One of the worst dreams I ever had I was impenetrable. No bullet could harm me I was made of mercuryman stuff, like Robert Patrick in T2 and I made a habit of stealing from the rich to give to the poor. What I didn't know was that on my back was a giant light switch, that when flipped turned my powers right off. Betrayed by a friend, someone snuck up behind me. I wasn't worried because nothing could hurt me until I felt them turn my switch. I turned and taunted the police bravado unquelled. They shot me and I woke up screaming and swimming in sweat.
My brother calls frantic during a late april wednesday afternoon.
He's upset cause he's just had a wallop of a political discussion with a professor in a late night class — she started spouting, "those who live here are ungrateful, they wrap themselves in the blanket of freedom paid for with the deaths of soldiers ect, ect. My brother disagrees and tells me so heatedly I wonder if he didn't offend. He tells me that he waited till after the class was over and people were leaving to let her know that he understood it was a political discussion and everything's cool with him, as long as he's not going to get graded down for having this discussion. I automatically ask if the teacher is white, and she is. So my brother goes up to this white woman professor and touches her on the elbow to get her attention, she starts screaming LEAVE ME ALONE & DON'T TOUCH ME My brother is surprised and shocked and of course he thinks it's about him. "Why do people always think I'm threatening them?" He tells me he thinks it's something in his face, the way the corners of his mouth always have a faint smile. "Why do people think I'm like a molester?" He reminds me of how his father would forbid him from going into his sisters rooms and "bothering" them. He wasn't allowed to be in any of the girls rooms by himself; after the allegations of abuse against my stepdad he was very touchy about such things. I have no idea how to tell him he is the most beautiful creature I have had the privelige of knowing. How can I tell him that we all have these ingrained pieces that don't smooth out with enough rubbing? Where should I begin? I tell him that no matter what, when someone is upset and freaking out you have to leave them alone; one must bounce as quick as possible. I tell him, it doesn't matter that you were trying to make her listen, that you were trying to make everyone happy. You can't. For him to try is wonderful, but so unexpected that it can be viewed as suspicious by folk who are irrational of which there are many. He tells me he doesn't want to get a bad grade because a woman was emotional, and I don't know what to say. Instead I tell him about Kian, me and the end of my association with the QA.
Very simply I said, sometimes there’s nothing you can do but make the situation worse for yourself. I told him how I’d help start the Queer Alliance and helped run it for nearly 3 years before I was escorted away from my university office by campus police. Giving hand jobs to a gay guy is one thing, considering it a relationship another thing. When said gay guy is your compatriot and long time mentee it’s just wrong. It happens often enough in the gay community, young leaders sleeping and learning from elders…but when it’s a bi chick and a flaming gay man, no one really wants to try and understand.
We were fighting Kian and I, all the time during the spring of 2003. We didn’t agree on how to run the organization, and his inexperience mixed with zeal irked me while at the same time I found it deeply inspiring. I wanted to teach him, and figured that having an underling would give me even more support as I tried to make great change in the world. Of course, I wasn’t really thinking about his best interest.
At our spring retreat, I got drunk and broke my 4 year celibacy pact by sleeping with a 17 year gay boy who wanted to try ‘gina for the first time. I took pleasure in knowing that every gay boy I knew (including Kian) wanted to bag this boy, and here was I, the one. Turned out said 17 year old liked very old bears, his first boyfriend had been a local priest or something. Felt like I was doing him a favor at that point, but after I knew that it just kinda felt icky. After school ended for the quarter, the real work of planning for our queer extravaganza National Coming Out Day began. Kian and I wanted it to be better than the year before when we’d had carnival rides and around 3,000 people celebrating National Coming Out Day 2002: The War on Hate. With the marriage battle on the forefront, we all thought it would be awesome to have a gay wedding at school. A dear old friend and personal mentor was thinking of marrying his boyfriend, so I asked them both if they’d consider a free wedding on UCLA’s tab. They accepted and we began planning the most festive wedding possible.
Long hours, and even longer budget requisitions took up a lot of time and Kian started spending the night at my house instead of driving home to Orange County. One night after we fought about something ridiculous like flowers, we had a few drinks and start wrestling on my living room floor. He wrapped his little legs around me, and I wondered for the first time in my head. We kissed and I gave him a little hand job while he massaged my breasts. He wasn’t interested in really having a relationship, seeing as he was gay. I pursued thinking that he shouldn’t be able to get a hard on if he didn’t feel something for me. Sure, now I get that bodies will be bodies, but I hadn’t yet back then. We carried on this ridiculous affair that consisted of me getting him drunk on the nights that he spent the night, hoping to have some real sexual connection. He never touched anything but my breasts, preferring to come on my tits with the lights off after I’d give him a blow or hand job.
Soon, he told me he really didn’t want to do anything with me anymore he told me, but the intimacy we’d shared I found hard to forget. During meetings people started to remark on how things would get done once the two of us were out of the room. A silent warfare started with me blaming him, and vice versa for lacks in our organization or “friendship”. After a particularly brutal budget preparation, Kian and I took a younger QA member to a San Diego bisexual conference. I was dead tired, and wanted to sleep. I’d been bi for a bit then, and knew a bit about the references available so I wasn’t that interested in going to many workshops. Went to a workshop about bisexual activism on colleges and spent time “educating”, which I think really meant derisively suggesting they get their shit together like UCLA queers had.
In 2003, the queer groups on campus accounted for 19 percent of the total budgets given to student groups. Due to the odd relationship of UCLA’s associated student body and the student groups, the student council had 1.8 million dollars to disperse in total, with maybe 1/5 of that going to student groups specifically. With the queer alliance I helped create a monster, in the vein of other super groups on campus. By having 7-10 different groups in one, we could each apply for funds and then share the wealth. In theory.
After the workshop, Kian and I spoke with some other young folk and we all remarked on the advanced age of most of the conference. Bisexuals can be a fairly odd and wonderful lot, acceptance of polyamory being a cornerstone of the movement. Some local students from UCSD walked up with suggestions as we discussed leaving the conference for food. One of them had long, golden brown hair down to zer ass, and was wearing a velvet green skirt. I could see there was some awkward shuffling as people tried to assess the proper gender pronoun for this person. I asked hir if the name card read Jamila, and ze told me it was just Jamil. Jamil was a part time male cross dresser, and full time bisexual genderqueer (imho). Jamil suggested checking out the local LGBT youth center in Hillcrest as they were having a bbq. Kian was slightly annoyed at this new person who’d just joined our group, but I took that as a good sign. The chickee we’d taken with us from UCLA also met a nice young woman right then, so I couldn’t blame Kian for being pissed at being alone at a bi conference. We all went to the youth center and I had a good time meeting the volunteers and talking a bit with Jamil. For some reason he wanted me to go with him back to the conference, he wanted to go to the dance. I told him, I’d see him later but planned on taking a nap, as both me and Kian were both tired. I was still pretty much sure me and Kian could work it out if we tried.
What followed was the worst thing I’ve ever done. Prey became predator that night as Kian really wanted to go to sleep and I just wanted to fondle him. He got really upset when I wouldn’t leave him alone and we started to pillow fight in a really not nice way. I knew I was crossing a line into the land of evil, for I had been touched in so many bad ways once too. I was angry, I wanted him to feel rejection too. I pushed him against the bed and then he kicked me hard in the stomach and I let him alone. Things had gotten dangerous right then, and I think we both knew it. I told him I was sorry that I couldn’t help wanting him, he told me he couldn’t help being gay. I told him I loved him deeply, and I wished we had never touched because all the years of us being friends were now gone. He agreed and we tried to find a way to look each other in the eye, each disgusted with ourselves. It was hard for me to take, that this lil gay kid didn’t want me to give him head anymore. Later that night Jamil and other kids came up to our room to get ready for the dance. Jamil walked in wearing tight black leather pants and a white shirt, he looked like Bowie in Labyrinth or something. We started talking about film, tv and books discovering in a matter of moments that we had much in common. I fixed up his eyeshadow and told him to come back up after the dance and hang out with drinks. Much later that night I’d go down from our hotel room to the dance and check things out, fleeing right back up trying to erase images of near naked elder bisexual mating dances. Jamil brought q-tips up with him the next time, I really don’t know why. I love q-tips though. Supposedly 1 in 100,000 people gets a good feeling from q-tips. I’m one of those people and so was Jamil. We were talking The Next Generation or something when I noticed that Jamil was trying to hook up with Kian. I don’t think it was going that well, as Kian really likes normative folk, not the non. So Jamil kissed me or I kissed him and it was like huh, WHAT THE FUCK! Did you feel that? After everything was said and done, Jamil and I didn’t leave each other’s side for 38 hours the first time we met. After the conference was over we discovered a shared fav comedian Ms. Margaret Cho was performing in Los Angeles. Kian was able to get us tickets in, so much to his chagrin I invited Jamil up to LA. We left the hotel and stopped at Jamil’s so he could pack. I think Kian just had enough of waiting, because I went to check on him and his car was gone and he wouldn’t answer my phone calls. So I got in the car and Jamil drove me back to LA. We watched Margaret Cho and it was awesome and great, and I felt good about myself being me for the first time in a bit.
So Kian wasn’t happy with me, and I with him. We kept fighting in little bits as fall drew near while we tried to put our new found friendship-no-fucking-around to the test. I could see that the pressure of hiding what had happened with us was really freaking him out. I could tell that this person who had once been a friend of mine was slowly turning enemy, but I didn’t leave my own pathetic bubble of not caring for him nor me.
We got into a major fight over Instant Messenger days before our biggest event, I went to the office to settle things with him, I’d hoped. I was sick of being bitchslapped for caring and trying to get things done. I knew that people wished things were less difficult, and that maybe me leaving would help with that. At this point I’d dropped the quarter as was the tradition for fall, so I wasn’t even a student.
10/3/2003 12:09 PM
Hey Folks,
There is a situation that came up. We're going to talk about it tonight.
We will be meeting at the LGBT resource center and NOT the QSC at 6:00
p.m. Avoid the QSC at all costs today; it will be locked and the locks
will be changed.
Don't contact Faith or inform her of our meeting. Faith is currently
very unstable.
Call Kian or LGBT center or moof or jason for any questions.
Last thing, do NOT let this stop you from doing your NCOW
responsibilities. We're still strong, and we're going to get this event
done!!
Signed,
Kian Boloori
Chair of the Queer Alliance
Kian freaked out after our IM conversation and called the leaders and directors of centers, who then called the campus police stating they believed me to be a danger. I can say definitively I had no plans on tearing down what I had spent years making, I just wanted to get my stuff I had told Kian. I guess he thought I meant all the files, when I meant my books, mp3 player, and some sweatshirts I’d left behind; seeing as this had been my office for like 3 years. When I got to the office I could see Kian and some other club officers milling about in the back. As I tried to enter I was stopped by the campus police who told me that had me on record as not being allowed in the office or the building for that matter.
I was escorted away from the office and the building. I didn’t tell anyone about Kian and me then, even though I knew that was the major reason for the reason he had reacted. I couldn’t blame him then, and I still can’t now. I knew better than to fuck around with fire, and if I got burned I couldn’t blame anyone other than myself. I found that the long emails I sent explaining myself went unread by people who felt they already knew what had happened, I’d gone Kerazy. Since it’s not like I haven’t gotten violent before, I didn’t feel I had any recourse. One of my lowest moments in life, when I considered how I’d fucked myself to death. Luckily, many of the people I’d worked with over the years who I considered friends came to my rescue…letting me know how much they supported me, and what an ass Kian was. I can’t say that my brief moments of passionate megalomania (all brought on by the desire for change) didn’t bring me this situation too, but I learned what true friends can be right then in those days.
INT. FAITH’S ROOM – DAY
FAITH I’m so angry right now KIAN I understand. I still support anything you want to do. FAITH Yeah, right Kian. I know you did all of this on purpose. I get it. KIAN How can you say that I planned this. It just worked out like this. FAITH Worked out with me getting fucked. KIAN That’s not what I had planned on. FAITH Yeah, the best laid plans…
Whether it was a co-chair in gay student org, my best friend since freshman year of college…I had to eventually admit I love what I cannot love. But how far will I go?
2005-02-15 16:07:00 RE: THE CHANGE OF UCLA'S TEN PERCENT TO OUTWRITE I agree with Outwrite (http://tinyurl.com/5gz9d)editor Natalie Newton's assertion that the politics of the queer communities are ever changing (Fall 2004/Winter 2005 issue). Indeed, I welcome the need to recognize the contributions of minorities within the queer community and I salute the "resistance" to mainstream conservative (and often self-hating) queer ideology. However, I caution the editorial staff and the UCLA media communications board to resist too drastic of changes, lest you return to UCLA in 10 years and find that Outwrite has sparked a different and quite unintended resistance of its own… As a Black bisexual female I totally understand the editor's wish to recognize new beginnings of inclusion but both time and experience have made me wonder about decisions made for entire communities without major and very public discussions. Sure, change doesn't happen without a fight, but remember NOT to resist the love and hope made possible by a united queer community! Founded in 1968, Ten Percent enjoys worldwide readership and name brand recognition. Keep finding space to respect the sacrifices of those that came before you, them nameless faces that marched onward battling oppression so that you, dear conspirators, might be become in the first place. I remember writing one of the first cover articles on Transgender issues for Ten Percent (Translating An Issue, Spring 2001) and I remember how much that article and explorations of genderqueer issues by the amazing Razi Michael Zarchy promoted discussion amongst the UCLA community. I also remember first reading about Same Gender Loving BlaQue folk, and bisexual fluidity in Ten Percent. The name of a thing does not give us voice, you and WE do. Remember that we leaders and readers are but temporary fixtures here at UCLA, the university retains history of US not only through issues of newsmagazines BUT ALSO through the positive inclusiveness we try and develop during our somewhat short stay. Outwrite would do well to remember that this is but one step in a journey of resistance and realized revolution, to not recognize ALL communities within our own (Bisexual, Conservative, Radical, Poly, Christian, Geek…may the list never end!) would be a great disservice to you and those that came before, as well as the hopeful masses that anxiously await their turn. May resistance never be futile, Faith Cheltenham thefayth@gmail.com EnigmaCon Co-Chair 2005 Queer Alliance Co-Founder and Co-Chair 2001-2003 BlaQue Co-Chair 2001-2003 Queer x Girl Co-Founder Fluid Co-Chair 2001-2002 La Familia Board Member 2000-2001
YOU HAVEN'T GOT A REVOLUTION THAT DOESN'T INVOLVE BLOODSHED, AND YOU AFRAID TO BLEED – MALCOLM X
I never really went to any of my college classes, I always felt stifled, gagged and bound inside them. Large class sizes mean you get to know your TA better than anyone in the class, and when you tend to disagree with opinions; sometimes it sucked to never really agree. To live life contrarily, but feel right. Many of my professors had the same liberal mindset as me, but it seemed to be built on a foundation of doing anything real and active. Making change instead of talking about it. I discarded many a professors' view as an educated, unrealistic, unbalanced view. Like this guy's going to tell me what to do when the cops ask me what I'm doing in the middle of Westwood? Many of the classes that changed me and influenced me were the courses taught by outsiders of the system, those merry few who make a living questioning even their own peers. Roots of the Patriarchy: The History of Goddess worship, Journalism for People of Color Communities: 1992 Riots and the affects on Black and Korean Communities, African American studies: Creative Non Fiction Writing, Education 180: College Retention.
I took 7 years of study at UCLA, took time off in 2000 for national politics, parts of 2002-3 for school politics, and 2004 for personal politics. Or something like that, but I never went long out of UCLA, I wasn't questing for a degree but for an answer to how I could actually change the world. I wanted to make a place for people like me at UCLA, just as I did in high school and as a child at home. I still believe mass communications like the internet, television radio and film are the quickest way to the hearts of so many. I know it was the quickest way to me and without it I might not be here today.