The trouble with normal a poem

 

The trouble with normal

A world designed for the ordinary, the common thread, 

Leaves me longing for a place where I'm not misread. 

In solitude's embrace, I often dwell, 

Aching for the stories that my heart could tell

To not be normal means to be judged,

To be misunderstood, to be begrudged.

To be hurt, and hurt others just to belong

It's all a constant reminder of what is wrong.

The trouble with normal is it stifles our art, 

Suppressing the passions that burn in our heart. 

It seeks to mold us into lifeless clones, 

But it's in our quirks that true beauty is shown.

The path less traveled can be a lonely road, 

With jagged edges where dreams erode. 

Yet, in my difference, there's a strength I find, 

A unique perspective, an open mind.

Though it's lonely and sad to not be the norm, 

I'll weather the storm, my spirit will transform. 

For in embracing my true self, I'll see, 

The beauty in being authentically me.

Loneliness may visit, sadness may persist, 

But I'll carve my own path, where my heart insists. 

For in the tapestry of life, we all play a part, 

And it's in our uniqueness that we find our art.

       - Fatima Valdivia

 Nonconforming

So, I created this painting to symbolize a refusal to conform. In art, and in the world, use of color can create lots of meaning. A lot of people see the world in black and white only; especially in regard to the queer community, they refuse to see outside of that frame. This is acrylic on a 16"x20" canvas, using black, grey, and red on the white canvas to show a variety of emotion. I use red for symbolic purposes a lot in my work. For me it symbolizes many things but especially rage, anger, shame, change, and power. These are all emotions that the queer community probably experience on a regular basis. I am usually very controlled and meticulous in my work, but for this one I just went at it with complete abstraction. It is titled "Nonconforming" and I hope you like it. 

Audrea Cooper

What's Wrong with Normal

Normal

What is it? Merriam-Webster's first definition for normal is "conforming to a type, standard, or regular pattern: characterized by that which is considered usual, typical, or routine" (Merriam-Webster). 

Why is it that Merriam-Webster can put a definition to this word? One could easily go down a rabbit hole researching terms that are a part of "normal" definition. For example, what is standard, regular, typical, or usual?

It is my firm belief that "normal" is in fact not normal. My normal is different than someone else's whose normal is still different from someone else's. It is an endless cycle of not normal.

It all depends on our perspectives and perceptions. A prime example of different normals are the differences in deaf people's lives and hearing people's lives. A hearing person considers hearing music, conversations, and talking normal. They ask deaf people what it's like not being normal and not being able to hear. Deaf people respond simply that being deaf is normal to them. They consider normal to be silence, different kinds of conversations, and signing. They could ask hearing people the same question, why aren't you normal and sign like us?

Again, normal isn't a standard that everybody has to follow. Everyone's daily routine and pattern is different, my typical is different from yours, and standards shouldn't be a thing.

Bright in a World That's Blind

Bright in a World That's Blind- Explore 2

The Trouble with normal

is that it starts as whispers.

A hushed voice in my ear,

telling me how to breathe,

how my heart should beat.

The Trouble with normal

is that its rigid, an iron mold,

a template for my existence

that keeps my stories untold.

The Trouble with normal;

A Land where the binary reigns,

a world that exists in black and white,

where colors die in vain.

in the depths of this Trouble,

we face our darkest fight,

Bright in a world that's blind, 

for freedom isn't free.

~plus the song I made

Grandma's Call and the Rainbow Shawl

 (Based on a true story)

 It was the year 2019. I was in my home country, Sri Lanka, preparing for an outing with my husband. I wore a sleeveless white top with denim trousers. I draped a rainbow-colored shawl over myself. To give my outfit glamour, I wore a necklace with rainbow-colored beats. The outing went smoothly, filled with laughter and shared moments. So, I shared our photos on Facebook. 

But it was a phone call from my grandma that added an unwelcome surprise to this day. She had seen the photos I had posted and reached out to me over the phone.

"Dahara.." she began, "why did you choose to wear that rainbow shawl?”

I responded, "Because I LOVE it. What’s wrong though?"

"People might think you are a supporter of “Bakala” people, so do not wear it again." she uttered.

("Bakala" is used to refer to queer individuals, and discussing queerness in public was once a taboo subject.)

Isn’t my grandmother, the vigilant Panopticon of Michel Foucault?

Am I not the prisoner who trapped in her watchtower?

As I hung up the phone, I was filled with a plethora of thoughts.

Despite it all, one thing remained certain – I wore, wear, am wearing, will wear my beautiful rainbow-colored shawl.

-Dahara de Silva-

 

 

Breaking the Cycle

 

Breaking the Cycle

You came into my world

They swaddled you in pink

They sent me home to nurture you

And raise you to be a proper young lady

I did not question the directions

Because they were so plainly laid out before me

As they were for my mother and for her mother before

You were different, but I didn't know

You didn't fit inside the box society put you in

You tried to adapt by cutting bits and pieces of yourself

Until you were paper thin

One day you grew strong and pushed beyond

The voices that told you who to be and how to act

You spit in their faces

You put them in their places

I can only stand in awe and look at you with pride

Not pride for the way you were raised 

But with pride because you did not give in the way that I did

Never conforming, always affirming

Feet planted firmly in the ground

The cycle is broken

Buried Deep

This is a story about a boy.

We begin with his early years, simple, uncomplicated, and quaint. The boy grew up in what's considered a normal household. He has a mother, a father, two older sisters, and an older brother. He felt he had a good life. Loving family, friends at school, good grades, and successful in his extracurriculars. He felt happy, but not satisfied.

As he got older, he continued his successful scholastic career, but he still felt something was missing. Compared to his older siblings, he didn't have anyone close to share his happiness with. He realized that what he desired was sometime to spoil, someone to cry to, someone to cherish, someone to love. 

He had grown up listening to stories from his father and older brother about their romantic endeavors. He remembered the details of how his brother and father would flirt with ladies and make advances towards them. He made his attempts towards the women of his age, but had no success. He tried and tried, and continued to fail and fail.

He was in his first year of college, and still, had no success in finding a woman to love. He sat down with his father, confused and frustrated because he felt like a failure compared to the rest of his family. He asked his father to tell him what he was doing wrong, how to approach women. His father told the tale of how he and his mother came to be; told with such feeling and passion that his father got emotional telling it.

The boy realized as he listened, he had felt nothing. Despite the beautiful tale his father told, he felt no passion. He thought back to a time when he was playing football in high school, and all the cheerleaders were screaming his praise, many of which tried getting more than just his attention. He remembered being flattered, but not interested in any of the cheerleaders, but instead he felt drawn to a boy who was a fellow classmate. He felt ecstatic that this boy was noticing his abilities. He thought back to other times where he was surrounded by women, but had no interest.

He realized that his feelings towards men have been buried so deep inside. He was trying to impress his father by finding the greatest girl so he buried his feelings so deep that he hadn't realized what they really were. He told his mother that he realized he didn't like women and that he was gay, afraid of what she might say. Despite his fears, she graciously accepted him and give him her full support.

After telling his siblings as well, he began to feel a weight lifted from his shoulders. His feelings that were buried so deep, finally came bubbling to the surface that he broke down in tears in his brother's arms. His brother simply embraced him and whispered "I've known who you are all along. You don't need to bury anything any longer." 

After the heartwarming moments between him and his siblings, he prepared to tell his father. Once again, he feared the response of his parent who had raised him to be a different person. The fear of disappointment and loathing overwhelmed him so much, that he buried his feelings deep down once more, not telling his father anything.

Years passed, and because of his fear of the truth, he and his father grew apart. The boy had grown up, gotten a job, a house, and a boyfriend. He had built himself a good life, but buried deep, were the feeling's of secrecy and loss. 

He was living with his boyfriend, when he got a call from his mother asking him to come for a family dinner. It would be the first time in years that all four siblings were together with their parents. The boy agreed to come. His mother was overjoyed, and made sure to tell him he could bring anybody he liked.

The boy arrived at his parents' with his boyfriend, and he walked into the house. His father was at the door greeting his siblings, when he looked up and saw him. His father teared up and embraced him in a deep hug, of which he teared up and embraced him back. After the emotional moment, he looked his father in the eyes, reached back, and grabbed his boyfriends hand and pulled him forward to meet him. Without breaking eye-contact with his father, he told him who he is and the truth, again, feeling a large weight lifted from is chest. His father listened, looked at his boyfriend, looked at him, and smiled. "Son, I will love you no matter what. I know you are the same boy a raised." With joy, he embraced his father crying. He finally had everything he ever desired.

Rachel Merchant Queer Theory 2023

Queer Haiku

 

Boxes left unchecked

A noun, verb, identity

It’s all, and nothing 

 

Katie Harmon (she/her), Queer Theory, Fall 2023

Dancing in Queer Land

Behold beyond the norm

Where borders blur

Deconstructing norming

Breaking power constructing

Purging policing

Shattering stereotyping 

With the hope of having 

A new realm of queer land

Full of colors of diversity

With a rainbow of harmony

Without closeting

Without masking

Without hiding in fear

BUT only dancing freely 

In the queer land’s air!

-Dahara de Silva-