A couple of weekends ago I faced a demon, a fear of mine that presented itself in a human form. The kind of fear that sent my body into sharp chills, making my fingertips royal blue with shock. It’s funny how much your body stores reaction from a time when the trauma was first felt, and in an instant all of that can come flooding back in. Sometimes even before your mind has a moment to register what had just happened.
This particular event was somewhat of a boiling point for me, a point where the battle between my sexuality and my spirituality came to a standstill. I was thrown into this sort of dark abyss where I was forced to think about my decisions, thoughts I had been burying away hoping to never stumble upon the roots that it grew.
Well, that’s enough metaphor to paint a picture, I won’t divulge the details of what happened YET. I feel like I need to unpack the happenings and the feelings in the months and years prior to this turning point before I can truly bring myself to write down what actually happened. I will try to stick to somewhat chronological order with these happenings. The happenings of me first realizing, neglecting, more realizing and more neglect to where I came to that night.
I can recall my first rainbow fuzzies all the way back to the late 90s or early 00s at kindergarten. I went to a kindergarten that was semi-attached to a church (most of my school life was affiliated with some aspect of a Christian denomination), it was also a stone’s throw away from a train station that ran parallel to the golden coast.
I still recall the early morning sea breeze as I would get dropped off at school, the crows were just waking up and the air was crisp enough to snap you out of your morning fatigue. My five-year-old body had yet to depend on the fizzle of caffeine, so I had to depend on environmental stimulants (and a lot of it, hence me not being diagnosed with ADHD up until now as an adult).
I always gravitated to the flock of girlies gathered in the corner engrossed in very critical kindergarten chat. I would always do my best to avoid playing whatever it was with the boys as I didn’t want to get my outfit ruined by sweat and mud before school had already begun.
I consider this my first rainbow fuzzy. Come to think of it, I would also avoid playing with the boys as I was well aware (even at 4 years old) that these legs were not built for sport and only built for strutting. I did try sport throughout my school life, just so that I could potentially dig into my genes to find even an ounce of sporting ability my father and my grandmother spoke of being in my blood. It was also an attempt in trying to get closer to my own father.
Anyway, yes, so the rainbow fuzzies.
I describe this sensation as these little sparkles that fly off your skin when you know you are in the right space at the right time. But at the same time, these were sparkles of nervousness and shame as I would always anticipate being told off for spending too much time with the girls and to go play with the boys.
So to wrap it up, society said no to these sparkles and thus began my journey to flipping this script on its head.
Xoxo your friendly neighborhood brown boy