He/him
I live in the midwest. Liberal Democrat.
I love Politics, video games, history, and pop culture.
I just repost and like. Rarely comment or post.
Doggerland.
A map showing Doggerland, a region of northwest Europe home to Mesolithic people before sea level rose to inundate this area and create the Europe we are familiar with today.
Map via National Geographic magazine.
Found an imaginary problem, said only they could fix it, didn’t listen to experts, hired buddies who grifted millions, failed miserably, bragged how great it went.
The entire Trump presidency in a nutshell.
It’s pride month and all I feel is sadness and exhaustion. It’s been a year now since I left Kansas City for Baltimore and I’m glad I was able to get out before they took away our driver’s licenses in Kansas, but it came at a cost.
I’m so lonely here. I miss the people I had to leave, and I feel like they’ve forgotten me. I want to make new friends but the people here don’t understand what it was like there, and I don’t fit in. I feel like I’ll always be a migrant and an outsider.
I left KC recently but that was actually the first place I fled to when I was disowned by my community in central Arkansas. It was people I’d known my whole life, that I grew up with and knew on an intimate level. Being shunned by all of them at once destroyed my sense of self. You don’t realize it until you lost it, but your personhood is reflected back at you from the people you know. And when that disappears it can feel like you don’t exist.
I’ve been trying to regain that ever since.
Since then I’ve turned to the internet to try to find my people, and I’ve found a lot. I’m known of by hundreds of thousands, but they don’t really know me.
I’ve realized that when you have a platform like that, the people you know think they know everything about you because they’ve seen what you post. But what I post is <1% of what I think, and it’s heavily edited. It’s no substitute for actual friendship.
I spend most of my days with my roommates, who moved from Arkansas to KC to Baltimore with me. They’re realistically the only people I trust, the only ones in my life who actually understand my background.
Well them and my cousin in New York, who I visit frequently. He’s gay, and while his immediate family supported him, my parents destroyed the wider family to avoid seeing him. We watch the Razorbacks together and it’s probably the closest I ever feel to normal.
What started as complete rejection from my family and church became a widespread political movement to oppress people like me specifically. Every day Trump says something trashing trans people while he’s warring with Iran and everybody else just expects me to go about my day like it’s not happening. Hating trans people seems like the average opinion in this country today, and it’s just a target on my back I have to be conscious of at all times.
Maryland and Baltimore laws and culture protect me from the worst. I’m grateful for that and relieved I don’t have to spend these years of politically weaponized transphobia in Arkansas or Kansas. I don’t regret the moves I made.
But those moves came at a brutal cost. I had to leave the roots I put down multiple times, and there’s no way to get them back. I don’t know how to get over the feeling of loss and the idea that I dont belong anywhere.
Home is important. There’s a reason people usually stay around it, or at least go back to it from time to time. I can’t go back to mine, and I never even wanted to leave in the first place.
So that’s where my head’s at this pride month. I know that doesn’t fit in with the yas queens and slays that drive pride events. So I mostly stay away because I don’t wanna be the sad sack at the party. But I’m glad some people are able to celebrate. We need that. And maybe one day I’ll be able to join them.