my hand, my voice and choice

photo by wm. blake spencer

lone bird @ forsythe refuge in new jersey

i wonder how someone else

can be so confidently knowledgeable

about the choices that i have

and have not

made.

how can another person

know the intimate,

intricate details of my life

when they have never made the

choice to hear my story,

my feelings, history, hopes...?

and if you do not know me

then tell me how you have the

arrogant audacity to judge me?

more specifically

how can another person

say they know what GOD intended

when GOD breathed life into my

bones and flesh and soul?

how?

how!

how do you know me with such clarity

when you have not taken one minute of your time

to sit with me and listen.

is this what you call

the love GOD has called us to live?

it seems to me

those who judge me

as a gay man

are the ones who have made

a choice.

as i said in my last post

i made choices during my life...

but they aren't the choices you presuppose.

my left hand and my voice

did everything possible to tell my story...

so i made specific and daily choices

to silence their storytelling.

i was about 11 years old when i was looking

through a box of old family photographs.

one not so old photo (at the time)
was taken with

a polaroid instamatic camera

during a christmas eve dinner at a friends house.

it was a picture of me.

i was walking across the room.

i noticed the groovy wide leather watch band

i was wearing on my left wrist.

i also noticed the limp

position of my hand

i didn't know what a limp handed position

meant to other people.

i did know that i had been

called queer and fag

which I did not

choose

to be called

or wish to be called.

i also know that others

who had the authority to do so

chose not to stop the name calling.

at the time i did not know what it meant

to be a queer or a fag for real....

i didn't have information as to what it meant to be gay...

all i knew is that i didn't want

to be called

queer, fag, homo, sissy.

i discerned that it was my left hand

that was causing all the trouble...

so i put my hand under quarantine. 

i kept my hand in my pocket.

i sat on it.

i constantly tried to be aware

of what my hand was doing

so as not to give any clues

to others who chose to notice.

years later when i heard a recording of my voice

i noticed a certain inflection in my speech

i don't know where that inflection came from

and i certainly did not choose to manipulate my

voice in order to sound a particular way

so that others might bully and taunt me...

that is sheer stupidity

and i am not stupid.

without much thought

just as i had become hyper sensitive to

the position of my hand

i gave my voice the same kind of attention.

i diligently worked to be aware

of how i sounded

so that others might be comfortable with me

so that others might respect me...

so that others might choose to consider me

appropriate, and acceptable.

i made a choice around 11 years old

to be constantly aware of my left hand.

i was about 18 years old when i 
made the same choice for my voice.

be aware of how you look,

how you move,

how you sound

this was the never ending mantra of my

silent thinking.

do you understand how much energy

it takes to be hyper sensitive

as to how your body moves and how your voice sounds

all for the sake of other people

so that they might choose to accept you and respect you?

i chose to live this way for over 40 years.

i chose to internally torture myself with fear and shame

until i couldn't do it anymore.

my hand moves freely now.

my voice speaks fully,

because i no longer choose

to live with shame.