It’s been quite a weekend!  As I reminded folks on Facebook and Twitter this weekend,  for many queers, Mother’s Day is filled with lots of pain and longing and anger and fear and just about any other emotion far from happiness you can come up with. It’s a tricky time for many queer folks and each year to varying degrees I consider myself among them. This year, much to my own surprise was for whatever reason, one of the harder years.  I spent a lot of the day practicing self care and staying far away from the onslaught of messaging about the wonder and beauty and love of mothers hat not only has been permitting the mass media but even my really really queer Facebook feed. Early in the morning I ended up posting “Stopped looking @ FB this morning because it’s all Mother’s Day. if today is a good day for you, then I’m happy for that. But please, remember that for MUCH of your Queer community, today is not something to celebrate. #KickedOut #FamlyViolence” For me creating distance from everyone celebrating was a really great form of self care, and enabled me to move on with my day doing other things, things that made me feel good about myself, my life, and the family that I’ve built. Its “holidays” like this, the ones that unlike Christmas and Easter and Halloween  etc. (which y’all know I’m bananas about) I haven’t reclaimed  and made part of my family, are the trickiest ones for me to personally navigate, but they also  make me think most of Kicked Out.  The contributors to Kicked Out remain some of the most incredible people I’ve ever had the opportunity to work with, and I’ll never be anything less than shocked and impressed by the work that all the contributes did to create space within our communities to talk, for the first time in a book about what it meant to not have family- to have been kicked out, thrown out, or ran away.

here we were!

The highlight of my weekend was having the chance to speak at the Oregon Queer Youth Summit!  I wrote a little about the event when I first was invited, specifically about what queer youth organizing in Oregon had meant to me, how I’d been involved in planning the very first OQYS, and what a tremendous honor it was to have been asked to return now ten years later and deliver the keynote!!! There were over 200 youth registered to attend this year, and even via SKYPE (we all live in the future! How cool is that?!) I could feel what a warm, excited, and enthusiastic group of youth I was getting the chance to meet!

My keynote address was a spinoff of the speech I give called “Nobody loves you. Now What?”  which while a bit about the epidemic of LGBTQ youth homelessness, is more than anything about building chosen queer families, and the importance of telling your story, whatever story that is.  Supporting the creation of chosen family, is a topic that is central to not only my own life, but also all the work and one of the constant themes that runs through my three books, as well as the future books that I’ve started working on.  It was such a  tremendous honor to have the chance to go back to Oregon and SMYRC, the places where I first learned to build family, and talk about these themes with the youth of today!

After I spoke we did a Q&A and the youth asked lots of really awesome questions which was exciting, they wanted to know everything from what my chest tattoo says and means — which brought on a story about Portland, and SMYRC and the work we did with Kate Bornstein through “The Language of Paradox” performance/writing group which changed my entire outlook on art, creativity and my place within those worlds (a whole different blog post I probably should write sometime soon : ) ) to how long Kestryl and I have been together (9 years), how to stop LGBTQ youth homelessness, and one of my favorites – am I excited about coming back to SMYRC to be part of the book/writing group?  The answer obviously being OMG YES!!!!  SMYRC is in the process of purchasing a bulk order of Roving Pack which the youth involved in the book club are going to be reading, discussing, and then I’ll be using SKYPE to visit with them and have a conversation about the novel!  I think that’s going to be happening sometime this summer and will definitely be blogging about the experience!

I’m incredibly grateful to Cascade AIDS Project, SMYRC, The Q Center and all the volunteers in Portland that made OQYS posible this year, and who brought the technology together to enable me to participate!

 

 


One of the first things that stands out to people about Kicked Out are the hauntingly gorgeous photographs by Samantha Box that are scattered through the anthology. Sam is based in NYC and has continued to photograph LGBTQ homeless youth building a body of work she calls the “Invisible Project.”  I am thrilled to announce that she and I in partnership with BGSQD (a new popup queer bookstore) will be joining forces for an event this month!

Sam’s work is up in a gallery show at the bookstore this month, and on February 17th I’ll be there talking about Kicked Out and doing a reading from my new novel Roving Pack which is about homeless queer youth. I’m so thrilled to have the opportunity to partner with Sam, and to help highlight her incredible photography. This event is also a particularly exciting opportunity for me to be able to combine my work with Kicked Out and Roving Pack , to in some ways put them in conversation with eachother, and most importantly utilize them to continue dialogue and awareness raising within queer community about the epidemic of LGBTQ youth homelessness!

Sunday February 17th – 7pm

BGSQD 27 Orchard St. NYC

 

I’m sick on my couch with a fever trying to beat this nasty bug that has laid me flat for most of the weekend. I debated if I would write this blog post at all, but I can’t allow myself to let today pass without mentioning what it means to me, especially as outside a cold cold pacific northwest kind of rain is falling. I think most of us kicked out folks, most of us who have runaway, been thrown away, or escaped in someway have a date that sticks in our mind, one that we watch creep closer on the calendar each year. For me it’s February 11th.  There are other days, one in September when I left my birth mother’s home, but that one tends to impact me less.

On Monday February 11th 2002 my entire world changed. My dog trainer who was my first attempt at building my own family, and who I had been living with for six months since leaving my birth mother’s home called me at school and told me never to come back to her home. She had read my carefully hidden journal and discovered that I was queer. I never had a chance to explain myself, though really I don’t think there was anything I could have said. She gave me 72 hour to rehome my dogs, I was homeless, no job, no car, 17 years old.

I had no options. Within 24 hours I went from Sunday at an agility trial – the last time I would compete, to Monday where I was
homeless and worst of all dog less.  I have a few pictures from those years and amongst the few bits of my past that moved from a leaking storage barn and then with me from punk house to punk house was a VHS tape of some recorded runs – mostly from very early competitions. A couple years ago a dear friend who’s also a filmmaker offered to try to digitize the VHS- and it worked (I’d been afraid it was too damaged to save).  Here is a short clip from some early novice runs of Snickers and I – this is the first time I’ve ever publicly shown any of this footage:

 

 

“Did you know that a pack will fight to the death to protect one of its own? They will forgo escape routes to stay behind. They do not leave, no matter the pain. The ultimate trust. They will never give up until their bodies fail. Perhaps I was human after all. I’d saved myself, but failed my pack….” – Kicked Out

 I have a strange relationship to February 11th. It’s both the day that the rural dog agility trainer girl that I was died, and the day that the queer activist was born. Within days I would find my mission to work in queer communities that I hadn’t even known existed. This year, as every year on this day I take stock of how far I’ve come what I have made of myself and what I hope to accomplish in the year to come. This year has brought the release of Roving Pack which in so many feels like the ideal follow-up to my first book Kicked Out and the perfect book to release as my first solo title, there is of course too the release of Leather Ever After. This year brought touring Roving Pack through Europe-something sitting alone and broken a decade ago I never could have imagined would be something I would have accomplished.

This year has also brought with it some special full circle kinds of growth. In the last few months I have “come out” about the work that I am doing with dogs, owning again that working with them is one of my oldest passions, and that I’m ready to take it back after having it ripped from me a decade ago.  Charlotte has been a HUGE inspiration, and I’ve written before how I believe that Snickers brought her into my life for this very purpose, and now as always I’m determined to do that little guy right, to make him proud.

Since the beginning of the year I have been assisting with a local dog agility class, taught by the kind of world-class trainer my agility
obsessed teenage self could never have imagined I would ever have the opportunity to meet, let alone work with. I’m beyond thrilled that I had this kind of opportunity come into my life, and am excited to continue this path. Since adopting Charlotte a year and a half ago I’ve been upping my training game, getting really into teaching her tricks, completing Trick Dog Titles and owning to myself, friends, and chosen family that long term I’m interested in training. I’ve also in the past few months taken the first steps to bring that old dream to life. As mentioned above I’m assisting with local classes and I’m also working to complete my Trick Dog Instructor certification. I’m not sure where this path will lead me, but it feels good to be putting effort and energy in the direction and to be recapturing stolen dreams.

A few months after I lost my dogs I tattooed a paw print for each of them onto my right bicep. A few months after that on the back of my left calf I had inked into me an elite level course map surrounded by the words “I could have missed the pain, but I’d of had to miss the dance” a Garth Brooks quote that has taken 11 years to feel completely true. I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t still hard, but I also have made peace with the loss. There were years where thinking of training was simply too painful, and as much as I hate to admit it there are some wounds that for me time has been able to if not heal then solidly scar over.

February 11th is a day that I doubt will ever pass without my noticing. It’s a day where I am perhaps a bit more tender, where I am more gentle with myself, where I hold my dogs a little tighter, tell each member of my chosen family that I love them one extra time.  It is because of dogs that I learned how to build chosen families in the first place, and a more than a decade later what I know most of all is that I am not alone.  It’s been 11 years since I ran at my last trial, 11 years since I lost my boys, 11 years since I sat more alone than I had ever been in the dark on a strange couch too afraid to sleep not knowing if I could survive the night, or the day that would follow without them. 11 years since I promised myself, promised them that if we couldn’t be together that I would tell our story, that I would survive, that I would do whatever I could to do work in the world that would make it right so that others wouldn’t be separated the way we had been.  I’m my own biggest critic, but even I believe that I’ve done those dogs proud, that I’m doing right by their memories

Kicked Out will always be my first baby – it’s the book that I cut my teeth on, it will always be the first book that I pushed out into the world. Beyond that it became something so much bigger than me, truly a community project. I wake up everyday and am so grateful that I had the opportunity to help bring this book to life.

This is one of my favorite times of year – royalties time. One of the things that I remain the most proud of about Kicked Out is the way that I was able to work with the books publisher to ensure that all the contributors receive a share of the royalties. The reality is that books don’t make anyone a lot of money, but it’s never been about financial return for me, or any of the contributors. My excitement about the Kicked Out contributors being paid isn’t because I think the small checks are making a dramatic difference in their financial security, but because it’s a symbol of their ownership of this project.

The power of Kicked Out has nothing to do with the awards and honors it has received. Kicked Out is a book that readers have written me letters saying they carried with them as they ran away from abusive parents, it is a book that has helped formerly homeless youth who have hidden their past feel seen for the first time, and it has begun a now international community dialogue about the epidemic of LGBTQ youth homelessness.

This year royalty time also brings an unrelated and exciting announcement. Kicked Out is now available for purchase in Amazon Kindle edition! I am thrilled because although I’m a dinosaur and prefer my books in print form, I know that for many kindle is the most accessible (for many reasons) way to read a book. My hope is that Kicked Out being available in this new format will ensure it gets into even more hands who can learn, grow, or be healed through its pages! Please load Kicked Out on your kindle and then help spread the word about the new format, and about the anthology itself. If you’ve read Kicked Out please consider leaving a review on amazon or good reads – support from readers makes a HUGE difference to small press titles like Kicked Out and help us to get it into the hands of more readers.

I want to put a special message for the current and former homeless LGBTQ youth reading this and struggling today, it’s the same message I’ve sent out before on holidays that are all about “family”

You are not alone. Let me repeat that again. You are not alone. If you are in the states you know that today is a rough day for many of us. It’s a day when society tells us that we should feel ashamed of who we are because our family doesn’t look this iconic image of what family “should” be. Take care of yourself. If you’re struggling, I suggest staying away from television and radio (they will just be full of ads that will make you feel worse), go to a park, take yourself to a movie, take a bath, write a story, talk to a friend, or counselor, or hotline, eat cupcakes, draw pictures, workout. Essentially make time even if it’s just five or ten minutes to honor that this is a rough day and that you deserve to do something that makes you feel good about who you are. There are thousands of us for whom to varying degrees today is rough. Take care of yourself, and eachother, reclaim the holiday with chosen family if you can, and remember that you’re not alone.

I made this video a few years ago and feel the need to repost every year. All the current and former homeless queer youth I know (myself included) get pretty sick of EVERYONE – person at the grocery store, neighbors, co-workers and even other queer folks who should know better asking this question…

Are you going home for Thanksgiving?
by: kickedout

There aren’t many things that surprise me when it comes to queer youth homelessness,  but sometimes even I am left furious and perplexed.  Late yesterday Ann Coulter tweeted “last Thursday was national coming out day. This Monday is national disown your son day.”

No doubt about it, Ann Coulter is an extremist and I don’t normally take her seriously. That said, when we live in a country where 40% of homeless youth are LGBTQ identified I have a difficult time reading a quote like this and simply dismissing it as the rant of a right-wing nutjob. Every single day in this country queer youth are being thrown out of their homes and families. For anyone, let alone an adult who (for better or worse) wields a tremendous amount of cultural power to say anything to say this, to turn the epidemic of queer youth homelessness into a cruel joke is to me ethically incomprehensible.

Mostly today I’m sitting here stunned that a person could be so cruel.  I’m thinking too and most importantly about the youth I pray will never come across her cruel words.  The reality is that there are hundreds of thousands of Queer youth Who don’t know Where they will sleep tonight. The facts that are as cold and hard as a city street is that 26% of youth who come out experience parental rejection and are kicked out of their homes. I know for a fact that includes young people who heeded our community call on National Coming Out day and payed a heavy price.

Even though i know that Ann Coulter is a bully, I cant help but wonder how she could sleep last night after posting that tweet when thousands of youth don’t have the luxury of a safe and warm bed to call their own. I don’t have a solution for how to fight this kind of bigotry. I don’t know how to work with or communicate with  bullies like her. The only response I can think of is to keep talking, to hope that together as a community we make enough noise that any youth who might have heard her hateful speak also hear our messages of support and know that we won’t stand for anyone saying that queer youth homelessness  is never something to laugh about.

I can never ever forget how powerful it was for me to see out queer folks when I was a  closeted teen. They were risking safety and livelihood  to be out in that conservative county I was raised in. I fed on their bravery. Seeing them was food for my starving soul. I would count the long weekend hours until Monday morning when I would see the dyke teacher at my high school. Just seeing her swagger down the hallway in doc martins and faded jeans gave me hope enough to make it through another day.

Coming out for me, like so many others was incredibly dangerous. The price for queerness was extremely high – it cost me my home, family, and the community i’d grown up in.  And yet, queerness has given me more than I ever could have imagined in those dark closeted days.  Being out has afforded me a loving chosen family, work that I truly feel called to do, and so much more.  For me, there has been no greater freedom than being out, but I say that knowing that  I have and continue to be incredibly lucky. For far too many, coming out means falling through another set of cracks of  systems not designed to support our kids, and a community not ready to take them in.

Two years ago when Kicked Out released,  for the month of October we started an online storytelling campaign called ‘Come Out, Kicked Out’ designed to provide an opportunity for folks in the community to write, draw, take a picture, or make a video coming out about their experiences with queer teen homelessness, and for allies within our community to stand up in solidarity with current and former homeless LGBTQ youth to talk about how they have seen this epidemic impacting their community.   Every day of October a different story was shared on our website with the idea of putting more faces and stories to this epidemic and to break down the profound stigma that still exists within the LGBTQ community about owning a history of teen homelessness or biological family disownment.  You can find all of last year’s incredible stories here.  If you find yourself inspired by the incredible stories shared last year we’re always looking for guest posts. Email your stories to kickedoutanthology@gmail.com

The thought I’d like to end with on Coming Out Day is the hope that when we as queer folks shout COME OUT! COME OUT!  we must be sure that we as a community are prepared not just pay lip service to welcoming those youth into our “family”  we must truly be prepared to open our  homes, wallets, ears and hearts to ensure that the youth who pay a heavy price for heeding our call are not abandoned by the very community they have lost everything to be part of.

Tonight I stumbled up onto the “Book Recommendations” at In Other Words Feminist Bookstore – my first home bookstore, the place that gave me my first writing award  (i’ve written a bit about them before when I got to tour there a year and a half ago with Kicked Out). The posted recommendations come from local Portland book clubs, and organizations — one of which is SMYRC the local queer youth center– the organization that raised me up, back in my (and its) crustier days. When I hit the page the first thing I noticed was that SMYRC had selected Kicked Out as one of their four recommended books.  I don’t want to sound so dramatic, but I started crying.  Damn. Were it not for SMYRC I wouldn’t be here, and were it not for In Other Words I wouldn’t be an author.  There’s nothing quite like having my work recommended by the folks that saved me, raised me, taught me how to build family, make art, and organize.  SMYRC in so many ways made me who I am and to have them now recommending my book?! Damn. ::cue major happy tears::

Tonight I stumbled up onto the “Book Recommendations” at In Other Words Feminist Bookstore – my first home bookstore, the place that gave me my first writing award  (i’ve written a bit about them before when I got to tour there a year and a half ago with Kicked Out). The posted recommendations come from local Portland book clubs, and organizations — one of which is SMYRC the local queer youth center– the organization that raised me up, back in my (and its) crustier days. When I hit the page the first thing I noticed was that SMYRC had selected Kicked Out as one of their four recommended books.  I don’t want to sound so dramatic, but I started crying.  Damn. Were it not for SMYRC I wouldn’t be here, and were it not for In Other Words I wouldn’t be an author.  There’s nothing quite like having my work recommended by the folks that saved me, raised me, taught me how to build family, make art, and organize.  SMYRC in so many ways made me who I am and to have them now recommending my book?! Damn. ::cue major happy tears::

Touched By An Angel “Children of the Night”

Ok, confession – I was remarkably uncool as a kid. I also as I’ve talked about before grew up in an incredibly controlling environment.  Pretty much everything I did, watched, and read was monitored. I remember sneaking a copy of “A Child Called It” probably my freshman year in High School and for the first time realized that I was being abused –but that’s a whole different story about the power books have always played in my ability to see and understand myself and the world around me. But this post isn’t about that – it’s about confessing to the kinda embarrassing television I watched.  There was a period of time in the early mid 90’s where I was obsessed with ‘Touched By An Angel’ and I watched it every Sunday night.  I don’t remember much about the show at this point other than one episode that I don’t think I’ll ever forget.  It was about street kids and was the very first time I’d ever seen homeless youth in the media, it was the first time I’d ever heard anyone even talk about homeless youth.

I remember when it aired I taped it on my family’s VCR and would watch the show over and over again. It sounds silly now, but by the time that show aired I’d already been fantasizing for years about running away and building a home and family with other kids – I’m not sure where the idea came from but it was the fantasy I rocked myself to sleep with every night. Seeing this episode was a really pivotal moment where for only an instant I believed that maybe it could happen, that I could get away, that maybe I’d find other kids, that maybe someday I’d be ok.   This afternoon out of nowhere I got to thinking about the show and sure enough thanks to the magic of the internet was able to rewatch it for the first time in 15 years and a half dozen lifetimes.

I was in tears within the first three minutes where one of the angels Tess says that these “runaway, throwaway” kids are actually a family schooling Monica one of the other angels who had just made a comment about how she thought their “assignment” was to work with a family and she didn’t see one. This is are talking mainstream 90’s Christian television we’re talking about so I went into watching it tonight prepared to shatter the memory of what the show had meant to me. These kinds of media artifacts don’t tend to age well, and my expectations were pretty low.  The episode was not without flaws – there was the anticipated awkward/cheesy/uncomfortable God moments which if I’m being honest were a struggle for me because of my numerous unresolved God issues as much as anything else.  My biggest critique is that China the young sex worker was killed by a client—this of course is an all too common reality, but it doesn’t mean I want to see one more media representation of a sex worker being murdered.

The premise of the show is about a street family of kids who each have their own path and struggle and the angels are there to gain their trust – again not without flaws.  But they do interesting things that I rarely see in mainstream media portrayals of homelessness, not one of the kids is vilified, when Monica makes fun of the hair/piercings etc. of the kids she’s chastised and told that doesn’t matter, and they spend time talking about the ways in which the kids name themselves, and the depth and meaning behind the chosen names which on the surface seem strange and random but actually carry great meaning. For example, China the youth mentioned above as she begins to build a friendship with Monica explains that she picked her name because of the fancy china dishes people use on special occasions, that someday she will have some of her own and that she plans to use it everyday. She goes onto say that when people say her name it makes her feel special.  Sure in the midst of cheesy 90’s television the story is a bit trite- and yet on some level for me it worked because of how many people I know/have known whose chosen names carry similar stories.

In the end two kids die, Ally the youngest and newest to the street goes home to her parents and the “family that was shattered when she left.” But the episode was not the unexamined reunification propaganda that I was anticipating. The one very young girl does go home, and that is a bit of an overpowering theme BUT it’s not the only story-taking place.  Doc the street father avoids death by leaving the streets/squats entering the hospital to treat TB – but only once he’s insured his surviving street family has been taken care of.  Although the initial doctor he sees seems to be making reference to some kind of forced family reunification, but the angels make clear that when he’s healthy he will be going to the youth shelter.

Perhaps the most powerful moment of the episode for me came within the first three minutes in an exchange between Monica and Tess:

Monica- “so our assignment is to get them back home?”

Tess –  “ Oh no, that’s how the world has failed them so far, they just want to get rid of them and send them back where they came from. We’ve got to do better than that. We’ve got to give them what they need, not what we think they need.”

That’s when the tears started. The episode was not without substantial flaws and yet imbedded in it was more harm reduction and trauma informed approach language than I hear 15 years later from many homeless youth direct service providers!!!

I love that * this* this was a message I heard even for an instant all those years ago. I love that I heard someone say – the family those kids built is real, that I heard someone say the answer is not to get them “back home,” and that what actually is needed is exactly what they say they/we say is needed not someone else’s version of what their/our lives could be. Of course I remembered nothing about having seen that episode when I was kicked out, all I knew in that moment and those moments that immediately followed was how alone I felt- but then something happened—I found community, I found packs of kids like me and we built families so much stronger than anything I’d ever been told was “family” in my childhood.

Consistently repeated through the episode was the message that these kids had been burned, that they didn’t trust because they had not reason to, that they were used to being given up on and it was legitimate for them to expect similar treatment in the future. I really appreciated that message.  Like most of us with this past trust still, all these years later is difficult for me. I can name on less than one hand the number of people I *actually * trust and you can be damn sure they are all folks who I’ve built family with. I’m a little embarrassed writing a whole blog post about an episode of Touched By An Angel, after all the show itself is not without immense complication and I know I’ve not even scratched the surface of that, and yet I can’t deny how incredibly touched (pun intentional) by this first/only representation of homeless teens I was as a pre-teen who dreamed of successfully running away and escaping.

As complicated as it is media is a profoundly powerful force in our lives.  The initial idea for Kicked Out came at 17 when newly homeless I went to the public library and realized there were no books I could find about queer homeless youth – I felt unbearably alone in that moment and promised myself that if I survived I would make a book so no one else would feel like I did in that moment.  I didn’t yet understand that queer youth homelessness was an epidemic, I had no idea how unreasonable it was to think that I would be able to create something that would touch *every * other current/former homeless queer kid. In the last couple of years since our release I’ve gotten messages from former homeless youth who’ve expressed that in the pages of Kicked Out for the very first time they felt like they saw their experience reflected back at them. I’ve received messages from currently homeless youth who told me they ranway/were kicked out with only their backpack and stuffed inside under clothes and toiletries was their copy of the Kicked Out anthology, that carrying it with them made them feel less alone.