What is Normal?

Sheri Paulson

The dictionary describes normal as

conforming to the standard or the common type; usual; not abnormal; regular; natural.

serving to establish a standard.

Psychology.

1. approximately average in any psychological trait, as intelligence, personality, or emotional adjustment.
2. free from any mental disorder; sane.

 

 

Who decides what normal is?

 Deciding what is normal is usually based on statistics. A large group of people are tested, and normal is the result 95% of those people show. The number of people that are tested and who these people are will affect the results, so careful consideration needs to be given to these issues. (Who decides what is normal? — Science Learning Hub)

This doesn’t seem right. Where does this large group of people come from?

 

Normal is what society wants us to be, because a large group of people got together, and their set of values placed on a bell curve said that this is what is normal.  What this large group of people fail to capture is the variation in all of us.  Our bodies are all different. What is normal tall and skinny, with blonde hair and blue eyes?  Is it because that is what they truly believe that our bodies should look like or what they want us to look like? How about the way we behave? Is being quiet and shy normal or being outgoing? How about loud and obnoxious? What behavior is normal, and is that normal for every situation you’re in?  Normal changes with the situation, don’t it? Do we show others our true normal side?  I don’t unless I trust you. The thing is, we all put on the “face of normal” because, truth be told that I think that being “abnormal is normal,” diversity is normal, not fitting into the box is normal, and being yourself is normal.  The picture of normality that society places on us is not how most people are.  It’s like we are playing a part in a play, puppets on a string, playing the role that a large group of people told us we must play.  We are conforming to a standard that society has placed on us. We have no say in what role we want to play. For us to be happy and be ourselves, we need to break the mold that they have put on us, break out of the box, and show the large group of people and society that being normal is being a diverse people with differences in bodies, minds, and perceptions and that being normal is being who we are with nothing holding us to the standards that society has placed on us. Dare to step out of the box and be abnormal, and you will find that there is a larger group that are abnormal too.

The day that death came

  The day death came 

***an ode to who we were 

The air was calm and still a cool

The day death came 

The machines in the next room sang a song and it came true,

The day that death came 

We said our goodbyes with hate in our voices 

The day that death came 

Our disdain for each other got the best of our choices

The day that death came 

We honored you the best we could

The day that death came 

We led you to the angels like we should 

The day that death came 

The graveyards were already full

The day that death came 

With all the bodies of who we used to be

The day that death came 

I stepped into heaven on butterflies bloodied ashes,

The day that death came

My feet were cleansed by all the tears shed

The day that death came 

By all the people I used to be

The day that death came 

On Being Queer

I'm a nineteen-year-old gender-non-conforming queer drag queen. 

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What a mouthful.

 

Can you believe it all started with drag? I think that the moment I put on my first wig and extravagant makeup was the first time I realized how much of show femininity was for me. 

My mind was always torn, I only knew the binaries, never the in-between.

And when I found that in between? Lord, I rejected it so fast.

I wanted to be normal, respected, and looked up to by people and I knew that the moment I started being myself it was all over. 

Wait, myself?

At that age, I didn't even know what that meant let alone who I was. I was a sentient mirror walking around practically begging others for validation in mimicking their plights.

I found myself, came to myself crying late one November evening only to be met with that awful realization once again that I was queer. 

It was such a hard pill to swallow, made harder by the looming eyes and chattering tongues of the community around me. 

Their mouths grew quiet when I left.

I found myself, found them on a stage. Found them in a wig and feminine getup, with the freedom to take it off at the end of the day. Found them in loving whoever they chose. Found them, in me.

I'm a nineteen-year-old gender-non-conforming queer drag queen. 

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And I love it.

Stained-Glass

 Hello everyone, the following photos are some of the stained-glass projects I’ve completed. I have created these as commissions, gifts, and as personal projects. If you want to know a little about me, I’m a junior at UW majoring in psychology and working towards two minors, painting and sociology. As for the stained-glass pieces, the first two are quite straightforward but the last one has a story connected to it.

Ally Flag: I created this ally flag as a commission in 2020.

 

LGBTQIA+ Flag: I made this one for myself and am currently making another one as a commission.

 

Unicorn:

I created this stained-glass unicorn during the lockdown in 2020, I was a senior in high school and decided to create gifts for some of the teachers who had supported me the most. This one in particular was a gift for the art teacher. For some context, the small town I grew up in is very conservative, anti-LGBTQIA+, racist, sexist, and so forth. Queer people in this town often struggled. A few people were kicked out of their homes once their family found out and/or were physically beaten. Of course, this wasn’t true for most people, but this happened to some of my friends and classmates.

There were subtle (and not so subtle) signs of welcome in safe places such as homes, classrooms, therapy offices, businesses, and more. I got the idea for this unicorn from my mother. She is a mental health therapist and has subtle rainbow decorations in her office to let people know she’s an ally to the LGBTQIA+ community. This has helped several of her clients. I made a unicorn because at the time unicorns were a running joke in the art classroom, so it blended in nicely. I added a rainbow horn so LGBTQIA+ students would know this was a safe place for them and that they could talk to the teacher if they had any issues with bullying, homelife, etc. I really hoped this would help students.

Unfortunately, after I graduated from high school, the art teacher wasn’t as supportive as he had been in previous years, especially to transgender students. Students started trashing other teachers ally symbols and flags, posters, etc. They were promoting “super straight” and bullying students who didn’t agree. Some teachers left, some tried to support LGBTQIA+ students, and some teachers didn’t do anything, and the art teacher was one of them. His classroom was no longer a safe place. I was really disappointed when I heard about this, it felt like a betrayal.

Part of me wanted to remove the last paragraph because it doesn’t end on a happy note. But unfortunately, it’s the truth. Luckily, he doesn’t have the unicorn hanging in his classroom anymore, so at least students looking for a safe space won’t seek help in his classroom.

If anyone is interested in more of my artworks or would like a commission (coming soon) then visit my Instagram page @artsy_hannahwyos. Thank you for reading 😊.

I Was Told

I was told by society as a child I could be anything. That with enough effort, anything was achievable.

I was told by my parents that I would not succeed. That my effort and hard work would be wasted.

I was told by society I had the freedom to be what I wanted. That with my grades, I could succeed.

I was told by my parents that I was too stupid to even have a favorite color. That my sister was far smarter and would be the one destined for college.

I was told by my family that my time would be better spent being the help. That being a live-in nanny and handy person would be a better suited role for me.

I was told by society that I had a learning disability that given treatment would be manageable. That my attention was not focused and required special attention.

I was told by my parents that it was not true. That my attention deficit was caused by lack of effort and a need for discipline.

I was told by a coworker that I was brave. For shaving my head, before changing my name.

I was told by society that my preference and gender was wrong. That God does not make mistakes and that I should try to be normal.

I was told by my parents that I was not the child they wished or hoped for. That I was hatched from an egg and therefore unnatural.

I was told by my manager that I was legally accepted for who I am. That I could transition with full support. But was then designated to a lower position in the hopes of throwing me away.

I was told that I was not allowed to complain. That I should be grateful for the learning opportunity and promise of growth.

I was told by my supervisor that my anxiety was all in my head. That I was allowing little things to cling and was overreacting.

I was told by my manager that I was not cut out for a leadership role. That my attitude lacked confidence.

I was told by society that I was a predator for being what I am. That my mere presence in a bathroom was me living perversely.

I was told by my sister that I was a danger. That her kids were not allowed to interact with me when I started my transition.

I was told by my therapist that I should feel comfortable. That my mental state is not an illness.

I was told by my mother that she would never acknowledge my name. That it was not for me as this is not my reality.

We were told that we could be anything. But they are angry that we have chosen not to limit ourselves within their labels.

Humans tend to try to fit everything into boxes with labels. Anything outside those boxes tend to be shunned and discarded as defective and unwanted. Acceptance is conditional, requiring prerequisites to be met for the effort to be there.

I sit here, knowing that the world is harsh. I sit and dream of a place that does not exist, because that is an escape. I dream of a place where we could truly be anything we wanted. To have that society that truly does believe in the rhetoric of we could be anything we wanted. Or to show what we truly are without the persecution.

I sit here, fully knowing that I am being manipulated by both my sister and my mother, so they have an easier life, while I struggle to survive. I live in a house paid for by my job, wishing that my unwanted and ungrateful tenants would pay their share. Because I was told it would be different. This time it would work.

What Queer Means to Me

 What Queer Means to Me

By Sheri Paulson

 

 

                Queer means my bisexual daughter-in-law who brought my son out of his depression and dark days back to his fun, silly, naughty, and playful self.  I am forever grateful that she is my daughter-in-law and that she loves my son and saved him and brought him back to himself.

                                Queer means my nephew and niece’s children Shaelie who goes by Lee and her pronouns are she/her/he/him, and Drew who’s pronouns are them/they.  I admire not only my nephew and niece for showing their children unconditional love and educating themselves about the LGBTIQ community, but also admire Lee and Drew for being themselves.  In a world that is unkind these teenagers are so courageous and strong, much stronger than I could be.  What a great support system their parents have been.

                Queer means my friend Bill who after 36 years of marriage and three children (who are all adults and have families of their own) announced that he is gay and wants to live the rest of his life being happy and not hiding behind what he thought he had to be to please those around him. Bill is the kindest man with a huge heart. While this decision was hard on his family they all are working on keeping the lines of communication open, and continue to get together to celebrate the holidays and birthdays as a family. Even though Bill has divorced his wife and moved out of the home that they built together Bill and his ex-wife remain cordial. This has shown me that acceptance, love, patience, and honesty will hold a family bond together even when the family is broken.

Queer means my cousin’s son Dalton who was being harassed in the town that they lived in so the family packed up and moved to a community where he would be more accepted. What a selfless act this family made to put Dalton’s wellbeing above their own.

Queer means Santi Murillo.  I do not know Santi but my daughter cheered with her for the University of Wyoming.  I watched Santi change from her first year cheering dressed as the boys did to making her change onto the all-girl squad.  After my daughter graduated and we went back for a game, I was in AWE of how beautiful and confident Santi looked.  I was happy to know that the coaches could see that she was unhappy and talked with her.  I really admire Santi and the determination she had in high school and college to be herself.

Queer means me. I dislike sex.  I never really have and it has been at the center of most of my marital fights. I have been married 34 years and have been blessed with three amazing children.  I performed my “wifely duty” because that is what I am supposed to do or so I thought.  I prayed for years that my husband would lose his sex drive and at 57 years old he is starting to.  I have been accused of cheating because if I am not wanting sex with my husband I must be getting it from somewhere else.  Nope not interested in sex with anyone. I have struggled with being “not normal” but I am learning I am not alone.

Being Queer has several meanings strange, odd, gay, homosexual, lesbian, to spoil, or ruin. What I have learned about being Queer is taking control of who you are and accepting your queerness.  I love that the word Queer was taken back.  Taken from being a derogatory term to one that is an umbrella term where people can gather under the umbrella and are able to be themselves.

 

Honey

Put on smiles, dance with your uncles,

Even when you feel your heart,

Crawling into your throat.

Clinging onto hope,

With bare white knuckles. 

Clenched teeth as lies flow through your lips.

Bite your tongue before,

Like honey,

The truth drips. 

And like honey,

The truth will stick.

Painting you with the scent of sweet sugars.

Attracting the smallest of predators.

Sneaking into your garden and home,

Coming inside to freely roam.

Trickling...

Trickling...

Trickling...

Infesting your floorboards,

Cracking your foundation.

Caving in the roof.

The house collapses,

The honey is the only proof.

They blame the sweet truth.

Truth...

Truth...

Truth...

They point their fingers at the honey-dipped words,

But they refuse to look at the predators. 

It is in their nature to go that way,

They say.

The honey should not have existed. 

It should have been cleaned up and hidden.

It should have remained behind clenched teeth,

Within glass jars in dark cupboards.

The predators will always exist,

As does the honey within the cupboards. 

The honey should not apologize,

In its purest form of truth. 

The honey deserves to sit in the sun,

Soak into its own floorboards.

Glisten brightly without fear,

Allowing the honey to exist here,

And rebuild the destroyed house

Into a home.