SeaHeart

Jenn and I dialogued at Muse Rising: Why Lesbian YA Stories Are Important: A Dialogue on Project Unicorn by Its Authors. <3 Project Unicorn unches tomorrow!

Today we woke up early, finished up all of our chores, made SIGNS OUT OF RAINBOWS, and then we were READY. For today was the ending of the week-long celebration in Rochester, NY: Pride 2012, ending in the culmination of the Pride parade and festival. And we were marching in the parade!

You have a fair understanding of how much we love and are obsessed with our church, Pullman Memorial Universalist. As married lesbians in an extremely rural community, being able to have a place that we can go, once a week, and be completely ourselves without any fear of repercussion or violence--and not only no FEAR, but the joy of knowing that you're loved by a family that embraces you in every aspect, cares about you so deeply, and is so intensely supportive of you? Yeah, it's one of the most amazing, cherished things in our world. So, when we found out that our church was marching with the contingency of Unitarian Universalist churches from Rochester and the surrounding areas, we were so excited to take part. <3 EXCITED MIGHT BE AN UNDERSTATEMENT, ACTUALLY.

Jenn and I wanted to dress as Pride Fairies, so I got my tutu out, our wedding wings, AND AS MANY RAINBOWS AS ONE PERSON CAN FEASIBLY WEAR. AND THEN ONE MORE, JUST TO MAKE IT GAYER. And GLITTER! THERE WAS A LOT OF GLITTER.

LOOK AT US. WE ARE SO HOT. BELIEVE IT OR NOT, WE WOULD BECOME HOTTER. PROBABLY WE WOULD NOT BECOME GAYER. WE ARE ALREADY PRETTY GAY.


( MORE RAINBOWS and the CONTINUATION of the Story of PRIDE... )

And lo, afterward, we gotteth Pistachio Rose vegan cupcakes as our PRIDE! TREAT! from our favorite vegan deli, and fainted, verily, upon ingestion of them BECAUSE THEY WERE SO DAMN GOOD, thus bringing a SATISFYING and SPARKLY ENDING to our SATISFYING and SPARKLY day. <3

The End. <3

(Trigger warning–the following post contains triggering elements for anyone who has survived violent attacks. Please don’t read if this will be triggering to you, thank you.)

Saints, Martyrs and Mortals: On the Lesbian Teen Shooting is on Muse Rising.

Please consider donating to the fund set up for Mary Kristene Chapa's medical bills.

Home from Pride! <3 Exhausted, but so, so happy—we had such an amazing time—I shall post the sparkly bits later!

But I had to show you guys this now! I got the bestest shirt in the entire UNIVERSE there. FIRSTLY, it is the cutest, cleverest pun EVER. Lez-bo(w)! <3 I am madly in love with it. <3

SECONDLY, it looks like SAILOR MOON TIMES. :D *hearts and rainbow sparkles forever!*

My novella Crumbs, the first novella of our Sappho's Fables (Lesbian Fairy Tales!) series, is released today! Crumbs is a lesbian version of Hansel and Gretel~ <3



Greta's never ventured beyond the refuge of the Heap. Outside, the Ragers lurk, ever hungry and hunting. But Greta and her brother, half-starved and now alone, must risk death for the dream of safety they hope to find within the metal forest. Once there, nothing is as it seems: in the confines of a crumbling old candy factory, the woman who rescues them with sweet words and sweeter treats harbors a dangerous secret.

Available for purchase from:
Amazon (Kindle)
Barnes and Noble (Nook)
Smashwords (All other eReaders/Online Reading)

(Originally posted at The Sorcery of Love~)

- The fabulous Naomi Clark (naomi_jay) has a SUPER SEXY BOOK released today. It's called Shadow Cursed (JUST LOOK AT THAT COVER, LOOK AT IT. IT IS ALL SMOLDERY!), and--since she's an amazing writer and lady <3--if you are into gothic romances that are majorly smexy, YOU SHOULD REALLY GIVE IT A TRY.

- The Kickstarter to make The Dark Wife into an audiobook production is going amazingly well! I'm so happy and humbled and just blown away by all of the support and enthusiasm--you guys rock. <3

- The lovely Chris (sihaya09) at Sihaya Designs has just had a BEAUTIFUL update of magical, enchanted things. Clicky to have your breath taken away! <3

- I have a guest post at KT Grant's blog about The Dark Wife, writing gay YA, and how much people want to read lesbian YA books. She was fabulous for having me! :)

- Jenn and I have been trying to find time to put up some of my not-so-often-used perfumes on eBay for months--she finally got a chance to a few days ago. I know that some of you love perfume oil, so I thought I'd bring the link to those of you who might be interested in such things. :) (We've been doing some eBay sales, lately, but not really selling anything I thought you guys might like. When I put up some of my Pagan stuff, I'll let you know about that, too!) Our eBay sales include Haunt perfumes, some rare(r) BPAL (Weenies and such!), Arcana and etc. I'm sad to see some of my Haunt go, but--really--I have eleventy billion perfumes, and the moolah is better put to credit cards than sitting on my shelf.

- So, even though the New Jersey Assembly passed a bill legalizing same-sex marriage, the governor has promised a veto. Which, you know, majorly fucking sucks, but I was listening to NPR last night, all depressed about it, and they gave me a lot of hope that it might be put on the general ballot, and--if that happens--the polls say it would probably pass. So then NEW JERSEY can be JUST AS AWESOME AS NEW YORK. Don't even get me started on how effing excited I am about Washington or Colorado!!!! Any good energy sent to Colorado, by the way, would be greatly appreciated. COME ON, COLORADO. BE AWESOME. YOU CAN DO IT!

- For Valentine's Day, my GIGANTIC SURPRISE OF LOVE AND JOY for Jenn was to take her to the Wizarding World of Harry Potter--a place she's wanted to go LONG before it was even open (we're both huge Harry Potter fans!). We both loved it SO MUCH. My FAVORITE part (arguably! How could there ever be a "favorite" part?) was the Butterbeer. Now, the recipe in the park is actually vegan (they wanted to make it edible by the most people possible, so it has no milk in it whatsoever! Even the frothy top!), but the closest recipe to what I think it would actually taste like isn't. So we're going to experiment like crazy, and if we come up with something that tastes like it, I shall DEFINITELY SHARE. You do not KNOW how GOOD YOUR LIFE CAN BE until you have had Universal Studio's Butterbeer. :9 :9 :9 (I should make a commercial for them. XDDDDDDDD)

This is my Patented!Mulder!Look!(tm)--I have my wife and Butterbeer--life is swell. ;D

The beginnings of our marriage license. <3


Jenn hung our marriage license in our bedroom today. I noticed it when I was taking off my earrings when I came home from work. We'd talked about finding the most special place possible for it, proudly displayed in its new frame. It's right next to our gigantic "happily ever after" plaque, and when I saw it, I got teary eyed all over again.

If you're a straight person, reading the above paragraph, you might not understand it. A marriage license is something you've always been allowed to have, something you've never had to think about. That's not your fault. You were born that way. You were allowed marriage and I wasn't, though your love is not better or worse than my love. Not better or worse, just different. But the ramifications of its differentness impacts me deeply and legally. Or, it did. Until a few months ago.

You see, Jenn and I live in New York state. NY began to allow gay marriages on July 24, 2011. I remember that day with such a striking vividness, though I remember the moment that they announced it as legal much, much clearer.

We were having a fairy party (you are not surprised) over the weekend, and many of our guests had already arrived that evening when my best friend--who hadn't yet made it--called me. I couldn't hear her amidst the laughter, so I went into the bedroom, hand clasped over my other ear. "...it passed?" she yelled breathlessly, exuberant. "I don't know if it passed, silly!" I laughed back, "we don't know if it's going to be voted on tonight..." "No!" she shouted. "SARAH. It PASSED."

My world fell away. I stood, silent, limp when she said: "SARAH? DID YOU HEAR ME? IT PASSED."

And then I began to sob. I sobbed, breathless, for five minutes, turning, blind, to collapse into Jenn's arms. I kept crying, everyone gathered worriedly. "It didn't pass?" someone whispered, and only then did I find my voice, only then did months, years of activism, of praying, of frustration, of abuse from angry, homophobic people fall completely away into my personal history as I gulped air, shook my head, and through my tears I said over and over again like someone who's been given the world: "no. It PASSED. Oh god, it passed."

I'd always been so afraid, though I'd tried to hide it. Afraid that Jenn would get sick, that they wouldn't let me see her in the hospital. Afraid something terrible might happen to me, and she be left with nothing (the house is in my name). All of the little things that a married couple never even has to think about I thought about day and night. For Jenn and I were already married, though it wasn't legal. And if she'd gotten ill or something had happened to me, it would have meant nothing to the faceless systems that would keep us apart.

It sounds science fiction-y, doesn't it. Like something out of a movie, that in this day and age, two passionately and madly in love people could be kept from one another in the moments that matter most. My worst nightmares contained faceless hospital staff that stood and barred the door, refusing me admittance to the room where my wife lay, calling for me. It's a grotesque and dramatic image, but it happens every single day in this country. Every single day in every single state that does not have gay marriage or protection for gay couples.

It wasn't just about the legal ramifications, the safety that would be afforded to us once it passed. It was the "less than" status that, every day, we combated. Gay marriage in NY state has not been a miracle pill. In our rural community, it's still sometimes frightening to be an openly gay woman. Countless people still look down at us, hate us, make the everyday, simple task of holding hands a political statement open for commentary by every stranger passing.

But we're legal. We are no longer less than. And that has begun to make all the difference.

The problem, now, is...well, I'm calling it "survivor's guilt." You see, we have a lot of gay friends. Many of them don't live in NY. Some of our dearest loved ones are not allowed the exact same rights that we have because of geography, because of the state they live in. Which seems so odd, so wrong, so ridiculous to me that I have a hard time understanding it. L and J, two beautiful hearts and so in love women, cannot marry because their state doesn't allow it. So, while I am afforded the legal safety and privileges of marriage, they are still in the cold and dark of waiting for their state to see progress, to see empathy and equality. There is nothing different about their love from ours.

The only difference is geography.

I can't stop looking at our marriage license. I have such mixed feelings when I do. Relief. Elation. Love. Joy. Happiness. Gratitude.

And sadness that I'm one of the "lucky" ones. When we should ALL be the "lucky" ones.

Some of our older gay friends have reminded me, gently, that Rome wasn't built in a day. When Jenn and I fell in love, eight years ago, we could never have imagined that we would, today, be legally married. THAT seemed like science fiction, and yet--look. Eight "short" years later, and I wear a beautiful, shining wedding band that symbolizes, as simple metal can try, everlasting love. Who knows what eight years more can do?

I have hope. I have faith.

And though I am now afforded these shiny, new legal rights, I can't stop. No one can stop. And no one is stopping. We are all still trying, still fighting, and we will never stop fighting for equal rights for all. Everywhere. EveryONE.

Regardless of geography.

(cross-posted at Muse Rising)

This is the week of potluck suppers. On Monday night, it was our first Unitarian Universalist potluck, tonight it's the monthly Gay Potluck (capitalized!).

Gathering around the table, rubbing elbows and passing dishes with people who make you laugh and feel completely safe and important and needed...I really can't think of anything better in the world. Your opinion is valued, the conversations are witty and passionate and filled with compassion, and--at the end of the day, driving home with your wife's hand clasped gently in your own--you're filled with such a deep sense of belonging, that you can feel the heartbeat of the universe in your bones.

It doesn't matter what was served--though you can tell the depth of their care by their asking what sort of food we vegetarians prefer, and making certain there's plenty of exactly what you mentioned there. It doesn't matter if you show up late or early. There will be people there, warm lights shining in a cobblestone house or out of stained glass windows in an ancient church that sits, comfortable and cozy and waiting to welcome you.

I don't know how we lived without this church, or the people in it in our lives. B makes our days bright--I love him so much it makes my heart hurt, sometimes. He's the epitome of goodness and kindness, the absolute consummate fairy godfather. I wish I could frame these little moments in my heart and keep them forever--I hope I can. He cares about us so much, and just knowing that he and his love exists makes the world beautiful.

L, the pastor's wife, is my saint. She's so passionate, she sets the world on fire--she's so radical and strong and courageous that--single handedly--she could make the planet turn back on its axis if she wanted. I have never seen a woman so dedicated to ideals and so adverse to just sitting there and waxing philosophic about them. She changes shit. I've told her, over and over again, what an inspiration she is to me as a gay rights activist and lesbian author, and she always turns it around and says that I'm inspiring, and then I'm like YOU ARE CHANGING THE WORLD, CRAZY LADY, I AM JUST WRITING BOOKS, and we always end the conversations with hugs and me in tears and this overflowing feeling of disbelief in my heart that I ever existed without knowing her. She challenges me, every single day, to be a stronger person, to do and be and create more, to change the world every second, not just occasionally. I am so endlessly inspired by her presence in my life.

Tonight, we're going to the Gay Potluck, and I've looked forward to it so incredibly much since the last one. There, we are surrounded by people who have been through...everything. And still manage to have such incredible dignity, such grace and compassion. I don't understand how they do it, sometimes, and I am continuously challenged by them to be even better. If they've been through so much, and still maintain their lives with beauty and compassion, surely I can try to do the same. Again, they care about Jenn and I so much, and I am just so vastly humbled and grateful for that. We'll pass around plates of decadence (and Jenn's cupcakes that Bill asked, so excitedly, for her to make <3), and we'll talk about the state of the world and each other's gardens and hearts, and speak of politics and books and gay kids and recipes, and at the end of the night, we'll leave the little cobblestone house filled with the satisfaction that there is a place for us in the world. There will be so much love in our hearts, they'll feel full to bursting, and we'll begin the looking-forward-to-ness again for next month, and another dinner with our gay family.

Because that's what these circles are--families. Created families. The warmth and compassion and kindness and love that fills those walls and words and gestures sustain us in the times when we're apart, knowing that there is a place for us--that we belong without any doubt.

Being an openly lesbian woman is not easy. Some days, it's fine. Some days, it's a fucking nightmare. No matter what, surrounded by our church or gay families, I can hold Jenn's hand, drape my arm about her shoulder, talk with hardly concealed glee and love about how much I adore her, and it's met with love and cheer and joy and an "of course." I don't have to explain it or fight for it there and I am treated no differently for it. Which...I can't even explain how that feels, to be treated not differently. Gods.

It's...sublime. Perfect.

I have three created families. You here...you're one of them. And I miss you terribly. I get to see you perhaps a few times a year, and the times in between are sad and despondent for me, because of how much I miss you.

But now, in the in between times, my feelings of belonging, of love, don't need to wilt away to nothingness. They are nurtured by the two new families that we began in June, here.

I am so grateful, so humbled, so deeply content that I have this--a spiritual family, a gay family, to share my days with, to feel when all the world is against me that there is some small, blessed portion that is not.

When the dark comes sooner, when the days grow colder, when the world turns to winter...my heart is filled and warm.

Did you Come Out today in honor of National Coming Out Day? You're AWESOME. In CELEBRATION of your awesome, I'm giving you a free gay book at MuseRising! ♥