Friday, December 19, 2014


From fourth through sixth grades, I was annoyed by a boy, Chesley, who had an open crush on me.  He was the eldest son of the minister of the Baptist Church I attended, and he constantly tried to assume a friendship with me I did not feel.  Because of the socialization I was receiving to be "nice to boys no matter what", I did not feel free to tell him the pre-teen version of "fuck off".

On top of his inability/refusal to observe my boundary, Chesley was what we called a goober:  someone considered funny-looking and funny-acting.  He giggled too much, over nothing, and his facial features were not conventionally attractive.  Thus, the teasing that I got from other kids about him being my "boyfriend" was a slam at me and how I did not fit the standards of attractiveness, either (I was anorexic, ill-looking, and dressed like the poor kid I was.)

I have not thought of him since we left that town, but today I ran across his unusual surname in another setting and I did a google search for him.  Turns out, he is dead, died last year after a long battle with cancer.  He was a Master Sergeant in the Air Force, had married and had a daughter, and that is all I could glean from his online obituary except a long list of in-laws and a photo of him.  He still looked like a goober.

I have some empathy for him now.  His preacher father was a dick, and Chesley was uprooted often as the family moved to new church jobs.  He had neither charm nor looks to fall back on, and was not especially bright.  I have no earthly idea why he fixated on me, but did not trust it then and I think my radar was likely right.  I was actively being molested at the time, and I believe that shows on children if anyone bothers to look.

I thank all that is glorious and good for bringing feminism to my generation, for giving me language and theory to sidestep hopeless heterosexuality and submission to males.  I have had a hard row to hoe, but I have been loved well by women and some self-examined men.  I have made a difference, I have expressed my soul, and in four days I will have survived my second Saturn return in Scorpio, something my mother, grandmother and great-grandmother did not manage to do.


Tuesday, December 16, 2014


Here's the weekly best of what I've gleaned from I Can Has Cheezburger efforts. There are some really creative folks out there.