Author: Bekki

When They Call My Name, I’ll Be Standing on the Side of Love

On By BekkiIn Pinned PostsLeave a comment

I’ve been in two relationships in my life that I thought might end in happily ever after. The second was with the man I married. The first was with a girl I met while I was in college.

Love is love is love. The people I had crushes on in high school were the ones who sparkled beneath their 90’s-issue grunge and goth. The ones with mad dreams, with snowflakes on their eyelashes, with a better-than-suburbia attitude. Sure, I dated a guy, but I would have dated my girl-crush if she’d been interested.

I’ve never hidden what I am or who I love. If you ask me if I’m straight I’ll say no. If you ask me what my orientation is, I’ll say queer. For the most part, though, people don’t ask. They assume, because I’m married to a dude and have a kid, that I’m straight. I let them.

It’s easy to be straight. It’s safe. I don’t have to wonder if my parents, whose gay friends are some of my favorite people, would nonetheless be upset that their kid identifies as queer. I don’t have to tell my extended family, some of whom, last time I checked, firmly believe marriage should be between a man and a woman, that I’m getting hitched to another girl. I can walk down the street holding the hand of the person I love without fearing cat calls or harassment.

My hope is that by the time my daughter is old enough to read this, she won’t understand why it was a big deal. That I’m able to talk with her openly, honestly, and without embarrassment about love and sex and sensuality and sexuality. That I can teach her it is truly okay to love whomever she loves fiercely, brightly, and with beauty.

I leave you with this.

Miscellany

On By BekkiIn The Weekly ReviewLeave a comment

1. We made it to California. Despite all the things that went sideways with the move, it was actually a fairly easy one.

After five years in exile, it feels really good to be home. The landscape is right in a way that New England and Florida never were. Something about the juxtaposition of ocean and mountains makes my blood sing. I’m still not sold on Vallejo, but I’m willing to give it some time.

2. The California bar exam is in a month. My rational mind knows that I will in all likelihood pass. The rest of me is terrified that I won’t, especially given that a) I had 3 months to do nothing but study for New York and this time I’ve got 7 weeks of maybe 3 hours a day and b) I have no guarantee of a job past October and CA employers pretty much all require that you be admitted here.

I’m also quietly furious, because the simple truth – and it’s something the bar examiners know – is that the bar exam has zero relationship to what a practicing layer does on a day to day basis. It’s mostly an expensive hazing ritual designed to keep minorities and poor people from becoming lawyers. And the bar examiners seem to like it that way.

3. I’ve been thinking about opening up the archives – posts from 2005-2007 and 2007-2010. If I did that I would put at least some of them under password protection. There are things twenty-something year old me said, before starting law school, that I’d rather not have on the open web. Would people be interested in that?

4. I’m doing yoga teacher training starting in September. This will either be one of the best things I’ve ever done, or one of the worst. Or possibly both. Stay tuned.

Resolute

On By BekkiIn Musings & Ramblings2 Comments

I wasn’t going to do resolutions this year. It’s always seemed silly to me that the only day of the year you can reinvent yourself is January 1.  And anyway, my resolutions always seem to be the nebulous type. Things that are easier to say  than to put into practice.  Be patient.  Be kind.

Sometimes, though, the universe has a way of nudging you to where you need to be.

The first thing that happened was my friend Christine posted this gorgeous picture of her hand-lettered resolution for the year.  I wanted one.

Then another friend started a blog to chronicle her journey to health and wellness over the next year.  And I thought (and still think) that takes guts, to put yourself and your goals out there for anyone to see.

These are both ladies I truly admire, people who’ve worked hard to get to where they are, who have gone on pretty incredible transformations of the self.  But I still hesitated about making any kind of resolution.  Because, you know, I’m not that kind of girl.

So the universe gave me a swift kick in the seat of my pants, in the form of my husband saying one night, as we were washing up after dinner, you really should try to make time to write.  Because when you write, you’re more patient and nicer and less crazy.

He’s right.  It made me realize that maybe the trick to being a better person is to just be the kind of person I’m happy to be.  And while that seems like an incredibly obvious sort of truth (Tao of Pooh 101), I’ve spent the last five years working in an industry where we hide away our best selves to better fit the corporate mold.

I’m tired of being the person I’m supposed to be.  It doesn’t make me very happy, and it doesn’t make my husband very happy either.  It’s time I tried being the person I want to be.

Resolution the First

Apply Ass to Chair

I’m a writer.  If you’ve read this blog for any length of time you know this, as you know that I struggle with finding time to write.  I’d managed to get myself into a good place for a while back in 2012, finishing Persephone, drafting the zero draft of Railroad, and getting some Agent interest.  After I got pregnant, though, I was tired all the time, bone tired, I-go-to-bed-at-eight-and-can’t-drag-myself-out-of-bed-until-nine tired.  And with the baby… well.  There’s always something to do, laundry to fold, dishes to wash, a toddly to keep out of trouble.

But if I don’t write, I am not happy.  If I don’t write, I am not the person I want to be.  Enough said.

(The phrase “apply ass to chair” comes from advice given at the 2012 Clarion workshop.)

Resolution the Second

Get Moving

Writers are generally not known for their physical fitness.  We’re much more likely to be in a chair all day, hunched over our laptop or our notebook, frantically scribbling.

I’ve been lucky.  My body has, for the most part, been good to me.  It held a child and then returned (mostly) to the same shape it used to be with minimal complaints.  But it bothers me that I’m not as fit or as active as I used to be, and I don’t want to turn into one of those people who are old and creaky at 40.

And the person I want to be?  The one who makes me happy?  She likes to ride her bike and go hiking, and wants to share those things with her daughter.

Wanting and doing, though, can be very separate things.  Going to the gym isn’t an option for me, not if I wasn’t to have time to write and see my kid.  So I’m viewing this as a way to help me make choices.  Do I take the stairs or the elevator?  Do I make myself go to weekend yoga instead of sleeping in?  Do I actually use the pull-up bar at home?  When someone invites me to a work-out class, do I make excuses or do I say yes?

Conflicting Resolutions

I’m not thinking about these resolutions as keep or fail.  If I don’t write one day, if I laze out and don’t take the stairs, it’s ok.  Because every day, I get the chance to decide who I want to be.  Every morning, I can wake up and try again.

New Year’s Wish

On By BekkiIn Musings & Ramblings2 Comments
St. Pete Beach, June 2005
St. Pete Beach, June 2005

Ten years ago, I moved across the country to California. I had a newly minted degree in creative writing, less than $1000 in my bank account, and no reason to stay in Florida. Even so, I left a lot of things behind: an ocean that lit up at night along the edges of the waves; the restaurant where I learned how to wait tables and accept compliments; the woman who gave me my wings. I didn’t mind. I felt that I was moving toward something.

Between San Francisco and Monterey, May 2010
Between San Francisco and Monterey, May 2010

Five years ago, I moved across the country to New York. I had a newly minted JD, an offer at a big law firm, and a large pile of student loans. New York wasn’t my first choice, but it was a new job in a new city, and I’ve always been excited by new things. I left a lot behind: the farmer’s market with fresh, off -the-tree-that-morning peaches; the moody, untameable Pacific Ocean; family, and friends that were like family.  I minded this time.

This spring, we are moving again, back to California, back home.  I don’t have a job yet.  I should be terrified that I don’t have everything lined up, but I’m not.  I’m exhilarated.  For the past ten years, I’ve done what was expected of me.  College, law school, East Coast job, husband, house, child.  Check.  It hasn’t made me happy.

I’ve written here before about the impossibility of “having it all” and the need to decide instead to have it right.  For me, that means more time with my husband and my daughter.  It means letting go of what’s “expected” and doing what works.  It means time to write.  It means living somewhere that makes us happy, somewhere we have a support network of friends and family who love us.  It means going home.

And because it wouldn’t be New Year’s without a wish, here is my wish for you in the coming year:

Find the time for the people and the things that make you happy, and if you can’t find it, make it.  Do things for yourself, because you want to.  Ignore the people who tell you you’re doing it wrong.  Hug someone.  Smile at a baby.  And, as always, love and be kind to each other.

One of Us

On By BekkiIn This is FeminismLeave a comment

This is what misogyny looks like.

I’m watching the news this morning, and they mention that the winner of the Miss America pageant was a victim of domestic violence. The first thing that goes through my head is She can’t be a victim of domestic violence. She must be making it up.

The second thing that goes through my head is what is wrong with me for thinking that?

***

It’s insidious. Pernicious. The statistics say something like 1 in 3 women will be sexually assaulted. Why is it so hard for us to believe this is true?

***

I watched a man teaching his son to read on the subway one morning on my way to work. The kid, probably five or six, sat on his dad’s lap sounding out the words in an article.

On my way out of the train, I looked down, and saw a mostly naked woman on the page. The boy was learning to read on Penthouse.

***

I have thought numerous times during pregnancy and childbirth and breastfeeding that if men had to deal with this shit, we’d have a pill for it already.

***

My mother taught me when I was younger that you always lock car when you park, to make sure nobody gets into the backseat while you’re out. To park under a streetlight. To avoid dark areas.

Nobody teaches men these things.

***

This is what misogyny looks like.