STONEWALLED
It took a horrific shooting at the Pulse nightclub July 13 in Florida this year to razor burn me to awake reality that we are not that far from the terror at Stonewall, New York New York in 1969.
Obama adds National Monument STONEWALL
In fact, our shock and our unprotectedness, at being not guarded "enough" that night almost sets a contrast to the 1960's where peacefully, gays and lesbians rioted.
For those who still ask: "Who wears the pants?" about our people, here is how it goes:
I burn the first pancakes, setting off the smoke detector again. I am wearing athletic shorts and a tee shirt, barefooted, and chubby. I toss cheap bacon so it curls into the frying pan. For the second set of pancakes I carefully place about 24 chocolate chips so that each bite for my teenager will have chocolate in it. I minutely slice strawberries and bananas into the next batch. Our third cousin once removed who is visiting to chill with my great writer teen, who now prefers to not be called "daughter", loves when we create sweet pancakes.
My better half is paying the bills. Although she said: "No bacon" to me and our cousin on Friday, she said we could make the bacon today on Saturday. She is in a typically woman's job: Registered Nurse. She can be nurturing and heal pains, and she can be ballsy and New York City wrapped into one cute lady.
Now, my "wife" is yelling. "Where are the screws? I am returning the power saw, I need all the parts!" Like many husbands, I often misplace things and cop out for being responsible, but I step up to the plate and also often hold two jobs while also being the "stay at home mom".
I have trouble calling her "my wife" because many years ago my first long term partner bought a book to help us understand the gay movement and it said that gays and lesbian want to go against the norm, not be committed or married. Times and words change. Then, as I am leaving for my part time weekend job, she begins to create me better, less mangled pancakes and tells the kids, "We're going hiking..."
It took a horrific shooting at the Pulse nightclub July 13 in Florida this year to razor burn me to awake reality that we are not that far from the terror at Stonewall, New York New York in 1969.
Obama adds National Monument STONEWALL
In fact, our shock and our unprotectedness, at being not guarded "enough" that night almost sets a contrast to the 1960's where peacefully, gays and lesbians rioted.
For those who still ask: "Who wears the pants?" about our people, here is how it goes:
I burn the first pancakes, setting off the smoke detector again. I am wearing athletic shorts and a tee shirt, barefooted, and chubby. I toss cheap bacon so it curls into the frying pan. For the second set of pancakes I carefully place about 24 chocolate chips so that each bite for my teenager will have chocolate in it. I minutely slice strawberries and bananas into the next batch. Our third cousin once removed who is visiting to chill with my great writer teen, who now prefers to not be called "daughter", loves when we create sweet pancakes.
My better half is paying the bills. Although she said: "No bacon" to me and our cousin on Friday, she said we could make the bacon today on Saturday. She is in a typically woman's job: Registered Nurse. She can be nurturing and heal pains, and she can be ballsy and New York City wrapped into one cute lady.
Now, my "wife" is yelling. "Where are the screws? I am returning the power saw, I need all the parts!" Like many husbands, I often misplace things and cop out for being responsible, but I step up to the plate and also often hold two jobs while also being the "stay at home mom".
I have trouble calling her "my wife" because many years ago my first long term partner bought a book to help us understand the gay movement and it said that gays and lesbian want to go against the norm, not be committed or married. Times and words change. Then, as I am leaving for my part time weekend job, she begins to create me better, less mangled pancakes and tells the kids, "We're going hiking..."
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