Pgh Lesbian Correspondents

Today this blog turns 20 years old, an era of words, images, and experiences I could not conceive of back on that chilly December day when I thrust myself into the blogosphere. Filled with curiosity, but lacking any expertise, I began.

Quickly, I was off on a wonderful adventure I never saw coming as I continuously changed course, navigating bumps in the road and finding out who I was as a blogger.

That 35 year old woman is unrecognizable now – an employed social worker, newly domestically partnered, loved by three dogs, eager to fit into all of the worlds around me. She’s a dim memory, almost a ghost except she poured out her thoughts and hopes and stories onto this blog platform. She blogged, so she will never quite vanish, but remain tied to Sue at 55, disabled, separated, very associated with cats, and carrying the weight of those 20 years of connections.

Was it worth it?

Impossible to say, it simply is this piece of my life that’s taken on a life of its own. I damaged my relationship, a slow erosion as we discovered our priorities were not aligned. I made new friends and thousands of connections with people through the blog and social media. I lost friends, family, and jobs as I relentlessly used this platform to scrutinize pieces of my life that never made sense.

I dislike being siloed as the blogger who writes about the violent deaths of trans folks in the US, because fronting this work with a white cisgender middle-aged lesbian is simply inaccurate. Of course it is hard, no one gets points for acknowledging my struggle especially if they are not similarly acknowledging my trans colleagues. I do my part, I get more credit because I’m a white cisgender middle-aged lesbian. Why don’t more people see the glaring defect in the analysis?

In my own contrarian way, I dislike the attention, the scrutiny and expectations, the presumed intimacy and familiarity. While I perpetually  crave validation and connection denied to me as a child, I still want to be seen as a whole person rather than a brand ambassador. Still, I chose this path and could leave it behind if I wanted. Complaining about this feels ungrateful, but the attention comes with a more sinister side. I’ve been threatened, doxxed, TERFd, harassed, targeted by white nationalist sites, dealt with death threats and the slightly less scary death wishes. I’ve been relentlessly mocked for my physical disabilities and appearance. People yell at me quite often for what I do and do not blog about. I was cancelled, cutoff by community leaders, and ignored by mainstream media. Even the City deemed the blog to be pornography and blocked it for awhile. as did Bob Evans. When someone approaches me in public, I must suss out if they are friend or foe, bracing for the worst and exhausted by the whole thing.

I am somewhat haunted by posts that did not land as I hoped, drafts that linger in a folder for years, and the many stories I did not tell.

So here is my legacy in its messy, ugly, and sparkling robust self. It’s not an unfinished novel in a drawer. I’m not going to polish it up or publish it out. Oblivious to claims that blogging is dead, this mammoth moves onward.

You’ll find painstakingly documented minutia of LGBTQ municipal policies, dark memories when Dems thought a pro-gay vote was risky, and too many names of women of color whose deaths have faded away. I documented variety shows, parades, public meetings, and vigils. I remember when the ACDC held its only ‘gay’ candidate forum, when state leaders had to use a tricky maneuver to vote against marriage equality in order to prevent an anti-marriage amendment, and the many years Allegheny County employees have been denied domestic partner benefits.

I indulged in scandalous headlines long before click bait was a term because I knew, still know, that jumping up and down screaming and waving my arms was the only way to get eyes on the issues, on the people living them. I share a post about Santa Claus and people deem it political because of my URL. I mention that a missing person is a lesbian then duck as accusations of all sorts of intentions head my way.

My eyes roll when I explain for the umpteenth time that I spend my own money to keep the blog running. There is no financial profit, just endless bills and a lot of spit and duct tape holding the blog together.

I have no favorite post. I rarely read my archive unless I’m searching for specific information. There’s nothing I will change, but so much I could have done differently. I am terrible about seeking new subscribers, followers, and readers.

One thing I pledged never to do is charge people to read blog posts. I have a patreon, but no exclusive content for supporters. It flies in the face of community journalism and my identity as a social worker to put up a barrier. Of course I deserve to be compensated, but then so does everyone else making subpar wages and working three gigs. I just won’t do it.

And here I am a full generation later. My marriage crumbled. I lost my freedom, I was homeless and might be again, no vestiges of self-sufficiency. All I have is this blog.

Will it still be worth it?

My hope is that The Pittsburgh Foundation or Heinz Endowments will fund a multi-year archiving project. The code must be redone, the graphics updated, the ‘personal papers’ added, and the outgoing links preserved as pdfs. Perhaps it could serve as a template for other mammoth media efforts.

Not that I’m going to stop blogging. No sirree bob. This is my life’s work.

What I might do is sell it to fund my living. The incoming links, the megacontent, the popularity would translate into a saleable opportunity. And my life could require 30 more years of housing, food, transportation, and more.

I’ve given up so much, but I won’t sacrifice myself. So I can only hope those who value this beast will preserve it by donating to my living and legal expenses fund.

Would you donate $20 right now to honor 20 years? Could we find 20 new donors? 20 repeat donors?

Even just $20 total. Links are:

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

It won’t be in vane whether it funds my life expenses or continues to publish. At the end of the day, I blog.

Still, I’m so glad you read along.