost nothing because I didn’t really want anything. I spent a bunch of money on doing stuff and staying in cool places. 
  5. Don’t spend the money. There were a lot of factors in not spending money on things. I’m older than I used to be and have more stuff than I know what to do with. I also no longer believe I need souvenirs to remember a trip by. Although, I would really love a chair from Cambodia. Pictures are now my keepsake of choice. I also had the constraint of changing places almost every day and bopping between CONTINENTS and having to carry everything. I had a plethora of opportunities to spend money on things. I chose not to. A month later, I don’t regret it. 
  6. I have cell phone service in the Cambodian jungle. I can facetime my dogs from a remote Cambodian island. But I couldn’t send a text from Grand Canyon National Park. The RIM. Not even IN the canyon. This will never cease to amaze me. 
  7. Let your friends bully you. I mean, not in the realest definition of the word ‘bully,’ but in the friendly, they-love-you-and-want-the-best-for-you way. I listened to my friend, Sabina, and that literally changed the trajectory of my future. I will be forever grateful. 
  8. Trust your gut. I am notorious for overriding my gut feeling. In everything from life to love. My gut has always, always, always been right. Why did it take me this fucking long to listen to it. I trusted my gut the entire trip, and I’ve never had a better, easier trip in my entire life. 
  9. Trust strangers. This is actually something I’ve always been pretty good at. There was a moment when I was 30 minutes into a tuk tuk ride, taking me out of the capital into rural Cambodia, passing cows and farmland with a man I had just met three hours earlier, munching on lotus he’d bought me, no questions asked, and the thought ‘Hmmm… this could’ve been a bad idea.’ Except it was a brilliant idea! I trusted my gut, which lets me trust strangers. Which turns strangers into friends. And friends make life so much more fun. FYI Bunna is the kindest man and best tuk tuk driver. If you’re ever in Phnom Penh, I’ll give you his number.
  10. Keep your heart and mind open. It’s the best way to travel. It’s the best way to live. It’s always led me in really interesting directions. I think it might be leading me into the most exciting adventure of my life.
  11. Go for it. Don’t look back.

Bisous und обьятия!

Looking at Popokvil Waterfall in Bokor National Park.
A baby Northern pig-tailed macaque watching from the trees in Bokor National Park outside of Kampot, Cambodia.
Learning how to surf at Bondi Beach in Sydney, Australia.
Books, Reading Lists

A Gay Little Reading List

RaeAnna

Representation is vital.

For every single minority group and person.

This picture just makes me happy.

We live in a world of spectrums and differences. All of it, every single one, should be depicted in art, media, news, books, everything. The world cannot grow into a better one if we ignore all the people who do not fall in the category of cishet, white people/men because cishet, white women hold minority status too, though with marked privileges. 

I have always, especially since the inception of this blog’s first iteration, tried to read diverse books written by diverse voices and as few white dudes as manageable. My mind and heart can’t grow, evolve, or be challenged if I’m not exposed to ideas, views, and the realities of others. It’s easy to get caught in a bubble, and I try really hard to not get stuck in one specific bubble for too long. 

This photoshoot was done as a surprise for a friend, but I also turned it into a gay book stack photo when I grabbed a bunch of queer books. Soccerwomen is not inherently queer, but have you seen women’s soccer? It’s real gay. Some of these books I’ve read; some I’ve not. Either way, it’s Pride. So if you’re looking for something queer to read, try one of these. If you’ve read all of these, read them again, or DM me so I can give you more options. 

The Disenchantment Celia Bell
Soccerwomen Gemma Clarke
The Queen’s English Chloe C. Davis
Queerly Beloved Susie Dumond
Save Yourself Cameron Esposito
Girl, Woman, Other Bernardine Evaristo
Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe Fannie Flagg
The Queer Bible Jack Guinness
Hijab Butch Blues Lamya H. 
Queer Love in Color Jamal Jordan
Sister Outsider Audre Lorde
The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo Taylor Jenkins Reid
Transgender History Susan Stryker

bisous und обьятий,
RaeAnna

11..., Lifestyle, So Gay

11… Reasons I’m Proud… of Myself

RaeAnna

This is hard. Necessary. But hard.

Human and happy.

It’s Pride Month, and my heart hasn’t been in it, which is fine and life. Some years, things hold less weight in our hearts or minds than other years, and that’s okay. But I need to care a little bit because I am le gay, and I can’t not. So here I am, forcing myself to Pride for the last eleven days, and I’m starting in the most uncomfortable way I can.  

Being proud of literally anyone I know is so easy for me. Like… have you seen people? Pretty incredible. Okay, less so for white dudes. I’m so proud of my people for just being them. To the point I could explode with how incredible and strong I know they are. 

How do I do that? How do I give myself even a modicum of grace I give everyone else? What have I done deserving enough of pride? Nothing. That is my visceral answer. That is what I truly believe to my core. I have done nothing nor am I worthy of being proud of myself. I know, logically, this is not true, but it feels true. My internal monologue can be boiled down to: feelings fighting logic. Feelings never win out against logic. Except when logic is trying to convince my feelings that I’m a good or decent human deserving… anything remotely on the cusp of kindness. Pride falls into this strange category of feeling based on logical analysis. Or it is, at least, for me.  

Making myself create a list of reasons I’m proud feels like a form of self-harm; though, I know, it’s actually a good exercise in self-love, which is indicative that I love myself. I do not. I am solidly pretending that I love myself. Fake it til you make it. Going on 32 years, I’ve gotta have a breakthrough at some point in time. It’s not today, but over the course of 16 days—truly started this one a hot minutes ago—I came up with this list. I stretched. Maybe #12 should be: I’m really proud I finished this list and actually put it into the world. 

Just a Pride photoshoot. Nothing to see.
  1. I came out. Simultaneously the easiest and hardest thing I’ve ever done. 
  2. I am alive.
  3. I got tattoos. I now have ten with appointments for two more this fall. They make me happy. They make my body feel like it belongs to me just a little bit. My tattoos are personal and public reclamation and declaration.
  4. I don’t respond to my parents’ anymore.
  5. I cut out toxicity. The people who made me feel anxious, less than, unworthy, undeserving, too much. I shut out the people who wouldn’t or couldn’t match me. Being in my life is an investment, just like I believe being in other people’s lives is an investment; so I’m not making shitty investments anymore. 
  6. My puppies are safe and loved. In 2020, I spent a lot of time, money, and emotion rescuing and raising a dog and her thirteen puppies. Every single one of them is safe, happy, loved, and thriving in their furever homes. 
  7. I’m chasing peace rather than chaos.
  8. I’ve sought out friends who accept me as I am.
  9. I keep going.
  10. I’m trying really hard. 
  11. I’m making an effort to be vulnerable with those who have earned it. 

bisous un обьятий,
RaeAnna

In My Own Words, Lifestyle, So Gay

Gay A Synonym For Happy, So Gay Pride 2022

RaeAnna

The very first Pride I ever went to was ten years ago in London, albeit accidentally. I haven’t been to one since. I have celebrated every single Pride month in some way for twelve years—a year before I came out as pansexual. 

“Can’t Even Think Straight” True Facts

I’ve never really been to Pride. As an extreme introvert with zero gay friends in Houston, I haven’t had anyone make me go or go with me. As soon as my life included people, straight but supportive people, who would happily accompany me to Pride, the pandemic hit, and Pride was canceled for two years; though, I put on my own Pride Parade, dressing up my six dogs in 2020. 

The pandemic put stress on the seams of my life that I had been so desperately mending as they tore until I couldn’t do it anymore. I let every seam pop, and my life is just a jumble of fabric and thread at this point. Eventually, I’ll figure out how to sew it all back together, but I’m in the process of figuring out how I want the pieces to fit together because what was didn’t work. 

Over the last two years, I have become more and more outspoken about being gay. I’ve never hidden this part of myself since coming out eleven years ago, but being in straight passing relationships made it a bit more complicated. And it is exhausting arguing with people over my own identity. Two years ago, I decided to stop letting exhaustion deter me from calling people on their heteronormativity. A conversation worth having for myself but also for every other queer person so maybe one day it no longer needs to be had. Six months ago, I came out as lesbian. 

Gay, queer, lesbian. They’re all identities I happily wear. 

Living my best gay life surrounded by a bunch of circles.

Sometimes I feel like my life has been nothing but doing hard things. Thirty-one years of just getting by, biding my time until the next tragedy creeps in. In my early twenties, I chose to walk away from a cushy corporate life to pursue a career in doing the hard things. I spend my time learning and writing about this life and this world of inequity, violence, and struggle. As someone who has chosen to always have the hard conversations, to stand up for what I believe is right, to never stay quiet, to not accept what is as what can be, my career and beliefs, though rooted in kindness, has alienated everyone in my life who do not believe in working to create a better world. We do not have to hold the same opinions or beliefs, but my people cannot actively cultivate ignorance, hate, violence, or worse ambivalence. So, I am well acquainted with watching people walk away. 

My life has been a series of doing hard things, but coming out was the easiest thing I’ve ever done. 

As someone whose life revolves around gender and racial equity and human sexuality, as a gay someone, I am well acquainted with the fears my community has when they come out, when we live our lives in the open. I know the privilege I have as a straight passing woman. A 5’10” woman who can hold her own in a fight against a man. A white woman. An American woman. A cis woman. A woman with an education and the words to tell my story and defend my actions and understand the consequences of my choices. I choose to come out at every opportunity. I chose to get very gay tattoos in very visible places. I choose to put rainbows on everything. I choose to call myself gay and lesbian and queer. I choose to be loud and proud because so many people never had the chance. So many live in fear because they are who they are. 

My community has fought for the rights we have. We have died to be where we are today. Yet three days ago, I listened to a fifteen year old girl talk about her parents refusing to acknowledge her sexuality because she’s not straight, maybe bi, maybe lesbian. The fact a fifteen year old feels comfortable enough to call herself gay is such an amazing win, but the fight is not over. Especially if we look at what is playing out in the highest court of this nation and the repercussions of the decision and overturning of Roe v. Wade will have for women and my community. 

Blue and yellow are my favorite colors, so yes for this wall.

Pride is a celebration. It’s a celebration of who we are. It’s a celebration I hold in my heart and life every fucking day because Pride isn’t a month, it is my life. It is the lives lost to violence and ignorance; the lives lost to hopelessness; the lives lost to a lack of health care; the lives lost fighting for equity. Pride is a remembrance of every person who has come before so that we can wear rainbows and dance in the street. Pride is honoring the pain that has led to joy and love and laughter. Pride is hope that the struggles and fights we continue to face will be alleviated for the queer people of tomorrow. 

So yeah, I’ve made gay a huge part of my personality in the last two years. Because I’m fucking proud. I’m proud of my community. I’m proud of myself. I’m proud of who I am, and it has taken me thirty-one years of doing the hard things so that I could have this one easy thing. 

I am gay. I am lesbian. I am here. I am loud. I am proud. I will be at Pride in Houston whether that is with my people or by myself. If you need people, I’ll be your people. Because I’m proud of you too. We’re not perfect, but gay is a synonym for happy, so here’s to a Gay Fucking Pride and celebrating exactly who we are because we are exceptional.  

In My Own Words, Lifestyle

My Favorite Love Story; Happy Birthday, Alex

RaeAnna

Alex is the person I have written about most. In a way, he’s at the heart of every word I write, and my heart will always write about him. He turned 33 two days ago, and for the first time in a few years, I wasn’t able to celebrate with him. I didn’t post anything the day of because I couldn’t come up with words to say, and, if I’m being honest, I will never be good enough with words to properly convey what he means to me. 

This is and always has been who we are together.

I have spent twelve birthdays loving Alex. My entire adult life. I used to believe all love was conditional, but over the last twelve years, he has proven time and time again that some love comes without strings, rare though it may be. Through college, break ups, an enlistment, deployments, vacations, cross-country moves, deaths, coming outs, falling in love, buying cars, growing up, fights, and so much more, we have persevered. 

At 31, I’m not old, but I’m no longer young. I can look back on the stunningly complicated life that I have led because Alex came into my life. Thank you choir. Every person we encounter shapes us in some small way, but there are people who are fundamentally impactful. Looking at my life, Alex is the fundamental human for me. I am who I am because of him. I am because of him. Every story I tell, I get to tell because he showed me I was worth loving, that life isn’t just pain. Life can also be joy. He saved my life in the abstract but also held my head above water many years ago. 

Falling in love isn’t a choice, but the act of loving someone is a choice. To stay, to work, to be present, to ask the hard questions, to show up, to admit fault, to forgive, to see someone at their worst and at their best, to communicate, to be compassionate, to challenge, to support, and all the in betweens, that is a choice. An active choice made every moment of every day in big and little ways. Alex has made the choice to love me even when he has had every reason to walk away. From the very beginning, if he were any less of the man he is, he would have and should have walked away. When we broke each other’s hearts, he could have walked away. When I came out, he could have walked away. He never has. I hope he never will. At this point, there’s only so many life altering things I can drop in his lap.  

Our love started in college. A grand, sweeping love. The kind I dove into with body and soul. The kind that is devastatingly beautiful. A once in a lifetime kind of love. I knew the moment we kissed I would die loving him, and I will. Though, I’ll never wear white or have children with him, I will grow old by his side—good lord, I hope his future wife likes me. We have never been a perfect couple; there is no such thing. To me, he will always be perfect. The pain. The love. The tears. The laughter. The life we built and lost. The love we found and have worked to maintain. It is all perfect. We are my favorite love story. Love cannot conquer all (it’s the gay bit), but it has conquered so very much.

One of my favorite pictures of us.

Life didn’t play out the way I saw it at 19. Although, looking back, I’m not exactly sure what I saw for us. I saw him. He saw me. There have been so many twists and turns to get lost in the way I used to get lost in his eyes in our bed ten years ago. I’m not going to go down the what if road because I am who I am and he deserves to find someone who is not gay. I don’t think I would change a single thing about our story. It’s beautiful and sad. If I could go back, I would tell myself to give more grace, be angry less, communicate more, be vulnerable, tell the hard truths, stop being strong all the time, lean into him because he loved me as I was, as I am, and there’s nothing I could have done that would change that. 

I will never love anyone the way I have and do love Alex. A love I could spend forever writing about, and I might. A love that I can’t explain but I feel so deeply. It’s transcendent. 

In My Own Words, Lifestyle, So Gay

The Gay Is Here To Stay: I Got Tattooed

RaeAnna

I recently took a trip to Denver, and while I was there, I decided to get two tattoos. I’ve kept them hidden on social media as they heal, and I wanted to show a few important people the finished product in person before announcing it to the world. So without further ado, these are my new tattoos.

Two concentric circles in the Pride Flag and Lesbian Flag colors.
I think I’m really funny.

If you can’t tell by the ink, I’m gay. Both hold meaning, one more than the other. My journey to being a lesbian has been long, varied, and quite the story, and I wanted to get something to commemorate that while also acting as a reminder to be boldly myself always.

A few years ago, I knew I wanted to get a gay tattoo because I’ve been out of the closet for over a decade now. As I do, I take my time to mull all the infinite options over. I thought I wanted a rainbow ear cuff. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that was not actually what I wanted. It didn’t give me the “yes, that’s what I need” factor. So, I turned to a Pinterest search. Rainbow dots, flowers, hearts, etc. Not my thing. I decided I wanted to put whatever it would be just above the inside of my right elbow. I saw a line with gradient rainbow colors. I liked that, but… why the fuck would I want anything straight tattooed on my body?? The answer: I do not.

Circles are hugely symbolic in literature, nature, life, myth, etc. There’s no beginning or end. It made a lot of sense to have a rainbow circle. Pride! As I thought on it more, why stop at one circle and just the pride colors? I could have two concentric circles with the inner circle made up of the lesbian flag colors. I’m a genius. The moment the idea came to me, I had that feeling I always get when I know something is right. It doesn’t come often, but when it does, I pursue it with everything I’ve got.

I love the idea of concentric circles for this one because I am a lesbian—the inner circle—belonging to a larger community—the outer circle—of beautifully unique people living their authentic lives. I don’t want to hide that, and I no longer can since I have it tattooed on my left forearm.

Why is it not just above the inside of my right elbow ? Well, there’s some unintentional yet deeply meaningful overlap. One of my closest friends and someone I love with all my heart has two concentric circles in that exact spot. Though my tattoo is colorful and much bigger, I wasn’t about to have an exceptionally similar tattoo in the same exact spot as one of my people. The reason she got her tattoo was in honor of her dog, Nigel, who passed away after prolonged illness in March. He wasn’t my dog, but I loved him as much as my own babies. I was a huge part of his last few months, and my life revolved around my friend and him as she tried everything to get him better. But he passed far too soon, and it broke me wide open.

They make me happy.

Her tattoo was in the shape of his dog tag. So though I came up with the idea for my tattoo completely separately, the added meaning made it even more poignant for me. I will carry Nigel’s memory with me forever. I don’t need a tattoo to remember him, but his memory is subtly etched on my skin the way he not so subtly carved a choco-taco lab shaped spot in my heart. He really was just the best boy. The thing is, his memory will always be intertwined with his mom because I wouldn’t have gotten to know him without her. She came into my life when I had no idea I needed her and quickly became one of my favoritest people for more reasons than I can enumerate. She is also gay and well that’s a much longer story, but she has inspired, challenged, and helped me reclaim some very integral parts of who I am in the short time we have known each other, and I expect it’s only going to get better. As a writer and advocate, I know the importance of people and connection, and I believe in honoring those who impact our lives. I could probably write a piece about how influential she is, but you know an accidental matching-ish tattoo works. As a survivor, I don’t let many people in, but when I met her, I had the same feeling I had with three other people who would go on to be fundamentally impactful on my life. I knew from the first time we hung out that she would be immensely important in my life, and she has. Again the tattoo’s connection was absolutely incidental, but I love layered meaning.

After I realized why the idea of concentric circles felt so familiar, it then felt odd but not odd enough that I didn’t do. There were lots of discussions had on if I should scrap the idea completely, but I chose to keep the idea and change the location. Because at the end of the day, it also just made it feel more right. Weird but right. So very on brand for me. Luckily she’s weird too and doesn’t hate it. Or she’s lying to me because it’s a fucking tattoo and not going anywhere so she had to accept it either way. But she is the one who took these pictures, so there’s that. Lucky her, she made me look cute, so she’s found herself a new job: my personal photographer.

I will show this one of for years to come.

ga(y)me on Fun fact, I am very competitive. It manifests in subtle ways, but if it can be a competition, it will be a competition. I’m also cocky as fuck. Especially when I shouldn’t be. If I’m atrocious at something “Game on, bitch.” I have been saying “game on” since high school. Staring down the starting o-line in a fun game of tackle football in college? Game on. You want me to try water skiing for the eighteenth time, knowing full well I will not get up. Game on. Help you tile your bathroom having zero experience? Game on. Rescue a dog and tend to her thirteen puppies? Game on. Want to play a game of Scrabble? Sure. Let’s have a trivia night. Sounds nice. If I’m good at something, you won’t know until I have wiped the floor clean of your loser sweat. With a smile, obviously: I’m not an asshole.

I was in a sleep-deprived, depression induced, anxious state of mania when I said “Game on.” Wait… gayyyyme on. I was so excited about my pun, I called my best friend in Denver and told her I would be getting that tattooed on my right finger when I came to visit. I do not feel the need to explain why that finger. If you know, you know. She said, “Let’s sleep on it, and revisit.” Yeah okay. Game on. I knew it was happening. It happened. I did it. She was hesitant until the tattoo gun hit my finger, and then she was like… well, okay.

I would be lying just a little bit if I said I didn’t get it as a huge flirt because I really fucking did. I know this shit is adorably cocky and competitive. It’s also a pun. It’s also gay. It’s also funny. Every person I show giggles and quickly follows it up with “That is very RaeAnna.” It is. It’s such a dumb tattoo, and it makes me brilliantly happy. I show it off a lot. I am also really excited to explain what game on means to my great nieces and nephews. That’s all the meaning there is to this tattoo. I wanted it. It makes me happy. I did it.

Those are my tattoos. I love them very much.

Yay gay! I got them at Old Larimer Street Tattoo in Denver, Colorado from Johnny Campa, a fantastic artist and human!