Chapter Fourteen: Majora Unmasked

The moon ain't crashing down, but my walls are.

Tame Impala’s “Love/Paranoia” plays in the background.

Note: I’m trying very hard to stop giving a disclaimer for my words, so I will do a final, blanket disclaimer for all my content going forward. I am in a very emotional space where I am sharing special and often hidden parts of myself and doing so in a way that makes me feel vulnerable, so please know that my content may feel disjointed or all over the place, but I want this space— Cheyenne’s World— to be a safe(r) opportunity to divest from the stringent expectations regarding how I need to show up that are put on me— mostly by myself but others too.

Sharing my whole experience is a sacred and outright act of defiance, an integral part of reclaiming my humanity in a world that ceaselessly seeks to destroy it.

________________________________________________________________________

“You’re so excited, and I know this because you’re shaking your leg.”

They caress my cheek and kiss my forehead while we immerse ourselves in the crooning of one of our many collaborative playlists. I blush and scrunch up my nose in slight embarrassment. Although a big part of getting to know my sweetheart has been them telling me how they adore all the quirky things I do, I often feel a sense of embarrassment, surprise, and even slight discomfort every time they name these things.

In truth, it’s so weird to engage with someone who notices the little things about me. I’m used to the comments and compliments on my body, my voice, my words, my work, and the like, but despite being truthful all these things are pretty surface-level observations, especially when these are the only things that are being mentioned about me.

To take it a step further a lot of my (pseudo) romantic and sexual relationships have been a bit surface-level, IMO. There wasn’t a lot of room for me to explore myself, the other parties involved, or even for them to explore me, being that my humanity was not something that was being considered nor cared for in these experiences.

As a fat, Black, queer person, I’m very familiar with being in a position where I’m often reminded that I am to be hidden— both physically and emotionally— used as a comfort, a masturbatory object, and entertainment, only to be left behind at the crossroads of shame, white supremacy and a shit ton of emotional bullshit in the form of IOUs, deceptive and dismissive texts, and, inevitably, ghosting.

But masking myself isn’t just limited to dating or sex— it’s pretty much an art of survival for people who exist on the margins far from social approval but constantly being dangled above the hells and perils of systemic oppression. For 29 almost 30 years of my life, I’ve been constantly trying to find ways to remain stoic, “tough”, and guarded, using my anger as a buffer against any antagonizers, both true and perceived, that threatened my peace.

But what happens when that anger also serves as a security dog that wards off your emotions, quirks, and stims? When is it finally okay to take a step back, recognize that that angry dog is really a sad, isolated puppy who wants to be loved as they are, and allow the nuances of their existence to shine?

So when I’m in these moments with this person, and I am being caught red-handed in unmasking, whether it be grasping the cuffs of my sleeves and flailing my arms to ground myself, or doing random COGIC/gospel hums to gather my thoughts, or even squealing and shaking my leg when I have fifty-leven kisses being planted all over my face or receiving gifts of my special interests, I often feel silly, unworthy, and inadequate because I am currently unpacking a lifetime of questioning the ability to create, experience, and receive happiness, care, and love that isn’t attached to this idea of changing or shrinking myself for others.

But what’s so beautiful is that this person constantly reminds me how great and adorable, and not just in the “cute” sense, but also in the primary sense of something worthy of being adored, and they also feel safe enough to unmask with me too, which is truly an honor and treat and makes me feel more apt and open to letting more of my guards down.

I also want to take a moment to highlight how this connection is not only making me grow as a person but also showing the amount of work I’ve done on myself. The fact that I am even taking the time to share with y’all some deeply personal shit and even articulate my feelings is a testament to how far I’ve come, and I’m truly thankful for my loved ones and community in supporting me in getting here.

I’m not perfect, and I still find myself trying to retreat into my shell when I feel a bit embarrassed about exposing myself.

But my nigga, what courage it takes to unmask in a world that’s perpetually on fire.

Despite all the horrors of financial strife, and trying to be gainfully and easefully employed in a shitty job market, I am still very full of love— overwhelmed, even. On Valentine’s Day, I spoke at the Radical Love Conference held by the Marcon Institute at Lehigh University, and I was so overwhelmed with love and just everything that I cried at the beginning of my talk, and I cried because as I was in the process of answering the question of “how did you get here?” (which btwz is a question that REALLY gets to me because it challenges you to think about the various phases of your life) and I realized how much grief, suffering, and loss I experienced in getting here, but I also took that time to acknowledge how there were and are people in my life and rams in the bushes alongside the mountains I’ve climbed that have helped and continue to help me on my journey, and for that I am immensely grateful.

That gratitude, along with the notion that I was called to do the work I enjoy doing— such as speaking to the public— really made me emotional, and my tears were received with such care.

I hope to continue doing this type of work where I am doing more paid speaking engagements. I currently have an ask here to help me in procuring more of these opportunities. I’ll also post a screenshot of it for those of y’all who don’t have/wanna get on LinkedIn so that you can share it as needed.

As always, the horrors persist, but as @itstatyg says “my ass is fat, and my aura is threatening.”

TLDR: By hook or by muthafucking crook, I’m still here, nigga, and I got a lot of love, memories, and impact left to make. Til next time.