Cincinnati 

After 34 days and 5 flight cancellations I am finally on my wayback home to New York. writing in the sky gives me so much more clarity than I feel on the ground, perhaps its the detachment from my phone or from the world itsself and I often feel like I can stay up here forever. After losing my job in June my LA vacation didn’t seem like it was enough, and I was already trying to find the perfect time to visit Ohio for a weekend so with the last several hundred dollars I had I booked an inexpensive flight back to Cincinnatii where I planned to stay for two weeks and refresh my mind and soul. 
Meanwhile so much seemed to happen without me, good and bad, the night before I left there was a train derailment, while I was gone there was a second derailment, and (train) track fire, a prisoner “escaped” from Rikers Island, two people who are basically like collegues got married, Blac Chyna was sexuallly victimized, Beyonce announced the names of her twins confirming their birth, I finally met two guys in Cincinanti that I’d been talking to onlline and texting for over a year and the courtship between the trans guy I met in LA ended in an emotioanlly violent crash and burn (you’ll be able to read more about him and I in the future). July 10th my flight was cancelled and my trip was extended by another week. An unexpected but refreshing change because it allow me to truly have a free week about me and not entertaining old friends, something I love, but is honestly exhausting. July 17th my flight was cancelled which bought me another 6 days, by that time I was more than ready to get back to New York. Responsibly and adulthood awaited me in the form of bills and overpriced living; excuse me, overpriced existing. 
I’ve learned so may things about myself coming back to Cincinnati (one being I need to think twice before booking with American Airlines again) and was often refreshed on why I left in the first place. The things I’ve learned I plan to share with all of you in the coming weeks and months. But one thing I must keep reteaching myself is its a Cis Jungle and girls like us just live in it.

June 

1.Summer

2.Work

3.Work

4.An inspiring Sunday

5.Welcome Nick Johnson

6.The Angry Black Woman

7.Self care

8.Hello again LA/ TOM

9.Bored JoJo Sleepy Carmen

10.Melrose, top knots and Basketball Wives 

11.LA Pride

12.Facebook Live

13.Happy Birthday Sir Carter & Rumi/ Bye LA

14.Personal day

15.Fired

16.Research

17.Hotspot 

18.Meditation

19.The Cis Jungle

20.Macy’s Pride Awards presented by the NYC Comptroller’s office

21.Arisce Wanzer and friends

22.NYC Pride and the Mayors Mansion

23.Sacrifice

24.Netflix no chill

25.Pride Parade 

26.Journal

27.Janet Mock

28.Hello Cincinnati

29.Lucy

30.I’M BACK!

Pride 

This June instead of posting to The Cis Jungle I chose to stay silent. Intentionally silent. It was was my of way of silently protesting; the opposite of what is trendy right now. The Resist Trump protest/movement predominately led by the white gays is almost comical to me. Take a look around at the existence and lives of other LGBTQ+ folks and honestly proclaim there wasn’t a need for a movement before Trump. We as the community we claim to be suffer gross injustices every single day for decades and centuries but we allowed many of them to go unchecked. There are queer people suffering everyday and have long before this current president. Many of those making noise now are doing so because for the first time they are now feeling the pain personally. So I chose to be silent the way I am silenced everyday.

When will you see me? 

As I grow older I realize that much of my pain comes from the invisibility I experience. I am invisible as a trans woman literally being erased with every new death of trans women around the world. My pain as a black person is invisible people who are black just don’t get it they don’t get me. And as a woman my words are invisible, overlooked and ignored, but i am visual stimulation for sexual desire and the male gaze.
I want so earnestly to been seen as how I see myself and the question I fight to have answered is “when will you see me?”

7 non negotiables

1. makeup to cover my blemished face
2. high heels that have given me confidence I didn’t know existed

3. music which narrates my life 

4.fashion- which has given me confidence, meaning and valdiation

5. burgers and fries, an embarrassing admission but something that reminds me I am human

6.laugther I am easily one f the funniest people I know

7. children something I do not yet have or know if I will ever have, but I don’t want to imagine a life without the possibility

Who am I? 

I spent much of this month overwhelming myself with the question; Who am I? In my mid twenties I had no idea. The career I’d innocently and naively dreamed of as a child seems so far removed.  
Personal and professional disappointments plagued me and I find it difficult to envision and imagine myself clearly beyond my fights for equality AND equity. 
One thing I know for certain was this sentimental, empathetic, joyous, hopeless romantic, was……….is disappearing more and more with everyday. I don’t know where or who that person is anymore.

I try to be happy and remain happy, but I’m not. So I try to at the least have gratitude and consciously practice gratefulness. But I’m still in search of the answer to my question, who the fuck am I?

Lemonade pt 3 

Here is my one year reflection of Lemonade  written in April 23, 2017;
“One year ago to the month I wrote a critic of Beyonce’s Lemonade. from the moment I wrote my original impromptu critic of bell hook’s critic of Lemonade on my flight to New York City the place where I now live (interesting and purposeful how things come full circle), I knew I wanted to give myself a year to allow the grandeur and excitement of the moment to subside and more accurately access my feelings

I’d followed Beyonce since I was 12 years old and as I grew a more accurate and defined critical lens, I looked at her and saw we were in two different places. Even into my adulthood Beyonce has always held space in my life no matter her politic but from 2003 when she released her debut solo album to last year, thirteen years later in 2016 when she released Lemonade. There has been a true and undeniable evolution. 

In moments where I close my eyes I see and visualize clips from the visual album and envision myself amongst these women. While I do feel there could have been more of a conscious and collaborative effort to incorporate trans women (beyond over glorified trans mascots like Laverne Cox I am personally fine with her not being able to make the album), and disabled women and fat women, there is always room for growth. These black bodies, admired, beautiful in their purest existence, in unity celebrated and effortlessly normalized. 

 The truth is 12 months after the release of this visual album I am still, if not more in love with Lemonade than the first time I saw it. Its hard to appreciate the true power without watching it. Nearly every song on the album resonated with me. 

When I listen to the music and watch the mini movie I am always transformed and a sense of reverence comes over me. Nearly ever song resonated with me 6 inch, Love Drought, Hold up, Formation, All night, Don’t Hurt Yourself, Daddy Lessons, Sorry, and Freedom.
Perfect? No. But how attainable and real is perfect? To me it was impressive and admirable to see Beyonce’s feminism grow and evolve so visibly. I definitely believe Beyonce has a road ahead of her in her search for the purest form of liberated black feminism, but I think we all do. For the first time in my life I saw such a powerful presence and motivator and hero of my childhood, my past merge with the the ideologies and beliefs and most important values to me of today. My childhood hero, Beyonce and my life today, the fight for equity, justice, and liberation collide and come full circle. “