#fortynine

[sensitiveange]

G G G G GIRLFRIENDS???

I redrew 45 and 49 in how I would interpret them and now I’m addicted

I NEED MORE CHARACTERS AND IDEAS PLEASE AND THANK YOU

[hcmbound]

FORTY-NINE | LAVIER

Xavi had been new to the show, new to Chicago. He had found himself a decent loft to live in, just a man and his oversized dog. There was a big crossover to introduce a new show into the mix, Chicago Med. Xavi had been eyeing up the cast the whole time. They were throwing a little party to introduce everyone and he found himself walking over to one of the nurses, a class in his hand for her. “I saw you didn’t have a drink in your hand so here you go.”

[espritmetropol]

Neunundvierzig

[howlingheartdemigod]

49

This was written in early July of 2016 and revised recently. It discusses the shooting at Pule nightclub in Orlando Florida and labels. Feel free to share this if you feel connected to it in some way.

In early July of 2016 I had a conversation with a family friend about, among other things, why labels matter.

This is a nice woman. She’s in her 50s, she owns a small business, she has two dogs, that I’ve taken care of when she’s on vacation, she’s very liberal. She’s a textbook suburban-ally. She supports you all she can, and will ask all the questions she can muster, but she won’t always accept the answers, even when they’re coming from a queer person. I’m out, as far as sexuality goes. She knew my words came from a place of experience, not just observation.

The conversation came up when I used the phrase “LGBTQIA community” instead of just saying LGBT or gay community. I saw her face scrunch up, her lip curled in confusion.

There’s a strange entitlement that only seems to exist for white allies. The idea that they are so good just because they treat LGBTQIA+ people like people, that when you use words they don’t know, they become uncomfortable. Especially so in older generations, who think because they’ve lived longer they don’t have to be educated, so long as they are kind. They're better than their parents were, and better than most of their friends still are, so why try for more?

So she asked, what did I say and what does it mean. She knew the first four so start from there.

“Well, LGBTQIA, and Q stands for,” I hesitated. I knew what I was about to say was loaded, but how could I claim to be a good community member if I didn’t claim my own identity. “-queer and questioning.” I finished.

“Hm.” She started, and I knew the script of this conversation better than she. I could have told her her next lines word for word.

“Questioning,” I blurted, stepping on her entrance, “Is for people questioning their sexuality or gender. Queer is an identifier that, my generation especially, is taking back.”

The conversation stalled. She tilted her head back in a way I knew. Something I’d seen in people every time I explain that queer, to us, is not a slur. It’s a war-cry, it’s a prayer. It’s saying “This is something about me that I am not ashamed about. Not anymore. Never again.”

Regardless, I smiled politely and nodded as she explained that was odd to her, that she didn’t like that.

I explained that it was a blanket term. An easier way for someone to say, “I’m a demisexual, panromantic, trans-woman.”

Which, in hindsight, was probably a bad idea. I should have just said, “It’s an easy way for someone who is gay and someone who is bi to have a connection.” Or some other semi-truth that we use.

“See, I don’t get that.” She said “I don’t even know those words, what did you say, Demi…”

I filled her in on the basics as politely as I could, even letting her know my own specific identifiers.

“See, why can’t you just say you’re... “ She trailed off, like she knew she was going to say something wrong, and taking a moment to regroup. “I’d rather just know you as a person. I’d rather know you as Logan. I’d get it much more if you were just like “Oh, I like this gender,” or “Oh I feel like I’m a man.” Instead of…” She waved her hand for the words that weren’t there. A feeling I understood all too well in the moment.

“It has to do with community, it has to do with identity.” I said, trying to make it easier to swallow. “When I say I’m bi or pansexual it’s like saying ‘I’ve found this thing that makes me more me. That explains how I feel and that means other people feel it too because there’s a word for it.”

She still didn’t understand, She thought it made things too complicated.

Too complicated. Those are the words that ring in my ears every time I hear them. Along with the question I never ask; How is it too complicated?

I can define genderfluid and demisexual and MtF and FtM and MtM and FtF and any number of other words. I can recognize that since I don’t identify with them, I don’t get final say. I learned words I don’t identify with. They were new to me, but I did it anyway. It wasn’t too complicated for me. How is it too complicated for you?

It’s entitlement, it’s laziness, and it’s privilege. The privilege of being straight, white, and married in a world where that is valued. It’s not too complicated. I promise It’s not. You just have to listen to the answers of the questions you ask. Instead of asking, hearing a word you don’t know or a phrase you’re uncomfortable with and then writing the answer off as “too complicated.”

She moved on then, to a story about a boy she knew who was her daughter’s age. He was clearly gay, but closeted until high school, at which point he came out and became the sort of ‘fabulous’ gay guy we all know or know of. She said it like it was a bad thing, his flamboyance. I saw that there’s a kind of power in that, a pride in that. It made sense to me that a kid from a small conservative town would identify in a loud and proud way. The story moved on, to him meeting a guy and getting married, and moving to Florida. His husband was a Drag performer and that pulled them into the nightclub scene which pulled them into the drug scene. This wasn’t good for the kid she knew. He ended up in the hospital, and she wasn’t clear on all of the details, but it had something to do with whatever he’d been into. He moved back home shortly after, freshly divorced.

On June 12 2016, he woke up to one hundred and twenty six texts and fifty missed calls. One of the clubs he’d worked at in Florida was Pulse. He’d known some of the victims.

As she was telling this story I found myself sick and sad. Like most people in the community, Orlando was hard for me. I am a queer person, born and raised in the bible belt. I live, not a few states, or a few hours, but 45 minutes away from Westboro baptist Church. World renowned for their bigotry, hatred, and bastardization of Christianity. I live so close, that they frequently protest schools and programs in my immediate area. (I live so close, I have pictures flipping them off when we drove by for a class.) I live every day knowing there are people very close to home who want me dead just for existing.

After Orlando, like so many others, I was hurting. I wrote letters and journal entries, trying to fathom why this happened, but I had the luxury of separation. I had 18hrs and 9 min. I had 1,262 miles. I had space to process and think. I was devastated. People who lived mirror lives to mine had been killed, but with this new revelation, the separation I had was gone. There was a man in my community who had known and been friends with someone who died in the massacre.

In the aftermath of this, I was blown away at how she still didn’t get it. How she didn’t get how these words were important. How they were all there at that club because of the part of themselves she deemed too complicated. How these people were celebrating the way these words were a part of who they were.

How they were killed because of it.

Forty-nine people, who lived parallel lives to me.

Forty-nine queer people.

The youngest of whom was my age. She was 18. She’d graduated from high school a week before the shooting. She had a full basketball scholarship for college. She was, by all accounts, a quiet force. A leader. A young woman who lived a life that mirrored mine, who died because of it.

Forty-nine people.

It’s been a lifetime and some change and the words are still ringing in my ears. Too complicated.

What I don’t think she considered is how the words could hit someone. How the words hit me. I didn’t hear, “These words are new and confusing.” I heard, “What you are is weird and confusing.” I heard that my existence is too complicated. That my desire for understanding is too much for her to surmount.

In every good intention there is a layer of misinformed, ill-taught behavior.

I’m not saying that this woman I know, that we call know, isn’t a good person. I’m not even saying that she’s a bad ally.

I’m saying that 49 people died. I’m saying there’s a set behavior of “I support you but I don’t want to talk about it.” “I support you, but keep it as simple as possible so I don’t have to struggle with something that you deal with.” I’m saying we will never be able to change the narrative if we don’t listen to each other. We won’t be able to change things if you don’t listen to the people who are answering the questions you ask.

 We need to tamp out the idea of “too complicated.” There is no such thing.  When people are dying, “too complicated” will never be a good enough reason.

[yadayahowah]

Paul’s Opening Salvo ~ Every Lie in One Line ~ Appalling Twistianity Forty~Nine

This episode exposes Paul’s opening line in Galatians 1 as the foundation of Christianity’s greatest fraud. By comparing Paul’s claims with

This episode exposes Paul’s opening line in Galatians 1 as the foundation of Christianity’s greatest fraud. By comparing Paul’s claims with Yahowah’s Towrah, the prophets, and the Mizmowr, it becomes undeniable that Shaul contradicted Yahowah, replaced Dowd, invented a counterfeit god, and fabricated a false path. This study restores Yahowah’s truth, His Beryth, His Mow’ed Miqra’ey, and the enduring role of Dowd as Mashyach and Ben ‘Elohym.

https://yadayah.com/ https://x.com/YadaCraig 🎙️ New to streaming or looking to level up? Check out StreamYard and get $10 discount! 😍 https://streamyard.com/pal/d/6451052384485376 https://linktr.ee/yadayah Music, lyrics, and video provided by Craig Winn, and used with permission from the YAHOWAH MUSIC GROUP through CC 4.0.

PaulExposed, GalatiansOne, AppallingTwistianity, FortyNine, CraigWinn, YadaYahowah, TowrahTruth, Towrah, Miqraey, Mowed, Mizmowr89, Mashyach, Yahowah, Yisrael, ExposingReligion, SpiritualDiscernment, Truth, Yada, YahFamily, YahScriptures, YadaYahSeries, YadaYahStudy, EndTimesProphecy, YahowahIsGod, DowdIsMashyach, AntiPaul, ReplacementTheology, Beryth, Shabuwah, Kippurym, Sukah, Miqra, RuachQodesh, MercySeat, ArkOfTheCovenant, Yeruwshalem, Year6000Yah

#Liberty #TowrahFreedom #YadaYahowah #CraigWinn #Yahowah #TowrahTruth #DabarimTwelveFourteen #Covenant #ExposingReligion #YahFamily

[nynie96]

#fortynine #happybirthdaytome ❤🎂4️⃣9️⃣ https://www.instagram.com/p/CNxaIOyB1i7hLb3pFAtfHvlmvtgWfEUMtLmTYM0/?igshid=ypkyyofov71b

[cheezie1203]

Taking a break and passed the mirror and said.... hold up let me get pic of this. Working out 🏋🏽‍♀️ got me looking like a snack! 😂😂😂#hardworkpaysoffs #donthate #fortynine #lookingfly #eatingright #happyfeet #runningmotivation #hittworkout #motivation #weightlossjourney #gottakeeppushing https://www.instagram.com/p/CBjX1SepdtL/?igshid=1d824xee60f9i

[brandonimhotep]

49?! Where? Happy 49th birthday to #KenyaMoore! #FortyFine #FortyNine https://www.instagram.com/p/B7uv8uYg2f6/?igshid=i8mmhzn3acg7