What I have in common with Beccy Cole

(Apart from stunning good looks and singing ability).

2012 seems to be the "year of coming out" for some reason. I'm not exactly sure why that's so, but I'm happy to run with it.

So far, we've seen the likes of Magda Szubanski, Queen Latifah,  and Anderson Cooper come out, and last night I watched as Beccy Cole came out on the ABCs Australian Story.

It was a wonderful program to watch - raw and honest and funny. I suspect much like Beccy herself.

One of the most common questions I see asked in comments threads about any news story that has anything to do with being gay or lesbian is why is there a need to come out at all. It's often followed by a loaded statement, such as "I don't feel the need to declare myself a male heterosexual".

Well, of course you don't. Everybody already just assumes you're straight.

Coming out is not what I really wanted to talk about in this post though.

Most of us have a kind of "aha" moment - the moment of realisation that we can put a name to our feelings. Some of us, like me, have a series of "aha" moments, which build into the Big Moment of Acceptance.

One of those moments came as a result of the BBC show "Playing the Field". It was while watching that show that Beccy says her "aha" moment came.

It was because of that show that I had one of my moments that lead to me accepting myself for who I am.

When that show was airing here in Australia, I was playing for a soccer team called The Blues - same as the show - and so my team mates and I would dissect each episode at training and before and after games. It was funny to watch a show about a team with the same name as us, and pretty cool too. We tried to match up characters with our team mates, with often hilarious results.

It was during one such discussion while watching a match with some parents of my younger team mates that I came close to outing myself. Close, but not quite.

One parent mentioned their frustration that the show was perpetuating a stereotype that dykes played soccer. I listened for awhile, and then said "I can guarantee you that every women's team in our competition has at least one lesbian on the team."

Stopped the conversation dead did that comment.

One of the mums then asked "Every team?" I just looked at her and smiled, and said "Every team."

It's funny looking back now, because I wonder if they actually worked out that I was talking about myself. When I think about my team at the time, process of elimination should have probably brought them back to me.

Nothing changed though with the way I was treated if they did put two-and-two together, and when I did eventually "come out" when I found myself a wonderful partner (who for some reason is still sticking by me), my team mates and their parents and partners were wonderfully accepting.

But helping me on my gay self-discovery wasn't the only thing that show did for me. It actually gave me the inspiration I needed to start writing again. I have two half-finished YA manuscripts to prove it. Both sound ideas, but terribly flawed in their current condition. Both ideas that I will hopefully pursue in the future.

So to those who want to know why we feel the need to come out, I guess it comes down to power. 

The problem lies with those "others" who would choose to define us by our sexuality. We "come out" to claim it for ourselves, before someone else does it for us. We do it to show we're proud of who we are, despite this "thing" that we're told is a flaw in our make up.

Being anything other than straight can still be confronting for some people - and for those of us in that minority, we take a huge risk in coming out, so it's not for the faint hearted. It takes courage and confidence.

We risk losing family, friends and jobs. And for someone like Beccy Cole, she risks losing fans, and she also risks a public (and sometimes private) backlash.

But to Beccy Cole, and anyone else coming out, wanting to come out, or wondering if they should, I have this advice:

We are who we are. Those who judge you on one aspect of your self are not worth having in your life.

And from my perspective as a writer, the people who stop reading this blog because they find out I'm gay are not the people I want as fans.

Being gay is not a huge thing in my life, unless others choose to judge me on it. But then, that's their problem, not mine.

Oh, and just one last thing Beccy - I think you'll discover a whole new group of fans after your "coming out". We're a pretty accepting bunch, and we love to celebrate and support our own.

Gagged by a Chupa Chup - Why I'm Re-branding my Blog

Want to keep me quiet? Get me some of these.

When I was coaching a women's soccer team (eons ago), one of the players (who is still a good friend of mine) gave me a Chupa Chup before the game. I was touched, until she said "It's to give you something to suck on so you shut up while we're playing."

It worked. Anyone who knows me well knows I can get very long-winded, especially when I get onto a topic I love.

I'm passionate about a lot of things, and I probably have an opinion on most things, which makes me a very interesting party guest. Especially if I've had a few beers. But I digress.

Personal Me is currently in discussions with Writer Me about this blogging deal. Truth is, I'm over it, and it's not hard to figure out why. I'm trying to get down to the bottom of who I am in order to distil the "Essence of Me", which is supposed to then allow me to decide what I want to blog about.

In order to build a platform for my writing (as opposed to me), I need to work out my niche (which I've found), and work out who my potential readers are (which I'm working on). I need to post things that would be of interest to them, and not get overly personal, because they want to connect with what I say, rather than me personally.

And they want to know I can write.

Makes perfect sense.

The problem? The stuff that I'm passionate about at this point in time doesn't really over lap with my writing. Which means I feel like I'm splitting myself in two here. Since that's pretty bloody uncomfortable, my two halves are trying to come to a compromise.

Personal Me wants to talk (ok, rant and rave) about gay marriage, politics, sport, beer, you know, all that fun and controversial stuff. A lot of the stuff might not be of interest to my potential readers, but it's interesting to me. And I love writing about that stuff too.

Writer Me wants to talk about books and writing and other fun lesbian stuff. All the stuff that might appeal to my potential readers.

Both Me's love the blogging platform. A big part of why I love writing is that I seem to be able to express myself better in the written word, which then makes me able to express it better to people when I talk about things.

I don't want to come across as some sort of activist or raving looney to potential readers though, because my writing is different to that.

I've tried just posting comments on websites, news sites and other blogs, but the long-winded part of me wants to go on and on and on, until someone shoves a Chupa Chup into my mouth to shut me up.

I feel hamstrung by the restrictions I need to place on myself in order to build my writer platform, and it hurts. I've banned myself from the internet a couple of times until I can come up with a post related to my platform, rather than a rant about something totally unrelated to what I write.

I don't want to hate this platform, because I need it to make Writer Me's work viable. But I don't want to restrict what I talk about because Personal Me takes great pride in being interested in all sorts of stuff.

So here's what I'm going to do. I'm going to re-brand this blog. It's where I'll blog whenever I have something to say and there'll be no restrictions on content. This is where you get the raw, unadulterated me. There may be times when there'll be a crossover because I'll want to talk about a book or movie that will also be of interest to Writer Me.

But mostly, this will be me, straight-up. Well, not straight, but you know what I mean.

Sometimes what I write will interest you, sometimes it won't.

But here's the key. What links everything together is my voice - the way I write stuff. I write like I talk - for the most part - so what you see here is basically what you'd hear if I were talking directly to you. My voice is the rope that keeps Personal Me and Writer Me tethered at the hips.

So, I get to write about whatever the hell I want, with the proviso that I write it in my voice and stop trying to cram myself into a writer box that doesn't go with the colour of my eyes.

I get to kill two birds with one stone - I get to keep Personal Me and Writer Me happy, and hopefully they start to play nice again and let me get the hell on with my writing.

So, without further ado, welcome to the new, improved blog - "The Shit I Know".

Why the change in title? I'll tell you all about that in my next post........



Photo courtesy of Vivian Bedoya

Sunday Sesh #20 - My Lesbian Story brought to you by Cascade Blonde

This Sunday Sesh is brought to you by Cascade Blonde. I've had it in the cupboard for awhile from when I bought a Cascade sample pack before Christmas, and since I didn't want to review all of the Cascades at once, I left this one til now. Plus, a friend of mine said I should give it a go, so this review's for you, Alicia.

Cascade Blonde

Firstly, apologies for no Sunday Sesh last weekend. My real job, house stuff, business stuff and a prior engagement all conspired to whittle away most of my time over the last couple of weeks so that I ran out of it, and didn't get a chance to post a blog.
However, I'm back to the beer-reviewing this week.

So, Cascade Blonde.
This one's very fruity and crisp, slightly cloudy in the glass with a frothy head that slides down the glass as you sip. It's another one that could almost be mistaken for a shandy because of it's slight bitterness and very little after taste. It's something you could drink easily in a session and not realise how many you've had. Good one for a hot day.


This post was inspired by a young'un I know who came out to all and sundry a little while ago, via facebook, no less. I've known her since she was a shy thirteen year-old, and to see her (and the rest of my former soccer team-mates from long times past) grow into the confident and crazy woman she is now is wonderful.

I was in my early twenties when I discovered I was a lesbian (still am, but that's another story...)

It was at that moment I decided I would be a cat-lady - living by myself with a house full of feral cats in a derelict but eccentric house, terrorising children with my wild hair and icy stare.

Why? Because I would rather be single than run the gauntlet of lesbian dating. When you're a lesbian, the field of potential partners is vastly smaller than if you're straight. Plus, there's always the danger of falling for a straight girl or getting mixed signals from the object of your desire who isn't entirely sure if she plays for your team, or if she even wants to. (Again, another story for another time).

Granted, being a lesbian on the dating scene is probably easier than being a gay man on the dating scene. You're far more likely, as a lesbian, to get a positive response from the object of your desire should they be straight, than if you're a gay guy. Though the response of the object of your affection is in direct proportion with the size of the boyfriend, if she has one.

The other thing I realised early on was that it's pretty hard to come out when you're single. Quite simply, people tend not to believe you. They think it's a phase (though this can happen even if you are with partner), or that you just haven't met the right bloke yet. I realised pretty early on then, that it's far easier to just not say anything, unless asked.

Funny thing about these types of decisions when you're that age - something always happens to turn them upside down.

For me, that was meeting my wife. As she tells it, it was definitely not love at first sight. Me though? Well, she hid my beer (flirty little thing) and then after I cracked open a fresh one, the old one mysteriously reappeared. Kind of like when you're in primary school and the boy who likes you pulls your hair, not because he hates you, but because he wants you to be his girlfriend.

I figured she wanted me to be her girlfriend, so I pursued her relentlessly. Meaning: I rang her for a ride home at various times in the wee hours when I was blind drunk, and skirted around the issue of my feelings for her. Apparently, as often happens, all our friends knew we liked each other, but we were both too, well, immature I suppose, to admit it. One night, at the pub, we just kind of started holding hands, and it spiralled from there.

Since then it's been a whirlwind of big moves and overseas trips, a couple of false-start marriage proposals, a wedding, acquiring two gorgeous puppies and making a home together.

Turns out, my lesbian life is a lot different from the one I imagined when I was just coming to terms with my sexuality. Turns out, my relationship isn't really anything different from my sisters' relationships with their other halves, or my brother's with his girlfriend. All that angst early on about not being "normal" was wasted energy.

Now I have bills to pay, a bank to keep happy with regular house payments, and a wife to keep happy with my baking. Not to mention two dogs who act out like spoiled children when we don't spend time with them. How much more normal can you get?

I guess the lesson here is that if life throws you lemons, you can still have the white picket fence (if that's what you want).