Pgh Lesbian Correspondents

Thank you for your donations. You have made it possible for me to get this far. 

Scroll down for a current ask I have, but first I want to talk about the possibility of my being homeless.

On Wednesday, we had another conciliation hearing. The outcome is that the cases go back to the Family Court judge. Our judge is leaving Family Court so we’ll be assigned to someone else (probably.) Hopefully, we’ll get a senior judge since this is complicated, but one well-versed in LGBTQ everything and mental health. I’m not sure how that all works. I hope seniority and experience is good for everyone. 

It was tough today because once again I’m faced with the reality that I will be homeless once the divorce decree is signed. Even in the best case scenario financially (unlikely), I will not be able to afford any housing anywhere and still pay other survival costs.

This is what the crisis of homelessness looks like in early stages. This person you know will not have a place to live through no fault of their own. It is the proverbial slippery slope compounded by marginalized identities – I’m disabled, queer, grew up poor. Some of it is because the government denied us the right to marry, some of it is because we chose not to marry for some years. All of it is because of the erasure of 16 years of our committed relationship. 

If that happens, I won’t be blogging or posting on Instagram or running a pet food pantry.  That would break my heart. Again. Those are losses for me personally, but also the community. And I think that’s true of everyone facing homelessness – there is a genuine loss to all of us when they must exert all of their energy finding shelter and cannot pursue their other gifts or passions.

I am not giving up on myself. I will pursue every avenue, file every appeal I can finance, fight the good fight because there is no one I can count on to save me. There’s no family. There’s no Hallmark movie ending. There’s no real justice. My lawyer keeps telling me that I won’t feel justice has been served, I won’t get satisfaction, and will feel that is unfair. Because it is.

No one is going to just give me a house to live in with my cats on the Northside so I can run the pet food pantry and trans affirming projects. No one is going to give me that house anywhere. 

Ironically, perhaps, there’s a house on my block here in Manchester for sale. It is almost directly across from Fort Faulsey. It costs $284,000. Not enough crowdfunding in the world. And I could never afford a sincere mortgage payment. It is too bad we can’t put the pet food pantry and pet stuff storage and so forth there and I can be the caretaker. It even has multiple lots like our current home. I guess it shows that you never know where an interesting possibility might arise.

I have to make my own home. I see a solution, but it is improbable.

This is not about proving a political point, although I think that’s important here, but about proving that I deserve housing. I have a pittance to lose. Even the best offer to date would only cover my living expenses for three years. Then what? I can’t get a job. It is unlikely safety net programs will miraculously strengthen. Blogging won’t generate revenue.

I’ll be the doddering auntie in British period pieces who moves from relative to relative out of duty, not affection. And I don’t have any relatives. Also, I’m not British. 

I have no idea what to expect next except the start of the discovery process for the tort. 

In the meantime, I have a practical need right now – cleaning/organizing the attic and basement.

One attic window looks across the yard to Monongahela skyline with the West End Bridge glistening on sunny days. The floor is the original pine laid in 1872, sturdy and solid. There’s no ductwork, but heat from the second floor keeps it comfortable and we have a window AC unit for hot summer days – for the cats, of course. 

Obviously, there is the immediate health and comfort benefit for both. 

But there’s more. The attic is supposed to be my sort of living room space so I’m not in my bedroom so much. I do have use of the living room during weekdays and sometimes on the weekends. I like my room and it is cozy, but I need to sit in different positions and move around. My back is aching a bit from stretching out on my bed so much. I’m no longer a college student in a dorm. And my back knows it.

A friend donated a tv which is really nice. There’s a coffee table and end tables and lamps so all I’ll need to get is a gently used futon or some chairs. The cats have a tree up there and there’s a minifridge pilfered from a Buy Not a Thing listing. 

This would be a lovely space for me especially in the winter when going outside for a different pov isn’t always comfortable. And it will give me a chance to go through my attic stuff for whatever comes next in my journey. And to get a fresh perspective on blogging. You’d be amazed what a change in perspective can do. 

The basement is semi-finished. A lot has been cleaned out, but a thorough scrub and sorting of the remaining items will give me space to manage the pet food pantry, especially the nonfood items.

So it helps me, it helps the 70+ folks in our pet food pantry, and it helps the cats. There are millions of towels and blankets down there that could be put to better use.

These are not tasks I can manage on my own. I have found two companies – one is owned by a queer, nonbinary, disabled, person and the other is owned by a Black trans woman. So your investments will help me and help them. 

I need about $1000 for both projects and some legal expenses. I’ll get the furniture and bins through the sharing economy resources. I’ve got the cleaning supplies on hand. UPDATE: you’ve contributed $375 in 12 hours so just $625 to go!

Why so much? Because it is hard, important work that deserves excellent compensation. I deserve the spaces, but they deserve the acknowledgement of their work. 

Maybe I’m manifesting healthy, orderly, and safe spaces for me. Maybe I need to remind myself that I can create such space wherever I go. 

Maybe I just need to stay grounded in the present moment. Try not to think about being made homeless by someone I trusted and loved.

I realize it may sound silly to spend money on a house that may not be mine for long. But this isn’t about renovations or repainting. It is about daily living spaces, about the present. 

I do not love that I have turned into a person who uses the word ‘manifest’ so much, but I also do not love the prospect of being unhoused. Perhaps things will work out okay. Or perhaps you’ll be able to point to this post as the start of a slide into homelessness and understand better that it is rarely due to being lazy, weak, or undisciplined.

I am literally begging you to help me. The British aunt who rotates from relative to relative may be ridiculous, but she’s a stalwart character in every single novel, play, teleseries, movie, etc. She belongs precisely for all the reasons she’s considered redundant. She makes important points, she carries family history, she sets the example for remorse and repentance, and she sometimes has a sharp tongue that everyone secretly enjoys. Most of all, she deserves to have a place to live even if it is rotational. No one denies her that basic need. 

Think Maggie Smith as Charlotte Bartlett (cousin v aunt), Mrs. Dashwood, Aunt Abby and Aunt Martha, Aunt Josephine, etc.

So if you can help me once again on this journey, I would be grateful.

• GoFundMe bit.ly/HelpLGBTQBlogger
• Venmo @Pghlesbian
• Paypal.me/Pghlesbian
• CashApp $pghlesbian
• Zelle sitnscoop@gmail.com

PS: we did get the house appraised thanks to your help last month. the house has increased from $100,000 when we became partners to $250,000 on the date of our separation. and I didn’t even clean or paint or so forth. I just want to be accountable to you about your investments. And perhaps we can together try to understand how I can live in a house worth $250,000 two years ago and still be facing homelessness soon.

I’ll have to make another deposit to my retainer soon. I bought groceries. Several feral cats need veterinary visits.

And I’m scared.