Self Injury Awareness Day

I used to cut myself, it was the only way I could let the overwhelming pain flow from my body, the physical pain releasing the emotional pain. I used to do it in places no one would ever see along my inner thighs and my rib cage under my arms. One day I cut to deep and the bleeding was too much. I didn’t go to the hospital I didn’t want them to think I tried to kill myself. I was able to make the bleeding stop, and in that moment, I realised all of it had to stop. If I didn’t stop this cutting even that would begin to grow numb, and soon I would need to cut deeper and deeper, and maybe next time I wouldn’t be able to stop the bleeding. Or even worse I wouldn’t want to stop the bleeding. I’m not going to lie, it wasn’t easy and sometimes still when I feel emotionally frustrated I want the run a knife along my skin. But I don’t. I stop, because there are better ways to deal with emotions, and I deserve those better ways. I see that now.

Oct 11

Queer Our Schools Speech

I want to tell you a story. Like all good stories it takes place in a land far away, but not a time long ago. The place is a school in a small town of no more than 1,000 people. The students are around 16 years old. We are in the the hallway between classes. The boys are dressed in baggy jeans and t-shirts. The girls are wearing trouser or skirts except in a few tragic cases where they are wearing skorts, and simple blouses.

This story is about that boy right there , no not the idiot wearing the “no fear” shirt, no that on right there. He’s got bleach blond hair with bright blue fringe that is spiked up. He is wearing a black leotard with a silver sequined tank top and black and blue marbles satin culottes and silver glitter combat boots. He pauses to touch up his pink glitter lipgloss and continues on head down as if trying to disappear despite his outfit. That’s how he doesn’t notice the football player who shoves him hard into the locker and he friend who kicks the boy in the stomach.

The boy picks up his books and continues swishing his way to class.

That night the boy will go home where he’ll take a shower crying lightly and letting the pain out wondering, do I be me, or do I be who they want me to be. Do I win or do I lose?

This boy hasn’t eaten lunch at school in two years because then he might have to go to the bathroom and that’s not possible at the school. The boys won’t let him into the boy’s bathroom, he obviously can’t use the girls bathroom, and the school won’t let him use the locked unisex bathroom that is teachers only. So he doesn’t eat breakfast or lunch so that he won’t have to use the bathroom.

He is the only out gay person in his school and town, they weren’t ready for him.

That was nearly 15 years ago.

As that boy grew up he was determined that he would put a stop the homophobia and transphobia that he dealt with in school. That boy grew up to be a strong, loud spoken ,and fabulous woman. One that spoke at schools and conferences and continues to work hard to end homophobia in schools. One that stands here speaking to you now.

I am saddened that homophobia and transphobia continue to plague our schools, continue to plague our students. The current government and society overall seems to think saying “it gets better” is enough, that it will cure everything. It won’t. The government needs to take a strong hand on homophobia and transphobia, including that which is perputrated by the schools and their officials.

Our children deserve the right to express themselves, to be themselves without being harassed. Deserve the right to go to school without fear of bullying and abuse. Deserve to feel that they are able to stand out and say I am who I am, and not fear the teacher blaming them for the bullying.

We tell our children “to thine own self be true”, we need to support them when they follow that advice.

I’m standing here to demand that the government do something about homophobia and transphobia not only in our schools but within it’s own administration.

I am here and I am queer and I won’t shut up.

This has got to get better, the government has to wake up and help stop homophobia and transphobia in our schools. Our future depends on it. We can’t keep telling our youth that “it gets better” with out making any effort to make it better NOW!

I challenge the government to improve our schools NOW, to make things better NOW, to stop homophobia NOW, to stop transphobia NOW. For the better of the our youth, and our world.

May 3

Preserving the Tradition…

I know that many of you are slowly starting to unpack your warm weather clothes, are enjoying flowers starting to peep out from the dirt, and are thinking wistfully towards the upcoming summer. The blogs I read are all aflutter of spring and summer projects. There are plans for colourific contests competing with natures own colours and simple summer sewing projects being planned. Ah, yes spring.

I on the other hand am sitting in the couch snuggled into a quilt. I’m starting to unpack my warm woolen summers, and favorite knits. Out come the simple summer boots and the useless* umbrellas. I’m staring grumpily at the grey, cold, rain thinking about all the summer things I miss. It’s autumn.

When I lived in Michigan I loved autumn, the smell, colour changes, and the slow transition to crisp snow. In Wellington it just gets cold and wet. Trees have leaves one week and none the next. Instead of slowly introducing you to cold weather Wellington autumn slowly sneaks up on you and suddenly one day you were wearing tank tops and shorts the next your bundled up in 4 or more layers.

At first I hated it, but now I have adjusted to it. It just means more indoor hobbies. Autumn has become less about playing in leaves and more about knitting, spinning and cooking.

And nothing makes autumn more bearable than jarring/canning, especially when it’s your favorite. I remember every autumn I would look forward to two things, both from my grandmother. Her homemade delicious pumpkin pie and apple butter. Being gluten intolerant and living in New Zealand make the pumpkin pie nearly impossible for me to make. The apple butter is a different story completely!

Note: apple butter does not contain any actual butter or dairy. The name apple butter comes from it’s smooth butter like texture.

This past Saturday I got down to work with 2kg of delicious granny smith apples and everything I needed and got down to work. I was using this recipe with a few minor changes; I left out the lemon items and added a touch more clove. The thing about apple butter is it takes hours and HOURS of work, I spent at least 3 hours alone just stirring. It’s all worth it in the end.

Sorry I couldn't help taking a wee bite or two first.

There are very few redeeming features to Wellington autumn, but making jams, jellys and apple butter is right near the top

*the umbrellas are useless due to the constant high force wind that we have here in wellington!

Apr 4

For Wendy I stitch

I met Wendy through the Wellington Embroiderer’s Guild, we joined at the same time. We talked often at the meetings and at the monthly social stitch-ins. Looking at us besides embroidery people might not have seen a lot in common, but I think at times we felt that we had more in common than others. We were both part of a group that at times could be cold and stand-offish especially if you didn’t fit into their rigid mold. We didn’t fit.

Wendy was not only and amazing embroiderer, but and outspoken activist for people who have mental illnesses something we both struggle with. I had read many articles about her speaking out, and we had several conversations about the work that needs to be done.

Wendy had an amazing eye for colour and a unique style that so very often reminded me of Mexican day of the dead celebrations. Wendy was celebrating life instead. I remember when and how I found out Wendy was sick, it was from her. She had told me she had cancer and was dying with maybe a year to live. She then went back to stitching her piece like she had just told me it was raining and that’s all.

Yesterday Wendy lost her battle with cancer at 4pm.

I wish that I could have told Wendy how much I admired her strength and courage. How much I loved her wall hangings. how much the brooch that she gave me for my birthday meant to me. How much her style of embroidery and the things she made pushed my boundaries and inspired me.

I kept meaning to go see Wendy, take her some flowers, talk to her, be there. I let my life get in the way, and I regret that, I know though that Wendy wouldn’t want me to sit here and beat myself up. She would want me to sit down and try something new stitch something different and enjoy life.

So today, Wendy, I stitch for you!

Apr 3

busy, busy, busy, girl!

I fully took advantage of the public holiday and stitched all day(as I plan on doing all weekend) and wow I finished a bunch of things…

First off I did the construction of the needle book not because I was particularly excited about it. In fact the construction stage is usually where all of my crafts go from WIP to UFO’s, this is something I’m trying to work on. For the needle book tho it was pure need that propelled me further. Since the discovery of a rust spot from a needle in my wedding sampler(something I think I can fix) I have seend the need for a book to atleast put the needles of my current projects… so I cranked this out and am very very happy with it!

With that completed and needing something to do in my hands while I watched telly I sought a project to do. Yes I know I have 8 million knitting UFO’s but I just couldn’t get into my knitting I wanted to do some stitching. Then I had an idea (I know a scary thing around this house, my husband practically cringes when I say I have an idea. Not because my idea’s are dumb, or even out right crazy, just usually very very complicated, bizarre or next to impossible feats that I imagine I can accomplish, usually in a short period of time).

Since I have been wearing more Victorian clothing lately I have wished I could wear my great-great-grandmothers cameo brooch of her mother as a young lady that was made for when she sailed over to the states from england in 1879. But the hand carved bone is so delicate it was sheer to begin with in nearly 150 years has not been good to it. What if, I copied it in stumpwork? What if? Hmmm I’ve never done stumpwork before. It’s okay tho I have a book on it! So I sat down with my husband and season 2 of Battlestar Galactica (we have just started to watch this series) and stitched away. a couple hours later I had this. Am i completely happy with it YES! Is it perfect hmm not really but pretty darn good for a first try.

So that was done and we still had more BSG to watch, what is a girl to do? I know I might as well work on my wedding sampler. I know I put this aside for more interesting techniques but simple one colour cross stitch can be really fun. seeing the design come to life before your eyes. Although I think I might unpick that bird on the ground just a bit crowded for my taste. I’ll be adding more green in to the sampler in the future.

Well that’s it for me everyone enjoy the long weekend. Next post I’ll talk about the mystery project that I have needed all the appliqué practice for! As for now I might go do some knitting or stitch more on that wedding sampler who knows!