Voices

Greedy. Confused. Slutty. If you’re bisexual, chances are you’ve heard these labels (and worse) thrown at you from all sides, probably even by people you consider friends.

Taking the time to find clothes that I liked, to dye my hair, and get tattooed — for the first time I was building a place of my own.

When I lost that ability for a while, being too weak and swollen to really put the effort in, it felt like I’d lost a part of myself. It felt like I’d regressed, like I’d gotten to the finish line and was forced back into the race.

This is the trap we fall into when we discuss recovery, emotional development, mental health, or body image: believing there’s a destination.

Although I haven't gone out of my way to be naked around my 6-year-old daughter (and we haven't had any direct discussion about my nude body), I certainly haven't hid my body from her either. If I’m in the shower and she needs her hair washed, I'll pull her in with me. If I’m drying my hair, naked as I do, I don’t mind if she's standing next to me brushing her teeth. Why? I don't want her views on what a body is "supposed" to look like to be shaped by the one-sided view the media presents.

The heart wants what the heart wants, and my daughter’s heart is a Lisa Frank landscape made up of sparkles and rainbows and princesses and unicorns. It’s just who she is, and I am OK with that. But what I am not completely fine with is her labeling these preferences as being “for girls” or “for boys.”

I need to know that you love me with all of my brokenness. I need to know that you can see me in my most self-destructive, fucked up place, and you won’t flinch. I need to know that you understand the darkness and that the darkness is a part of you, too.

“My daughter is in kindergarten in the United States. She’s 6. She loves unicorns and mermaids and soccer. And I’m concerned about my community forcing her to share the restroom with men."

I recently spent some time in Freddie Gray's West Baltimore neighborhood asking local women for their thoughts on police reform. I was curious because, as the Freddie Gray trials drag on, I can't help but feel that city and state officials are failing to ask everyday people what needs to change.

I vividly recall standing in front of the bathroom mirror looking at myself as I’d done countless times as a childless person. As myself. As the woman I’d always been until days before. It was like stumbling upon an identical twin I never knew I had — the same, so well-known, yet so alien and unfamiliar.