An Interesting Find

Hi Friends; Searching through this odd little world of the internet, I found this very interesting and almost sacrificial testimony. I was taken by the manner in which the author bared his soul. I could feel pain and anguish in the words, I could feel desperation in the cadence. I realized that I just wanted to reach out and pull this author in for a hug. I wanted to shield him for a few moments from the slings and arrows of the judgemental. I wanted to tell him that he was free to be himself with me. I guess I sometimes spout like I know something; I don't. I find that the more I try, the less I understand....just hoping to fake it, I guess. My history is filled with foolishness, and so often I sought to hide the truth from the world and even myself that I'm finding it difficult to understand what is from what I simply portray. And, that, perhaps is why this struck so interesting. This is someone who understands himself. He understands that he is not like others seem to be, and in that understanding finds that he must hide the truth or suffer the consequences. I don't share this author's sissyness - is that a word? It's just not me. But, I share his realization that his likes are not seemingly acceptable in this culture. I share his desire to be respected and to be able to share himself more openly. And, I admire his ability to speak about it so openly. In this land of the free and of the brave, sometimes it takes a lot of bravery to be free.

Sissy like Nigger is one of the most dangerous words in the American language. Both carry death with them. Both say you’re less than nothing. Not a soul, not a person. You’re fair game for violence even murder. Sissies are non-men. Not men, but not women either. To men Sissies are the ultimate “Other”. In the world of males there’s a gender police. These are fathers, uncles, your brothers your mates, boys from the block. They make sure that the boundaries of Manhood, Guyhood are ‘never’ crossed. No one is allowed to stray into the land of the Other. The realms of Sissy-hood. This fearful frontier is well guarded with threats, and violence. Racial, and religious divides are similarly protected. If a father or guardian suspects that a boy in his care is not right they take action at once. Usually beatings, and humiliations are used. “Do you want to be a woman?!” they shout as they beat, and traumatize these gentle boys. Manhood is the issue. “I’ll make a man of you if it kills you!”, sound familiar? Sometimes father’s have killed sons. Today in our so called era of acceptance. Classmates, and neighbors outright murder young Sissies or drive them to suicide. All this has become the American version of Middle Eastern honor killings. Over the years I’ve come to realize that this suffering is a cruel tradition. An ongoing deadly rite of passage for Sissies, and Queers. A kind of male equivalent to the violent molestation of young girls by trusted family or friends. I wonder what frightens them so much? What is it about Sissies that makes otherwise rational men go violently berserk? …and that is what they do. I have seen this. As I mentioned a boy doesn’t have to be a Homosexual to be a Sissy. Indeed in my life I have sadly found that more than a few so-called gays are either uncomfortable with Sissies or outright despise them as much as straight do. In my view Sissydom isn’t primarily about genital sexuality. Sissydom or Sissyhood is a unique way of honoring life. All life. It’s about having a special awareness of all the world around you. “Sensitive” I remember that was the word that my mother, and aunts used to describe me as a lad. I actually like it because coming from them it was an endearment. A sincerely given one. Some cousins, and classmates had other words for me. So how did I know I was a Sissy, a Queer one at that? When did I know how profoundly different I was from most around me? How did I know I was Sensitive? Each of us has a special moment of realization. For me I was perhaps eight years old. It was fall I was in our school yard, and I was watching the sky. The mornings that time of years are so beautiful. The sky, the deep, deep blue sky. I felt as if I were being lifted up embraced, enveloped by it. The clouds were curled, and briskly sailed across the horizon. The looked like the waves at sea. The churning ocean in Hokusai paintings. I was lost in the beauteous wonder of it all. Indeed so lost, and removed from the gray everyday that I hadn’t noticed that my class had gone in. Sister Alice had to come back out to get me. That simple long ago morning magic was, and is the essence of Sissyhood. Being a Sissy is to have the natural ability to be lost, so lost in beauty, and gentleness that you forget all else. A Sissy does this without trying. No special prayers, no meditations or gurus. It just happens. Of course this blessing, this sensitivity exists in all beings, but in men it’s beaten out of them in childhood. It’s tortured away from them. It’s as if it were surgically removed. It’s gone, and they’ve come to forget they ever had it. However with Sissies it’s different. It’s who we are. Threaten us, beat us all you want we don’t change,..can’t change. We don’t lose it. The sky will ‘always’ be beautiful to us, and we will always say so. We will be taken up by it, and lost in it. I wonder how many Sissies have been martyred for loving the heavens for loving color, sweetness, and gentleness. Amen.

I didn't post the source to this. It isn't for some desire to take credit, but to protect him. He didn't ask me to repost this, he didn't ask me to share his story - but it's a story that seems to cry out for others to hear.