I’ve pondered how to mark this occasion. Most blogs last 2-3 years, so 11 is numerically impressive. We’ve also started the AMPLIFY project archives which is a new direction for us. Then we had a complete blog redesign this year AND were voted Best Local Blog by the Pittsburgh City Paper.
That’s a lot of braggable stuff, right? Hmmm.
I’ve had many fruitful conversations about the art of blogging as well as the inherently political nature of blogging LGBTQ. My current belief is that my blogging falls somewhere in the middle. We need more independent voices and definitely more queer voices, especially those that are not white, cis, and male. We need blogs about personal experiences as well as queer analysis of all of the world events. We need the artists and the activists to offer an unfiltered glimpse into our collective experiences.
Behind the blog is the blogger – in this case, mostly me. Its a symbiotic relationship. Sometimes, I use the blog to work out my own stuff and sometimes the blog becomes something bigger than me. I have no illusions about my greatness as a writer, no grand ambition to write a novel or anything like that. I’m a perfectly adequate writer and I can skew toward good writer when I put my mind to it. I’m not a careful writer.
For me, it is not so much how well I write on this blog as it is about the topics I choose. The blog is a medium for me to address things that matter – to me. As with many adult survivors and adult children of addicts, my life is strewn with temples of ‘do not tell these secrets to anyone’ mantra that pervades dysfunctional families. This blog is my defiant rejection of that admonishment, pulling down those stones one blog post at a time.
It is not surprising that dysfunctional institutions like political parties and vulnerable communities like my own LGBTQ are also plagued by the ‘do not tell the secrets/that of which we do not speak’ mentality. It is both a survival skill and a tool to maintain power, a dangerous combination.
So whether I am tilting with windmills or pointing out that the Emperor has no clothes, I forge onward to the beat of my own drum <insert additional cliches as warranted.>
There are many people to thank, but I am ugly sick with a sinus infection so I’ll save that for another post and go drink some tea.
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