How I Learned to Embrace Myself

It's done. It's published, and I'll give you a free excerpt:

Without Fear…

Without fear there can be no courage. I finally saw Brokeback Mountain in February 2009. I saw about half before I went to church and rehearsal, and half before I went to bed that night. The first lovemaking scene looked more like rape, but most of the rest of the movie was very tender. At rehearsal, when I read part of my lines about living with horrendous violence, my friend told me it was about the brutal murder of Private Barry Winchell in the Calpernia Addams
story told in Soldier's Girl.

The brutal murder scene in Brokeback just tore me up. What the characters and I had in common
is that we live our life in secret, trying to be normal; but unable to stay normal without finding a way to bring the true person out. Their joy was in each other, while mine is just getting out and being free to be female. In both our cases, people could easily pick us out of a crowd during our moments of happiness, and believe that we are not like them. What I don't understand is why some people feel they must beat others who are not like them to death. Is it a combination of instinct and insecurity? I know I honor all living things, but when my daughter complains about a roach that is scaring her, I feel obligated to kill it, even though it is simply observing, swinging
its antennae from side to side. However, I try to make the death as quick as possible so there is no suffering and I feel intense guilt afterward. When I was stung by two wasps on the same day, I was compelled to wipe out their nest, in massive genocide, but again felt horrible for what I had done. But you see, if we all suffer from these instinctual responses, what's to keep some group of...

Hugs and God Bless,
Sophie