Thank You, Again

 First you gave me Shubh Mangal Zyada Saavdhan.

Now Badhaai Do.

Thank you Bollywood.

I genuinely didn't think I'd live to see this day.

Can't wait to be 65

I don't expect to make it past 65.

My entire being finds so much comfort in this.

But if I do.

I am smoking again.

YES!

Love Yourself but Not If You're Fat?

GET OVER FATPHOBIA!

If someone's value is depleted to you simply because they're fat

YOU'RE AN ASSHOLE!!!

Calling someone fat isn't an insult!

YOU'RE JUST AN ASSHOLE!!!

Fat people being sexy is valid and if you use "brave" to compliment them,

YOU'RE AN ASSHOLE!!!

We're SYSTEMATICALLY oppressed!

BMI is antiquated!

I can't tell you to be attracted to a fat individual.

But if you compliment a person to be more attractive only if they were/became thinner,

YOU'RE AN ASSHOLE!!!

Superfluous punctuation was intentional.

Thank you for coming to my TEDShout.

I am Judgmental

I am beginning to hate the word "non-judgmental". 

There's a very insidious undertone to not "judging" someone. Often used against the marginalised to "not judge" them for their "lifestyle", the subtext of this is, people who are disabled, 2SLGBTQIA++, and racial minorities are inherently abnormal. People who practice polyamory (not to be confused with polygyny) and sex workers ought to be included here too. Sure, none of the above mentioned groups of people are common but implying that any of them are abnormal is classist at best and racist, homophobic, transphobic, and ableist at worst. And no, racism, homophobia, transphobia, and ableism is not simply causing inconveniences to people within these groups. They cause thousands if not tens of thousands of needless deaths around the world. 

Now I'd say, let's judge!

Let's judge the men who think they're better than women.

Let's judge pedophiles who molest children.

Let's judge racist law enforcers trained in exclusionary supremacist systems.

Let's judge murderers who kill transwomen.

Let's judge!

Still 2018

In reference to this previous post, https://hansondaren.blogspot.com/2021/05/2018.html it's been four years since I last had sex. 

In all honesty, I miss it, I do.

But at this stage, I'm at a place where if it happens, it happens.

Wow, this is a New for Just Me, more Kinks discovered

I am slowly realising and revealing my sexual kinks.

Today I realised another while scrolling through the app catered to gen z.

And because I watch a lot of 2SLGBTQIA++ content, white leftist creators are inevitable.

This sweet, bless him, God awful looking white man turned up on my "for you page" and almost immediately a banter unfurled and concluded in my head in under a minute.

Wow, he's ugly.

But I wouldn't mind doing him.

Wait why? He's white and skinny.

Why am I intrigued, what's doing it for me...

Ok, he's got facial hair.

But he's still white! And so pale to add!

So why?

Oh wait.

Look.

Ah... I see.

Oh... (quickly scrolls through in my head the men I've been with and realised that was indeed something I am turned on by. ALL of them had this)

OMG, ok, time for a Just Me entry.

So here's it is. Hairy forearms. 

And everyone I've been intimate with, I have vivid, albeit completely overlooked memories of playing with their hairy forearms. And as I did I remember feeling a warm fuzzy tingly feeling in my chest spreading right down to my stomach.

Oh God I miss that so much...

As much as I am sex averse, if someone manages to get over my stubborn demi-sexual wall, I actually enjoy physical proximity. I love smelling men's hair freshly shampooed.

I Love the Twist of Fate

During my adolescence, I grew up with my brother alongside two sibling cousins; a boy and a girl. We grew up together not just because we lived nearby and were close in proximity but also because all four of us were born within a four year period. Two boys, one girl, and a misfit non-binary child who naturally developed a proclivity to hang out with the girl. Not to be presumptuous but I say two boys and a girl because not only did they embraced their excruciatingly traditional gender roles, but because they developed no signs of gender dysphoria.

The four of us, being related on our mother's side of the family, were bestowed with ignorant, bigoted Christian relatives. A byproduct of that was Christmas gifts. The boys would receive the exact same gifts typically along the line of toy guns and cars, the non-binary child would receive what the boys got because, you know, they have a penis between their legs, and the girl would get a distinctively different one. Usually pink, often something that fit antiquated gender roles and many times makeup related. 

See here's twist of fate I find so exhilaratingly ironic! I have several fold more makeup than the people that gave her that gifts, plus what my cousin owns. Having also done her makeup for her engagement ceremony, her frivolous wedding dinner and for her aforementioned brother's wedding, in a cathartic reversal of traditional gender roles, I, GAVE her, makeup tips! 

I find myself secretly bemoaning several missed opportunities during the times I did my cousin's makeup to take a jab at my Christian relatives by proclaiming,

"Funny, she was given the toy makeup sets as a child while I got the toy guns!"

Growth

From dissecting my perceived fetish to realising a preference.

You're negatively fetishised only if you're from an opressed minority being objectified by a member of the oppressing majority.

So a white man fetishising Asian or black men. 

Being initially prompted to scrutinise my affinity towards darker skinned individuals here https://hansondaren.blogspot.com/2019/06/i-found-out-something.html I thought my attraction meant I was afflicted with racial fetishism. 

Turns out, there's no such thing as fetishising a group you actually are part of especially when the group is also marginalised and oppressed. 

Candid Speak

I remember the feeling of being in close physical proximity to someone I was initially infatuated or in love with.

I'm also very aware of what happens to a certain appendage with a life of its own when in close physical proximity to some I was initially infatuated or in love with.

Sometimes just sitting next to or being close enough to get a whiff of his natural body odour or perfume would cause a stir to the appendage.

I remember getting the full throbbing "awakening" several times to the point of needing "adjusting". 

See here's where I want to be candid. At what point in a relationship does that stop?

Because I've never had a "relationship" progress that far with anyone.

Having experienced it I can't help but imagining grooms posing in wedding photoshoots, holding their brides in intimate positions, hiding a grower. And what about new couples online that often hug, kiss and display affection? Oh, and what about those like me, with a heavy flow of a certain natural lubricant. 

Does this happen to women?

What If...

Over three decades of discovering layer after layer of what we call life, I've realised that most people aren't equipped to raise children. My parents included.

I've gotten, for as long as I've lived, a roof over my head, food on the table, sound clothes on my back, parents that were there for me (as circumscribed as that is) and privileges so much of the world doesn't have access to. To that, I am sincerely and deeply grateful; basic humanity dictates I be. Qualified or not, yes, this is my fervent attempt to offer consolation to myself that I am not the ingrate I often berate myself to be.

One single difference my parents could have made that would have changed the entire course of my life for the better was to enroll me into dance classes, bharatanatyam classes to be precise.

And even up to a few months ago I always assumed that the ONLY reason being a dancer wasn't a facet of my life (not until my 20s at least) was because my parents never really imagined how much of an impact dance would have on me. Not contempt for the arts as a lesser form of expression for "boys". I assumed so because they had no problems with me travelling to a foreign land to perform. 

I have no shame in admitting that an app catered to Gen Z was what helped me unlearn misogyny, homophobia, both explicit and internalised, and so much more. What I also happened to learn was  parenting, especially how it relates to marginalised, specifically the LGBTQIA++ community. 

There is also the context of where we live in to consider. And to further fuel this proverbial fire, my ill-informed impenetrable parents are no better than any other ignorant cis-het individual (regardless of the policies in their respective countries, societies or localities)! 

There is more to this. As a child I was extremely effeminate. Something that was abhorrent in a family that values patriarchy above all. My parents have called me slurs. I have been verbally abused, MANY times for doing something that came naturally to me; being myself. I walked with a prominent hip sway, I tilted my head and was animated, more than a "boy" should be, when I conversed, I loved dancing (yes, even as a toddler it was apparent since Salangai Oli was my absolute favourite movie) and so much more.

I was closer to my cousin sister, I always wanted her toys.

Because a filter wasn't created as a child, I didn't, at first, hide my love of jewellery and clothing (clothing largely meant for women in these parts of the world).

I was often inclined to mouth the female parts of duets than the male's, in a female voice, noticeably at first and discreetly later as opinions and being reproached killed my spirit for singing. 

I was and am apathetic towards sports and played none (my dad landed his job, in part, due to being a talented football player).

Like every queer assigned male at birth I played with my mom's makeup and tried on her tragically chunky, barely 2 inch tall heels.

Putting two and two together, there is only a single plausible explanation as to why I wasn't sent for Indian classical dance classes. My parents saw a faggot and told themselves, this faggot will only grow up to be an even bigger faggot if we enroll him into dance classes. We need to toughen him up. Sure, here's an idea, martial arts! 

This is not just what I believe happened. This is the absolute truth! Whether or not I was granted access to it. THIS-IS-WHAT-HAPPENED!

And at the tender age when I should have been sent to dance classes, my parents, like every ignorant cis-het parents would do, sent me to martial arts classes. Which I HATED!

In the cusp of adulthood, I convinced myself they did the right thing because I'd grow out of being too effeminate. I could to a certain extend, blend in.

Now, I hate it.

Because sending me to dance classes would have changed my life. 

My body would have been strong.

My soul would have been strong.

I would've continued this pursuit well into adulthood and fell into odissi very naturally.

I would've actually learned discipline and self-control. Martial arts didn't teach me that because I hated it so much.

Had my body and soul be strong, I would have gone on to do things I actually wanted with my life.

And my life would not be the mess it is now.

My parents essentially ruined my life.

Which is why the preface that I appreciate the shelter, food, protection and education they provided was necessary.

You can do all that and still raise a broken human being. 

I don't always address the reader, but...

If you're a parent reading this, listen to your child. 

You should do what they want sometimes.

Deny them the late night, deny them the extra TV time, deny them the over-indulgence in sweets and toys, deny them the gadget until they earn the merit to own one. 

But when they come to you with a passion, nurture it.

My parents saw the signs.

I even performed incongruously, butchering bharatanatyam in my babysitter's home as a child (with photo evidence). It was nevertheless a triumph. I performed as a kindergarten student doing "the twist", and did it so well that I was placed front and middle. 

My parents robbed me of dance.

If I was in a war-torn country, begging for food, or in a poor family trying to make ends meet I'd gladly accept my fate.

My parents paid for my martial arts class which lead me to believe dance classes were deliberately culled.

They apparently took me to the dance class and was discouraged by the teacher because I was too young to be enrolled. Why wasn't I then enrolled a year or two later?

Why martial arts which has been abandoned?

Why am not now an accomplished dancer?