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Why #7

  “I’m here as a Christian, as a parent, as a former conservative Republican, and as a community member who loves my small town. My faith instructs me to love my neighbor as myself. My love for my town compels me to recognize its faults and try to make it better. My experience as a parent reminds me daily that every human being is someone’s child.  Since becoming a parent, I have watched crying children be intentionally ripped from their parents’ arms at the southern border; learned of the horrific suicide rates of transgender teens; and watched George Floyd beg for his mother as he took his final breaths. I started to realize the ways in which my own ignorance was contributing to these horrors. I began to imagine what it would feel like to be a mother at the southern border, or the mother of a transgender child, or the mother of a Black man murdered at the hands of the police. I committed to listen. I was raised colorblind and taught that Pride flags were unnecessary celebrations of s
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Why #6

It has taken me a while to be able to articulate why I am a part of Equity Buckfield. As a white Christian female “of a certain age,” I am aware of my privilege in society and have struggled to accept that I am indeed privileged. What does privilege mean? To me, it means that when I hear people say “I am so tired of hearing about gay/trans/POC/ or any other people’s rights” this means they can turn off thinking about it and get angry when they have to think about it. Not hearing or thinking about these things are easy for someone who thinks none of it affects them.   I am a long-time feminist; you could say I am the feminist Rush Limbaugh warned you about. No, I don't hate men. I am married to one. But as a mother and grandmother, I worry that hard-fought women's rights are under attack. But now this is not my only worry. The rights of any group of people who feel afraid is and should be a worry for all of us.   I grew up here hearing racist, homophobic hateful comments often.

Why #5

  ******TRIGGER WARNING: Deadnaming, misgendering, unsupportive parent********** I took my cat to the vet a few months ago. He is a big cat and barely fits into the carrier. He looked comical on the way there, but I felt so bad. I had not thought beforehand about his size compared to the carrier’s. I felt like a sad parent dropping him off, but the nurse seemed genuinely nice, which helped. I waited patiently for them to let me know when he was ready to be picked up and when it came time, I headed back to the door.  I was greeted by another nurse who complimented my kitty on how handsome he was and then stuttered her way into a conversation with me about her daughter. She proceeded to tell me that her daughter was 10 and trans. She teared up as she mentioned her ex-husband, how unsupportive he was, and how her heart broke for her daughter as she watched her battle with the emotions stemming from having  a parent that was always deadnaming her, misgendering her and refusing to provide h

Why #4

  ******TRIGGER WARNING: Physical and emotional abuse, violent language/slurs********** If you walked by me in the halls of my high school in 1999/2000 you probably wouldn’t know I was there. And trust me, I was hard to miss: Neon green Mohawk, bright red shoes and black shirt and shorts. Against the maroon and white bricks and lockers, I was definitely a sore thumb. Those who did notice me were the popular kids. The football players. The cheerleaders. Wasn’t I the lucky one? They even gave me cool nicknames: Faggot, loser, fatty, chunk, and....you get the idea.  That year I remember talking to a teacher about how I felt; a far stretch for a shy kid like myself. That teacher told me “If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.” So I did. I joined the football team.  Excited, I suited up for my first practice ready to take on the world. But what I had done was take the target that was always on my back and replaced it with a name and number. I was abused, beaten, and humiliated. The locker room wa

Why #3

  Being assigned female at birth was rough; not that I remember that specific moment, but I know the expectations for me to be girly started immediately. That was just not going to work for me. It was obvious to those who were close to me, but never a huge issue. Instead of being pushed to be feminine I was given another label: Tomboy. And that's always been fine with me. I'm now, still, a fully grown tomboy, but I go by another label now: Non-binary.  However, being assigned female at birth did cause bigger issues in my life. Even though I wasn't discovering my own femininity, guys were perceiving me as female prey. My worst experience happened when I was 14 years old. It was my first time being alone with my friends with no adult supervision: An overnight sleepover with girls, but guys showed up to hang out. We were on a friend's property camping in a tent. We had so much fun, and I remember really feeling that for the first time in my life I could really do whatever

Why #2

  My earliest memory is feeling different from my peers at school, especially my male peers. I was only in 4th or 5th grade.   While my other male peers were into sports and doing other “macho” cliche guy stuff like baseball (I did have a short baseball stint until the end of farm team) it wasn’t for me. I enjoyed spending more of my time in the library or visiting older relatives with my mom.    My teachers would compliment me on my beautiful handwriting, but I was often teased by my peers for “writing like a girl”. I don’t remember ever sticking up for myself, but I was often in the principal’s office for acting out or talking too much in class.   I struggled through my elementary and middle school years, wondering how I would be received by my family, my friends, my peers, and my community when I came out as gay.   During my junior year of high school, I finally confided in a so-called friend after a school dance and was immediately outed. Sent into a panic, I had to rush to be the

Why #1

  My (white) father was in the Air Force and stationed in Alaska. He had the good fortune to be invited to go whale hunting with the Inupiaq in Kotzebue. As they came back to shore, my father saw my beautiful mother standing by the water and fell in love. They married and traveled around the world thanks to dad's job in the Air Force. My family finally settled in Maine. We still moved throughout Maine in my younger years, making it difficult to make connections. At one school I was called a "n*gger" by a fellow student and went home to ask my sister what it meant. At another school, I had no friends and usually spent recess sitting by myself. I was always aware that I was different. In addition to being half Inupiaq, I was also coming to terms with being gay. Eventually, we moved to a tourist town where we stayed until my high school graduation. I was one of maybe ten people of color in my school. Lovingly, my friends would call me "Lil' Eskimo." I felt like