volume one hundred and two

doing it our way

📍Written overlooking Oak Bay, Vancouver Island, with a dog named Kenobi at my feet.

Over the weekend I had the honour of volunteering with QMUNITY — BC's Queer, Trans & Two-Spirit centre for resources, programs and services for 2SLGBTQIA+ folks — as I often do at their summer events while on this side of the world. It just so happened that I was in Victoria, on Vancouver Island, the same week as Victoria’s Pride Parade. I got to march proudly in the parade, sporting a hot-pink t-shirt rolled at the sleeves and tucked into a crop within moments of it being handed to me, making it my own as I do in so many aspects of life these days, going with the gut instinct before thinking of what others might do. Am I the first person to roll the sleeves of a t-shirt and tie it into a crop? Of course not. But I didn’t stop to look at what others had done with theirs before doing what I wanted with mine and that is what makes moves like that so special. Baby steps of truthfulness.

Baby steps validated with a “Wow, you made that your own!” from the person who handed it to me.

Yes, I made the t-shirt my ‘own’, but I proudly sported it alongside many other fabulous hot-pink-clad folks, all of us there to express something much bigger, grander, and more important than the t-shirt itself, but what it represents. We held signs made by crafty queers over slices of pizza and community conversation, never thinking about sore arms because the adrenalin kept them up, even as we used them as props for our dance moves. We swished an assortment of flags above our heads and shouted “Happy Pride!” as we waved back to passionate people of all stories on the sidelines.

I looked on at children in tears with excitement, as their hands scrunched and cupped their chins holding onto the feelings they were experiencing for dear life “I never want this joy to end” their tiny fists said. There were elders with one hand intertwined with their partners and the other holding a whistle to their lips. People roared and their voices came together in chorus as if to say “We have always been here, and we will always be here”. As always, there were dogs in rainbow tutus and ties and neckerchiefs. I saw parents, siblings, partners and co-workers out as allies holding signs and wearing shirts and screaming things that all-in-all said “I love you!”. Every single one of these people with a smile on their face that would remain for hours, never tiring of group after banner after float after sign passing them.

Once we arrived at the festival site, there was a booth set up ready to educate folks on what QMUNITY do, what they offer, and the support they provide. It was there I met someone who had embroidered in mustard yellow, “they/them” complete with a flower into their peanut brown cotton jumpsuit. 

“It is the pronoun version of Laverne’s L from Laverne and Shirley,” I told them. They told me “I don’t know what that is, I just did it last night in a few minutes,” and they told me how they planned to add to the flowers over the summer. Beautifully brilliant.

Later that day, as I walked home — filled with joy and energy that would not leave me until the following day when the reality of the sunburn on the backs of my legs hit — I thought about Laverne, and I thought about Penny Marshall who played her. Who as far as we know was not gay despite rumours I would delight in being true, and who was still and will always be a lesbian icon and ally.

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When I was very young, my Mum purchased me a gold brooch in the shape of a cursive L, just like Laverne’s. A portable version of the embroidered kind, instead of sewing my initial into every one of my clothing items, this gold piece could be attached to every dress, jumper, dressing gown, vest or t-shirt that I desired.

I didn’t understand the significance of the L, Laverne, or Penny, and I wouldn’t for a very long time. But the brooch stayed with me, worn on occasion, less and less as I grew up.

When I was twenty-one years old, I had just moved into my very own apartment. The first of my own. Blue carpet throughout that was short, thin, uncomfortable, scratchy and covered even the kitchen floors which meant liquid spills were a nightmare. I was on the top floor of an a-frame house, with a spare bedroom — the height of grown up — and a balcony that really should have been an out-of-bounds area for intoxicated folks and small children, but had a view that went on forever of tree tops, and often thunderstorms and rainbows. Think “Worst House on The Best Street” and that was where I called home.

On your mark, get set, and go now

Got a dream and we just know now

We're gonna make our dreams come true

And we'll do it our way

One day the brooch popped into my head, without warning. Where was it? I hadn’t seen it for some time. In fact, when was the last time I saw it? As far as I knew I no longer had anything at my Mum’s house — all of my things were with me — exactly where I wanted them, close by.

I rummaged through overstuffed jewellery cases, through assortments of costume jewellery and emptied memento shoeboxes crowded with letters, tickets and photos. There was no brooch.

I panicked, and I tore things apart trying to find it. Under things, on things, beside things, inside things.

Nothing.

So I did what any normal twenty-one-year-old would do. I didn’t tell my Mum it was lost, I didn’t tell anyone, and I walked right on into the local tattoo parlour down the hill and took their next available appointment. I was going to make sure it was never lost again.

Thankfully I had the wiseness not to get it where Laverne would wear it (on my chest) and instead opted for a nice not-so-subtle spot on the back of my left arm. The perfect size, identical cursive, as if the brooch was there, just in black scratchy ink that I don’t look too closely at so I do not remember saying “Of course!” when they asked if I was okay with the apprentice taking this job on.

There is nothing we won't try

Never heard the word impossible

This time there's no stopping us

The L is there, forever, proudly. People ask if I am a Libra (I am an Aquarius). People ask whose name it stands for (assuming it is someone I love, and I get to reply “I am the love of my own life”). It truly was the most immature tattoo I impulsively got, of which there are a lot, and yet I love it with all my heart.

This L says best friends are necessary, it says childhood, it says girl power and feminism, it says gay icon, it says first home of my own, it says spilling muffin mix onto blue carpet, it says naps in the hammock after work as a thunderstorm rolled by, it says “I love me”, it says “Sorry Mum”, and it says spontaneity.

Give us any chance we'll take it

Read us any rule we'll break it

On my next move, the brooch showed itself again. It was never lost, just misplaced. Hilarious, you might think. I thought so. It now sits in a jewellery tray, in plain sight, always where I know it is, always the one reminder of the things it represents — until the next person asks about my tattoo, an occasion such as when I roll my sleeves up on a t-shirt for a pride festival.

Nothings gonna turn us back now

Straight ahead and on the track now

We're gonna make our dreams come true

Doing it our way

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here are three things I struggled with this week:

🍦 The lack of ice cream options in this neighbourhood is a real tragedy.

🪟 Honestly, the view is distracting and I don’t know if that is a bad thing given I am taking a screen break approximately every twenty seconds.

💭 I am not sleeping well in this house. I am waking up a lot, every night. But I think it is excitement because everything else is bliss.

here are three blessings from this week:

🏔️ On Sunday, the day was a lot clearer than I had assumed the previous ones had been. Out the window, across the sailboats and on the horizon of the ocean view, I saw Mt Baker, covered in snow while I soaked up the sun like a lizard. When I was a child I assumed all mountains in the distance were another country. This time it was real.

🐕 Kenobi is a cuddler. Need I say more?

🐚 Daily beach walks with dog company, alone with my thoughts, no phone, and the sun.

here are three goals for the coming week:

🔓 Less, less, less.

🕮 Solo dinner date with my book (thanks to the inspiration from Sophie in this post)

🗓️ Getting intentional as crunch time approaches for the next big adventure!

here is something I enjoyed this week: 

Baby’s first pride campaign! I am very proud of my roommate who pulled this all off!

pics or it didn’t happen:

facts

I love you. Now I am off to prepare for something big. It is something Pride related and it is happening very soon. More details to come, but I am squealing and cannot wait to share it with you.

LD

xoxo

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