Hidden Happiness

“It is not easy to find happiness in ourselves, and it is not possible to find it elsewhere.”

- Agnes Repplier

Best Friends

I can’t remember. I don’t want to remember. Fifteen years, has it been that long? I can still feel her sometimes. Curled up on the bed. Talking. Her breath on my neck, my ear. Not that she meant to. Not that she felt the same way. Best friends. She’s in love with her best friend. They know everything about you. You share your life, your dreams, your aspirations. In the end, we all fall in love with our best friends. Does she believe me when I say she’s wrong?

“Dr. Mensonge?”

“I’m sorry, dear, what was that?” Don’t let her into your head. Don’t allow your thoughts to stray. Save her.

“I was just asking if you knew of the film A Florida Enchantment?”

She has certainly done her research. She thinks this is alright. Make her see. Scare her. “Yes I have dear, and may I say it is a blatant attack on modern American values as we know them.” I’m going to hell.

“Why would you say that, Dr. Mensonge? It’s just two men dancing.”

“Just two men dancing? There are multiple references to transexuality and homosexuality. What’s next, interracial marriage and reproduction?” People are people. Love is love. That’s what makes the world, keeps it unique. I’m halting ingenuity and genius. Stopping inspiration. Ending love. Ending the world.

“Someday, Dr. Mensonge, the world will be a much more accepting place. I’m brave. I’ll make them see. I’ll make everyone see.”

Oh god, so naïve, so young, so right. What do I do? What can I do? Tell her about me? No, this is not about me. Show her my journal? My work? My pain? “The world is far too big for you to change, Emma. You’re a child. You’re a female. Add gay to the list and you’re a target for the unjust.”

“Then let the unjust come. I will not conceal who I am to protect myself. I’d rather hurt myself. That is hurting myself.”

How do I lie? Tell her she’s wrong? She’s wiser than everyone. She’s stronger than I am. Maybe she can make it. Maybe she can help. Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe she’ll fail. She’s wrong. She’ll fail. “You will be hurt.”

“I don’t care.”

“Emma, they will fabricate a charge and send you to prison. If you don’t want to go to prison, they will make you check into a psychiatric care facility on a “voluntary” basis until you are “cured” of your homosexuality. Electroshock therapy. Oh god, the pain. Do you understand what I am telling you, Emma?”

“You’re telling me to lie?”

I’m telling you to live.

I Belong in That Book

Dr. Mensonge, did you hear me?”

Why is there a ringing in my ears? Oh god, what do I say? What do I do? “Why do you classify yourself as homosexual, Emma?”

“Because I have been in love with my best friend, Madison, for over five years.”

In love with her best friend. Madison. Madison. I cannot believe this is happening. What do I tell her, to be strong? To hide? Safety comes with the unconcealed. She must not tell a soul. “Have you told Madison this?”

“No, I haven’t had the nerve to be completely honest. But I plan to. I believe she feels the same.”

I must not allow her to make herself vulnerable. If she tells, they’ll report her. Madison, have I heard of Madison? Is she in her book? Is she beautiful? Does she smell to this child like lust? Does she make her breath stop? She’s so young, so in love. I must save her. “Is Madison in your book, Emma?”

“Yes, I’ve written about her. I have other things as well. Things that make me worry. Things I have to hide. Pictures, quotes, books, songs. Myself.”

She must realize this is dangerous, or she wouldn’t go through the trouble of concealing herself. Switch the subject. Make her forget. Dissuade her. “Why don’t you tell me about the things in your book.” I belong in that book.

Riotous Report

Ignorance is Bliss

“Live and lie.”

“Live without pain. Without the constant struggle for anonymity, for obscurity, for privacy.” Ignorance is bliss, Emma. Why can’t you see?

“Are you going to report me? Tell my parents? Make them send me away?”

“Is that what you want, Emma?” Please don’t make me.

“Well obviously not.”

Hide it then. Tuck it away forever. In your mind. In your book. Just hide yourself. “If you promise me you will save yourself torment, ridicule, and a lifetime of pain by not concealing your sexuality, then I won’t.” Promise me. Free me.

“I can’t promise you that.”

“Emma…” God, oh why god. What can I say? Do I disclose my secret? Show her my pain. Show her my pain and set her free.

“Dr. Mensonge, you cannot possibly expect me to hide my love for others for the rest of my life. That is truly unnatural.”

Perfectly natural today. Perfectly natural for me. “It truly is your choice, my dear. Stay hidden and be safe. Or let the truth ruin you.”

“How do you know so much about this? What aren’t you telling?”

She knows. Dear god, she knows. What to tell, what to hide. What to feel, what to say. “We’re not so different, you and I, Emma.”

“…What do you mean?”

My heart, it must be coming out of my chest. I’m sweating. I’m running. I’m falling.

“Dr. Mensonge, your next patient is waiting.”

Thank god. “Well I’m sorry, Emma, I’m afraid that’s all the time we have for the day. But please, I do beseech you, think long and hard of what I’ve said. Make the right choice. You’re a smart girl. I wouldn’t want any of your positive traits to go unnoticed.” Shadowed by something darker, danker, more sinister. Something natural, wonderful, beautiful. Something you are, I am. Love. Something like love.

“Dr. Mensonge, are you?”

Am I? “Goodbye, dear.” Yes.

Case File 1406

“Case File 1406. 18 year old female, Emma Cache. Referred to services by parents noticing overanxious tendencies. Patient is exceptionally bright, highly organized, and successfully integrated into social system. Initial diagnosis: generalized anxiety disorder.”

Wonderful girl. Where did she want to go to school? Ah yes, NYU. She’ll get there too. Pulling in perfect grades, and remarkably beautiful to boot. She’s just got worries. But then again, we all have worries. I have worries. I’m worried about her. She’s been pulling back. She’s trying to tell me something. But what it could be I have no…

“Excuse me, Dr. Mensonge? Miss, Cache is here to see you now.”

“Perfect, send her right in.”

There she is. She looks wonderful today, as usual. Is she hiding something behind her back? No, not hiding just holding. What is she carrying? “Emma, so lovely to see you again. Please, take a seat.”

“Hello, Dr. Mensonge. I brought my journal today, I hope you don’t mind. There’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you…”

Ah, that’s the book she’s carrying. “Absolutely, dear. Why don’t you begin today.”

“Alright, well you know how you suggested I keep a journal to write down my thoughts and fears and worries?”

Looks like a full book. “Yes, dear. Have you been doing that?”

“Well yes. I’ve been keeping a journal for the past couple of months, and you’re right, it’s helped me realize that some of my fears are rather ridiculous. But some of the things I’ve been keeping track of have me even more worried than when I began.”

That’s the world. Some of us should be worried. Some of us are forced to hide. “Well I’m glad it’s helping on some level, Emma. But what has you nervous?” What did she just get out of her book? It’s a newspaper article. Oh god, it’s shaking in my hands. Is this what she’s trying to tell me? Oh please, please, let this not be her secret, the cause of all the problems in her life. Let this end only one life in the room.

“Have you heard of the Stonewall Riots, Dr. Mensonge?”

Heard of them? I have friends injured in the raid. I’ve felt the pain from their cuts, carry the bruises of their blows. How the law can justify the embarrassment and emotional scarring of nearly 200 innocent victims is beyond my comprehension. As a medical professional and simple human being. “No, I’m afraid not. Why don’t you tell me about it?”

“A couple of weeks ago, in late June, the police in Greenwich Villiage, New York raided a bar in the Stonewall Inn.”

Part of the New York State Liquor Authority movement was their excuse I think. Those pigs, there is no excuse for this.

“It was a gay club. And when the police went in to arrest those inside, the people fought back. They actually fought back! They mobbed the police who were harassing them. They threw things at them. They stood up for themselves.”

They exercised their rights as human beings. “This is all very interesting, Emma. But what does this have to do with you? Why are you worried?” Oh god, she’s so naïve.

“Well you know I’m applying to NYU for this next fall.”

Please just want a nicer neighborhood. Don’t let it be this.

“And you know that this happened within the gay community, and it keeps happening daily.”

Oh god. Why is my heart racing? I’m sweating. Don’t be trapped. Make her see.

“Dr. Mensonge, there’s something I need to tell you.”

Please, please. No. I can’t help you. I can’t help anyone. “Go ahead, dear. You can tell me anything.” She’s so beautiful. Such a bright future. Don’t throw it away.

“Dr. Mensonge. I’m gay.”

Her life has just ended.

Aversion Therapy

“Treatments of Homosexuality Since the 1950s—An Oral History: The Experience of Patients

Treatments:

The most common treatment (from the early 1960s to early 1970s) was behavioral aversion therapy with electric shocks. Nausea was induced by apomorphine as the aversive stimulus was reported less often.

In electric shock aversion therapy, electrodes were attached to the wrist or lower leg and shocks were administered while the patient watched photographs of men and women in various stages of undress. The aim was to encourage avoidance of the shock by moving to photographs of the opposite sex. It was hoped that arousal to same sex photographs would reduce, while relief arising from shock avoidance would increase, interest in opposite sex images.”

The Path

“Don’t follow where the path may lead. Go instead where there is no path, and leave a trail.”

- Ralph Waldo Emerson

Happy Endings

To whom it may concern,

When I was a child, I was a memory keeper. I saved everything—newspaper clippings, letters from friends and family, old birthday cards, song lyrics I had written, quotes of my angst, lyrics that moved me, advertisements, lists, names, myself, everything. I believed that if I wrote everything down, cut it out, glued it, saved it, it would never be lost. People can be lost. Moments can be lost. Memories can last for a lifetime. Forever.

I knew I was gay for a long time. Not since birth like some people claim, but for a few years, at least since I was a freshman in high school. I remember wondering if I should come out to my parents. I remember not wanting to, coming out to my best friends instead. They encouraged me. They told me to be strong. They continued to love me.

When I came out to my parents they handled it in a slightly different way. They encouraged me. They told me to be strong. They continued to love me. They told me never to tell a single soul on my father’s side of the family. “You’re going to face some obstacles there, Jessica,” they told me. “They won’t accept you. They’re staunch in their ways.” “But I’m their niece,” I claimed. “Their cousin, their friend.” My parents’ response: “Belief is thicker than blood.”

I locked myself in my room that night. I felt loved and betrayed. Ecstatic and discouraged. Liberated and tightly bonded. Strong yet incredibly weak as well. In the end I do what I always do in moments of distress, moments where I wonder if life is worth the struggle, if happy endings ever do exist. I played a song.  I played a song and I tucked it away as any memory keeper would. These are the lyrics, my thoughts and my troubles. These are the lines of my hopes and desires. It represents my inner struggles, my need for acceptance, my longing for companionship and understanding.

These lyrics, tucked in this letter, will be saved for me to look back on. For those moments when I wonder if life is worth the struggle, for we know it always is, and when we wonder if happy endings ever do exist, for we know they do. My struggle may be great, but I will reach my happy ending. Dignity, honesty, and integrity intact.

“Iris”

By Goo Goo Dolls:

(chorus)

And I don’t want the world to see me,

‘Cause I don’t think that they’d understand.

When everything’s made to be broken,

I just want you to know who I am.

Sincerely,

Jessica Brousseau

Project Proposal: Expressing Identity Confusion and the Apprehension of its Disclosure

Part I:

1.) What specific experience will you undertake the task of, and take responsibility for, expressing? What is the concrete historical context?

I believe I want to express the experience of confusion and apprehension that accompanies a child while “coming out”—publically expressing their sexual preference—to those around them (friends, parents, family, and strangers).

A. Historically, I want this expression to take place in the late twentieth to early twenty-first century. An era in which homosexuality is widely accepted, although still highly debated. (Vermont’s 1999 same-sex benefits, Hawaii’s ruling against same-sex marriage in 1999, Canada’s same-sex benefits Supreme Court ruling in 1999, Quebec and Ontario recognition of same-sex marriages in 2002-03, Mass. Gay-Marriage legalization in 2003. According to A Decade of Violence: Hate Crimes Based on Sexual Orientation, 13,798 reported hate related incidents have occurred based on sexual orientation in the US from 1993-1998). I would also like this expression to take place in a Southern state where “old South” traditionalism would antagonize the situation.

B. This expression will explore the realm of identity discovery, and the controversial issue of sexuality. This issue can be tied to various other degrees in the “matrix” of  life, including religion as well as family dynamics.

2.) “Explanation” or “account” of this experience from a conventional view? What is the dominant understanding?

In the very recent era, there have been several key events that can add an understanding of this experience. Although homosexuality is now more widely accepted than in the past, the reversal of several key Supreme Court decisions giving gay rights widespread validity has brought the issue to the forefront of the media and the lives of homosexual/confused/experimenting individuals within the US, primarily those of a young age striving to understand their identity themselves. It is the dominant understanding in modern society that homosexuality is not a “violent” issue, however, it causes vast emotional struggles between said individuals and those around them.

Source: Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy, Homosexuality, http://plato.stanford.edu/entries/homosexuality/

3.) Personal resonance for you in the present?

Being a homosexual female in the modern era who disclosed her sexual preference to her parents a mere two years ago, I feel I have an extremely strong sense of familiarity with this subject. My own personal struggles with family, friends, and the public in general  in regards to my lifestyle will be instrumental in constructing the expression of the experience of my imagined protagonist. Because this topic is so controversial and there is no “correct” or even “usual” response across the public, it allows for great creativity as well.

4.) One cultural narrative or image that is prominent in your memory?

One of the most disturbing depictions of homosexual hatred and identity confusion I have ever seen was in the form of Boys Don’t Cry (1999), a movie starred in by Hilary Swank and directed by Kimberly Pierce that expresses the experience of Brandon Teena, a transgendered teen who was brutally raped and murdered by two “friends” upon their discovery of his lifestyle choice.

I viewed this film approximately a year after I came out to my parents, a phase in which I was very interested in exploring my lifestyle choice on a broader level. Although I obviously encountered nowhere near the amount of resistance depicted in this account, it made me realize how blessed I was for the support of those around me, and instilled in me a sense of empathy for those who cannot be open with themselves because of those around them, as well as a need to help those individuals.

5.) One “forgotten” (overlooked, neglected) aspect or element?

This topic has been so greatly explored in modern popular culture (literature, cinema, etc), that I believe almost all aspects of the issue have been depicted in one way or another. I’m sure this answer will come to me upon further thought.

6.) One lesson (abstract) and one technique (specific) from one of our relay novels, that you will implement?

I believe one of the most useful lessons I will implement in regards to the expression of my proposed experience can be witnessed in Silko’s “Ceremony”, allowing us as readers to understand that cultural background (belief, religion, family) is an instrumental and influential feature in the manner in which we shape and grade our actions.

Perhaps I will use intertwining literature from various sources while expressing this experience to bolster the emotions felt and understood by my protagonist. (song lyrics, poems, literary quotes, etc.)

7.) A potential interface? A potential figure? (expressively)

I believe a cultural interface would be most useful when constructing my expression. Perhaps my figure will be musically or literarily inclined (such as myself), and I will be permitted to use allusions and citations from a myriad number of sources to reinforce the experience.

Part II:

“Pain. I seem to have an affection, a kind of sweettooth for it. Bolts of lightning, little rivulets of thunder. And I the eye of the storm.” (Jazz, Toni Morrison)

“And I don’t want the world to see me, ‘cause I don’t think that they’d understand. When everything’s made to be broken, I just want you to know who I am.” (Iris, Goo Goo Dolls)

This song quote expresses the feeling of hopelessness felt by someone who believes he/she is not understood by those around them. It also expresses a sense of desire for identity, “soulful”, personal understanding by one person around them, the “you” in reference.