TELL

TELL S2E4 - Actually, Love - Episode Transcript

Drae Campbell: From the corporate infrastructure [strum] [laughter] [TELL THEME SONG]

[MUSIC BED] DC: Hi, I’m Drae Campbell and this is TELL -- a podcast where queer people tell queer stories. For the past 8 years I’ve been hosting and curating a night of live storytelling at BGSQD -- a queer bookstore in Manhattan. And now I’m sharing those stories with the world… again! Season 2.

DC: Just so you know these stories were recorded at all different times and places and throughout the quarantine, pre-vax, post-vax, and everything in between.

DC: So, if you need a dose of queer community, or just wanna hear great stories told by the people who lived them, you’ve come to the right place. So center your chakras and squeeze out your tubes, ‘cause TELL is queering the narrative and telling our stories, on our terms.

[FADE OUT MUSIC]

[MUSIC BED: Slow, whistle] DC: Each episode of TELL features three stories that center around a theme and the theme of this episode is… [echo] ACTUALLY LOVE.

DC: Our first story… Yunique is an artist and food enthusiast. This next story embodies a lot of what a lot of people were going through during covid, and it’s actually a really wonderful document of what it was like to be inside a pandemic and to be going through traumatic events. I’d also like to offer a trigger warning. Some of the content is difficult with regards to suicide. This story was recorded in 2021…

[END MUSIC BED]

[YUNIQUE]
Yunique: Hi, everyone. How's it going? I'm feeling, like, virtually awesome and honored to be with you all. So. Yeah, I'm from Jamaica, the diaspora of Jamaica, although I've been here for about 20 years, living in New York. And I'm currently living in Sunset Park where I am quarantined and my story or how l will be speaking to you all, by the way, just fyi is that I really have realized that I have way more social anxiety than I thought, or maybe it's because of quarantine or something, but I had to write out a lot of my thoughts, they're not necessarily in any kind of format, if that's OK with everyone?

DC: That's great. We love that.

Yunique: All right, yeah, dope. So yeah, I am a healer. I am a lover. I am a food enthusiast. And like the many states we arrive in, one of them is being naturally positive at birth. And also, we have a brain that is negatively bias in the absence of anything. We sometimes don't understand. We kind of like go to a negative. And so the rose colored glasses, like when I think about that theme, I thought about, I suppose, like an optimism association, almost like an unrealistic optimism association at first -- seeing things through like a rose colored glass that brings up the ethics for me of like interdependence. That's a state of being dependent upon one another, something mutual. Doing things for each other, it makes our lives easier, and it makes us trust each other and love each other more, which kind of creates a secure function in a relationship, which I kind of feel like comes from, you know, sometimes thinking about the positive and thinking about things through like a rose colored glass.

Yunique: So like. late January of 2020, I went to a friend's memorial and, to be honest, like, I was even stunned to be there because my friend took their life and I couldn't grapple anything. I couldn't say anything. I'm even feeling kind of weird right now, the fact that I said "my friend took [their] life" and then the second sentence was "I". But that wasn't my reality, and it conjured shame. And I know that it shouldn't, and I know it's not deserving. But still, my senses like rush to that uneasy feeling. And I just had saw them a few months ago. Even when I saw them, I wanted to say so much. Whatever the cases were, I didn't say what I wanted to say. And I'm not even sure if it was anything to, you know, save this person's life. I don't know. But I didn't say those things, and I kind of like, have regret for that. And so being there, I asked a lot of questions like, “Why didn't I say these things?” Or, you know, like the whys. And at their memorial though, I had a lot of closure with their family and with our friends that we knew together. And it was beautiful. Shortly, right, right after that, the pandemic followed, and that really affected us all.

Yunique: In that time as well, I was also in the middle of a quest of like dedicating more time to humility and understanding more about me and what is inherited. What are these things that are inherited in me and how can I, not necessarily touch them or grapple them, but more understand them and move with them and kind of vibe with them? And so I was on a quest to speak to my grandmother more, and speak to the people around me that I felt safer or blessed to even have. And for me, that was with my grandmother. That led us into being quarantined together because, as we all know, the elderly was most vulnerable. So we kind of like stayed quarantined together. And wow! I got more than humility. I got so much more. And I'm just so happy I did that because sometimes from diaspora too, in the beginning, like when I was like 19 or so and I'm like, "I need to find myself, let me go to, you know, the places that are I have access to because I live in New York City," which are the gay clubs and gay bars. But I always didn't get what I needed from those spaces. And granted, you know, it's nothing wrong with those spaces. It was just more that I was, you know, bypassing grandma [laughs].

Yunique: So anyways, one of the things that staying with them in finding more humility and love and love for myself too and my own attributes that I need to work through. They have this saying, "When God get ready, you have to move." And fast forward to June 2020, and I was like, "Yo, I need to unravel. I need to go into a mountain somewhere." And my grandma said, "When God get ready, you got to move!" And so, I found myself just trying to find nature wherever I could and trying to find space to breathe in a way that felt unfamiliar. But I just needed something that, you know, that was going to get me where I needed to go. There, I realized like, “Wow, I kind of put my friend MJ on the back burner”, seeing that I needed some mourn for them more. So I kind of made time for that, but still also like, "OK, when you leave this mountain, Yunique, you're not necessarily going to go back to grandma's house. You really kind of need some more space for yourself."

I found a place to get the breath of fresh air through nature that I needed in Flatbush. And the backyard had a little patch of grass and I was like, "OK, this is it. Yes, I'm going to unravel, and this can be my little thing for a little bit." I'm taking care of myself and I kind of I trust the gravitational pulls that was kind of heading me where I needed to go. And yeah, I found a space in Flatbush. And it was with three roommates. And granted, I, now in my life, I need a little bit more space and time to kind of like unravel. But with budget and, you know, the fast move and everything like that, I kind of just put rose-tinted glasses on, and was like, "All right, this person is telling me who they are, so I'm going to listen to that and I'm going to just kind of fall back on that interdependence. And that didn't really quite work out. Like, in fact, two months after living there, I was illegally evicted for reasons of white biases and threats and police being called and all that stuff. And I was like, "How did I get here? I feel like these people told me some things. I took it for what it was because I'm exhausted. I just, I'm just going to like, listen to what you have to say." And because I threw out something super dramatic about being evicted and being, you know, the police calling me. I want to say that I negotiated terms and safety that felt right for me, and I'm currently safe and OK.

Yunique: But… so, yeah, I got out of that situation with a lot of continuous patience and healing and navigation and kind of like standing my ground and like grandma said, "When God get ready, you got to move." So I moved into something that better serves me now, which I am currently in. And there I had a breakdown. I was like, "All I'm trying to do is, you know, unravel like, do my little art, write a little bit, and mourn for my friend." I feel like, literally since this year, last year I realized I've been trying to mourn. I've been trying to mourn. Going to nature or just meditating, kind of like waiting for answers. And I realize that I am in mourning and I am mourning currently. Those things are saving me. And then sometimes I wonder, “Why do these thoughts just come to me to like, save me, you know? What is conjuring that just like a power from within?” It is not only like a survival tool for me, but it also is a tool that makes me thrive.

Yunique: And like I said, I'm here like settled again. And after being settled, I, while in the pandemic and staying with grams, I was able to get some access to some grants and artist grants and things like that. And a producer from China kind of like reached out to me through one of those grant situation and was asking me, how am I surviving the pandemic and just like living through everything that's going on? And I told her a little bit of what was going on with me, and they were like shocked to know just of the severities and the extremes that was going on with me. And I had to think for a little bit like, "Oh, wow." Even speaking these stories for me was a shock to my system. I wonder about some of the things that I am doing to heal and know what are the things that I'm doing nuance to, to get through? It is very powerful to know that sometimes we actually do know how to take care of ourselves, and we do have those tools if we kind of just like, sit with ourselves and sit with our nuance. And yeah, even sometimes when I wake up, if I can go outside and make like some ginger tea, throw some chia seeds in it, literally that makes me feel so much more dependable to go finish the rest of my day than if I didn't do that step. If I didn't do that step, that mean I'll just like, literally stay in the bed all day and then wonder, like, "How do people do the things they do?" and, you know, ruminate. We have the power in us to conjure the nuance and the necessities that we need and thank you all so much.

[FADE UP MUSIC BED: Improvisational piano]

DC: [clapping] Yay, Yunique! Give it up for Yunique. There were so many quotable things in that story. I feel like people resonated with the fact that you were on a quest, just the use of that word quest. It was like… oh!

Mariel Reyes (co-curator & producer for TELL 70: Rose-Colored Glasses): I want to say something, thank you for telling that story and thank you for talking about the stuff that you have been going through because we're all been going through it this year or so. And you're right, like I kept nodding my head because we are resilient people. We do pull these things from within ourselves. It comes from our ancestors, it's in us. But being interdependent and forming a community of people who you can rely on and depend on is what makes us stronger to move forward. And I'm really happy that you're asking for help and hopefully get the things that you need.

DC: Thank you, Yunique.

DC: You can find Yunique at Yunique dot Yunique on Instagram. That’s Yunique spelled Y-U-N-I-Q-U-E.

DC: Next up… Nessa is a Jersey-bred, Brooklyn-based writer, director, and performer. Hold your resentment, Nessa’s in love -- juicy, queer, delicious love! This story was recorded in November 2021…

[FADE OUT MUSIC BED]

[NESSA NORICH]
Nessa Norich: So how's everybody doing? Yeah. Great. Awesome. Yeah so trigger warning: This is a love story. When I was preparing for this evening, I thought that, you know, telling a story about my budding romance was kind of a dick move [laughter]. Because, you know, I was single for the greater part of four and a half years, and I didn't want to be partnered that entire time, you know? Some of that was fun. But in my most desperate moments, you know, I remember that, you know, seeing other people's love kind of transformed that desire into gnawing envy. And I was single during quarantine one and quarantine two. So that gnawing is very fresh and it was very frequent. So I get you, OK, if you're one of those people. But then I said, “You know what? Fuck it.” The people whose love was, you know, right in my face, those times were my role models for love, and they prepared me for, you know, the readiness of being in love ultimately. So I figured more love is always good, right? OK, great. Awesome. Yeah.

NN: All right, so when I am around my new love, everything feels like a slow dance. I don't know what your associations are with slow dancing. I personally practiced it every weekend for one to two years, religiously from the ages of 12 to 13. I went to school with 48 Jewish children and plus 30 Jew camp friends. So… and there are 52 weeks in a year. So I had a bar mitzvah or bar mitzvah every weekend between the ages of 12 to 13. That was my life and I would put on a intentionally skanky dress and makeup and high heels, and I would show up for a chance to get inches away from a boy wearing Axe cologne. You know, his fancy pants grazing my thighs, my naked thighs, and his hands grasping my hips and my forearms owning his shoulders for those two to four minutes. You know. we were like two magnets held at bay in our reverence of the unknown, you know? And I didn't know that I would ever get to feel that innocent, curious electricity again. And I actually didn't even know that I want it to feel that again until covid happened. And I just wanted to feel that feeling so badly that, you know, the first summer of covid 2020, I led like 25 friends into a clearing in the woods, and I taught them about the game of Snowball, and I led the game of Snowball. Snowball is a game that we learned and played at bat mitzvahs. And it was a ritual in which the bat mitzvah girl would stand in the middle of a circle of her guests, and she would choose one person to slow dance with in front of everybody. And the deejay would call "snowball!" and she and her chosen one of chosen ones would then choose another two people, and then those four people would choose four people and so on and so on. So it snowballed. But in the woods that summer, we played a less Hunger Games version of that where everybody started with a partner. And when I called Snowball, we would switch partners. And I cannot tell you, I mean, the feeling of slow dancing encircled by trees…was it, like, made my heart explode. And I had no idea that a year later I would find that feeling in a person. My special person and I met in a very mundane, old-world way at a restaurant. We were introduced by friends. We had never Instagram stalked each other before. And there was definitely like an instant spark, but I knew that he lived in Berlin, and I thought, I was told that he might be unavailable. So it was sort of like, "OK, we'll leave it here. cool." Then, later that night, you know, these were times of desperation. I arranged to meet with a fuck boy that I am not supposed to be dating, and um, really desperate times, and… I got stood up

Audience: [gasp]

NN: Like literally got stood up. Like it was like the universe was like, "Stop dating cis men!" And like I show up at a bar at midnight, he never shows up, he never answers my calls, my texts. The next day, he says he doesn't owe me any apology. It was insaaaaane. Actually, fuck boy shit, you know? And he facetimed to me a week later and I ignored his call, and he's like, "What? We're not friends enough that we can facetime?" It was so weird. Anyways, byeeee. So sweet justice, that next morning, when I'm so fucking pissed, my roommate knocks on my door and tells me, "You know that person you met last night at the restaurant? They asked me for your number." I was like, Perfect timing!

NN: OK, so I knew that this special person was a very special person towards the end of our second date. We met about two hours north of New York City. We were standing on a porch and it's raining. And it's that kind of rain that's like mist rain, like you can't stay dry and we are really trying to stay dry, you know what I'm saying? And something like Minnie Riperton is playing off of the speaker inside, and somehow we just get so close to each other and our feet just start like picking up one at a time. We're just moving to the rhythm of the music and the rain. And I was just like, "Whoa." And so began the slow dance, right? By now, we have already had our first kiss. We had our first because at the end of our first date. My first-ever kiss happened at a bat mitzvah. Um, as you can tell by now, bat mitzvahs were formative part of my sexual development as a straight, closeted person. But yeah, at that bat mitzvah, it was Halloween, and the deejay had just called for the snowball ritual. And everybody's attention was focused on the bat mitzvah girl, Nicky. And Teddy comes up from behind me, taps me on the shoulder, and he, like, mutters into my ear, “Do you want to hook up?” [laughter] And I was totally surprised by this. I actually had spent the entire day trick or treating as Posh Spice, practicing making out on my hand because I--it was sort of like, you know, it was foretold that Teddy and I would make out that I would be my first kiss. But I was shocked by this. And I, like, in my shock just like nod, about-face, follow him to the basement of the synagogue, go down the hall, get into a dark room. He licks me from my chin, to my eyeballs, and then he turns around and walks out. And that was my first kiss. [laughter] And so my first kiss with this special, new, adult love, it actually starts in a similar way with a question. I don't remember who asked who, but I just remember that we were standing outside in front of a bar. And just as his Lyft pulled up, one of us asked, “Can we kiss? Can I kiss you?” And we kissed, and it didn't last long. It felt like a bookmark. But um, we didn't have to hide. You know, we were in public, we were in front of other people, and there had been so many times in my life where I actually have had to hide. I had to hide my true sexuality and my true desires.

NN: One of those times, 10 years ago, I was in London at a house party, and I don't know how I came to be slow dancing with -- like slow dancing at a house party -- with this gorgeous girl. Let's call her Molly because she was involved too. So Molly and I are slow dancing and I am not out of the closet by any means. I would fall out of a closet later that night, but we didn't know that yet. But I was not out of the closet and there was a boy there who was there for me. And I love that boy as a friend, but I did not want to have sex with that boy, and I didn't want that boy to see me having this incredible connection with this woman, like she was irresistible in a way that was, like irresistible. And so we tried to find a place to hide and make out and take our clothes off. Like, I mean, I had never felt this kind of like gaping desire. And we tried to go the bathrooms, no lock. There's only one bathroom. We tried to go the bedrooms. People keep walking in. I'm terrified of being seen. And we finally find a laundry closet, and the laundry closet is only big enough for a washing machine and a dryer. So I get on the washing machine. She gets on the dryer, and I try so hard to understand my desires by touching this girl in the dark, basically. And all of a sudden I hear these voices coming towards the closet. And I was so terrified and so ashamed of what I was doing that I, like, did this thing were like leapt out of the closet to like, pretend I was like hiding. Like a “boo!” But my, my like leg got caught on something and I fell face first out of the closet onto my face. The next morning, I realized that I didn't have my red-rimmed glasses, which were my favorite things ever, and I went back to the house and I look up at the ceiling and there is a gaping, wet hole in the ceiling because someone had unplugged the water pipe from the washing machine. I don't know who would do that. And they found my red rimmed glasses behind the washing machine.

Audience: Nooooo. Not like this

NN: Not like this!

NN: So, yeah, I mean, weirdly and sadly, that experience didn't even really force me out of the metaphorical closet. That that actually wouldn't happen for another six, five or six years on stage with, performing with the New York neo futurists. Anybody know the neo futurist amazing theater company? When I told that story on stage and basically came out in front of the audience. And maybe a year or two later, really fell for somebody from that company who sparked that same desire for me. It was just undeniable. And I was, I couldn't deny my true, you know, orientation anymore. So where are we in the love story? My first kiss with this…yes, with this person. And now we're back on the second date, and I don't even remember us kissing on that second date, which is so weird. All I can remember is the rain and being so close to him that his face was sort of obscuring my vision for like hours. It just felt like it was like his face was like an eclipse, you know, of everything else. And then two months after that, we're standing in a field and we are staring up at the full moon and there is a rainbow orb around the moon. And the mosquitoes are like tearing us apart, sucking our blood. And I think we would have stood there magnetized to that moon all night if we could have. But for the mosquitoes. And then, he traveled off and went back to his home. And then two months later, tomorrow, we will go back two hours north of New York City and we will stand under the full moon and we will be hearing the same soft songs playing together and he will be close enough to smell and the Moon will be full. Thank you.

[FADE UP MUSIC BED: Gentle whistling]

Audience: [applause]

DC: Give it up everybody for Nessa! Nessa Norich! Everybody is speaking so…that was just so, so tender. But it was like genuine. That's what I loved about it was like, you know, sometimes that kind of stuff can be maudlin. Is that, that's the right word? Maudlin? Where it's like, it doesn't feel genuine, but when it's real and you, you feel it. That's all I'm saying. It was like I was very touched and it was also very funny and fun. Yayyy, Nessa Norich! It kicked up a lot of stuff for me and like, “Oh, I remember that time that I, I ran through the woods nude!” Something like that, perhaps? Maybe one day?

DC: you can find Nessa at Nessa Norich dot com.

DC: Our last story… Glo Butler is a writer, actor, and stand-up comedian. I don’t want to give away too much about this story, but all I can say is sometimes self-love is dangerous. Trigger warning: this next story does discuss suicide. This story was recorded in February 2022, and was hosted and curated by Calvin Cato for Black History Month. [END MUSIC BED]

Audience: [cheering]

[GLO BUTLER]
Glo Butler: Thank you. Oh my gosh, I've had so many issues with identity for myself. And just like feeling like I'm adjusting into the world or whatnot. As far as like being gay, I remember when I acknowledged it for the first time and I was like, probably like 16. I was in high school and I had a friend, a really close friend, and she was just like, and you know, I told her. And I'm from South Carolina, OK, so let's like rewind back. I'm from South Carolina so, of course, only thing people are doing down there was making fun of gay people, trans folks, or sex workers, stuff like that. So like, even if you knew you were gay, you were in the circle of people who were like making fun because you don't want anybody to like, assume anything of you. So I had a friend who I told, I trusted, and who I've known for a long time, and she used me as the butt of the joke in like a group of friends and stuff. And immediately, when that happened, I ran to the library and just wrote a suicidal note because I was just like, "This isn't this is not how" I was, I was like, “I feel like I would just burn or something like if somebody…” I don't know what I was really thinking that would happen if somebody knew, but I was like, I was one of those kids that instead of, to prevent people from making fun of me, I made the joke first. Do you know what I mean? So somebody beating me to it? I felt like, "OK, somebody come murder me now because like, I don't want, I don't want to be the butt of the joke." And I didn't see, OK, gay people being a thing in the future like that just wasn't happening, even in like 2000 or 1999. You know, like... Now everybody want to be gay, you know what I mean? [laughter] My own mama want to be gay, you know what I mean, everybody's just like, "This is convenient" you know? [laughter]

GB: So, so anyway, I didn't have, and I swear to you guys and I have tried to come out to my mother twice, OK, I've tried coming out to my mom. And like the first time I tried coming out to my mom, I was 10 years old and my mom was taking me to her doctor's appointment and randomly she asked me in the car. She was like, "What do you want to be when you grow up?" And I was like, "I want to be a gynecologist." She was like… yeah… she is like, "So you want to smell vagina all day and like, look at it?" And I was like, "Oh my God, mommy, that would be so amazing." [laughter] What's the legal age to be a lesbian like 15? 15? Like, as soon as I get my license, I could drive my friend's girlfriend's house. I don't know. But I was like, really, I was just like, I wanted to see, because my mom had no clue. She wouldn't think something like, that's a red flag or like that I would be, you know what I mean? Because parents now would be like, "Oh my God, my child is like gay now" for all of these little things. But like I said it, it flew right over her head. She didn't think anything about it.

GB: Second time was when I finally watched the L Word, which was fucking amazing. And that was the only thing we can identify with, even as a Black, gay, wo -- you know what I mean like, that's the only thing I can like, identify with, fucking Bette like in the ep -- you know? And you could only tell that Bet was gay because she stood next to her sister Kit, you know, who is Pam Grier? You know what I mean? So that's only time in the show you knew Bette was Black, you know what I mean? And then they made a big thing. You know, they created a storyline based off of that. But anyway, that was like the only thing. We didn't have, till this day we don't have two Black lesbians that are, like, identified, you know, that we can represent -- there's nobody, you know what I mean? Everybody's trying to -- I'm all in interracial, but I'm just saying like, there's not anything out there. You know? I was moving out of my dorm room in college, and my mom saw the DVDs. This is before a Netflix, so like she saw the DVDs of like the L Word. And she was like, "Oh my god, I love this show. But like, how do you know about this show?" [laughter] And I looked at my mom holding those fucking DVDs in her hand, and I was just like, I was just like, "I love this show, but trick question, how the fuck do you know about this show?" I was like, "Let's discuss this, you know, at least not living my truth. What the fuck are you doing right now," right? So that happened.

GB: And for my dad, my dad passed away when I was really young. I was seven years old when my dad passed away. And when I was like five, my dad looked at me, and he was just like, "You're not allowed to get married to a man until you're thirty five years old." And then he looked at me again, and he was like, "Actually, you can't even date a guy into you 35." And then he eventually was just like, "No boys allowed ever in your life." You know what I mean? So I felt like after my dad died, he created the like, he gained these superpowers because he made me gay. I was like… Yeah. He had a plan and he had that shit, you know what I mean?

GB: So, um, but there was nobody to like, teach me about sex, even. I had to, like, discover everything on my own, whether it was like being gay -- I didn't even try to research it because I felt like there was nothing out there for me to like, look for. And so when it came to sex, I was like, "OK, well, like, I know people are enjoying sex, having sex," even though at that moment to cover up being gay, I dated men and stuff like that. And even then, I was just like, "I need something that's going to make me get off and feel good." You know what I mean? "Like, how does this work? How do you like do it right?" You know what I mean? And so I did, at 19 years old, I did research, you know, masturbation and stuff like that. And I'm from the South. So like, please, you know, it's like you don't just -- sex is not just in front of you. So I actually went to buy my first vibrator at our local flea market because that was just our malls down there, you know what I mean? So then I went, and yo, this is before they had like the fancy, squiggly vibrators and shit. So I bought like this little metal vibrator. It was a very cheap metal vibrator. And um and I didn't read the instructions on it. So I started using it in my butthole. And y’all, I was using this vibrator in my butt for like a long time, like years, OK? And there was like this moment where like, I had like the vibrator was so cheap that it started to rust. But just like any toxic relationship, I still went ahead and just used it. So then this cheap metal vibrator started rusting and I continue to use it. So I actually end up like getting really dizzy and passing out one day. Yeah. And I had to go to the hospital to get a tetanus shot because I caught an infection. Yeah. So yeah, exactly. You go big or go home. [laughter] And you guys in my head the whole time when I was like, on the table, like just like with the doctor, whatever looking at me, checking me out and figuring out how this happened. You guys, it's one thing to catch, you know, an infection from like a STD or whatever like that. But like catching an infection from a rusty vibrator is one of the loneliest infections. You know, it's just like there's nobody to blame, you can’t like… [laughter] and I couldn't tell anybody. Now I can joke about it and tell it on stage and shit, but I'm just like, at the time like, “Who do you go to?” I didn't even tell my mom. But that vibrator went on for like, held me down for like at least six years, alright so…

GB: But then fast forward, I moved to New York and I got a job working for an orthodontist. Because I feel like here in New York you either work for the company that you want free shit from or you just steal, you know what I mean? So, so I got free braces from this orthodontist and actually from those braces I actually got, like, really bad TMJ. So like my sex life is different. I can only give head past ten minutes, you know what I mean? And there's a there's a point where like girls are like, "Oh my god, I think I'm wet" and I'm like, "No, these are tears. Because like, I'm crying because this shit is fucking painful," right? Anyway, so I did, I did get my first, like, real life crush, right? Because all the girls that I had before were just like, I didn't know how to pick girls, how to, like, pick out a personality and shit, I was like, "Whoever will give me the attention I'm happy with." So then I, I work for this orthodontist and I had an office crush. I fell in love with this 40 year old Jamaican woman that used to come into our office. And I feel like in Brooklyn people, we were the babysitters, OK, we were the orthodontic office, so people just sent, dropped off their kids and like, left, you know what I mean? And just trusted that they were just in good hands. So when we saw adults, it was like a whole thing, you know, and or we had adults as patients. So this 40 year old woman used to come into our office. And you guys in my mind, I like knew she was probably super straight, had at least two kids, you know what I mean? Like, but I was ready for the sacrifice. You know what I mean? I was ready to talk to this woman and just like, like, let's get past this. Like, let's just see if she'll be like, like, I'll be her one exception, you know what I mean? Like, I was getting paid thirteen dollars an hour, but I was ready for that sacrifice to support our kids or whatever, you know what I mean? So I had that.So when I was finally ready to ask this woman out, I felt that she was eight months pregnant at that time. And I know you can tell when a woman is eight months pregnant, but the thing about it is I'm a receptionist and all of our counters are up to here. So for that first year, I'd be working there, all I saw was neck and face. You know what I mean? Like, when you're swiping through Tinder, like some dating app, you don't see the rest of the fucking body, but you're hoping that it matches. This bitch catfished me, she was eight months pregnant at that time, alright? So, so finally, she disappears for a little while, I guess, to have that baby or whatever. And I'm sorry. So sorry. And then before she comes in the office, she calls the office and she's like, "Hey, Gloria, do you mind if I have a little help with my baby on the next visit?" I was like, "Hell, yeah, bring in the dude that fucked our relationship up, alright? I want to meet his bitch ass." OK? So finally, when she came into the office, she came in with like this nanny-looking chick holding the baby. At that time, the doctor comes up front and says, "Hey Gloria, do you see Heather in her partner's new baby?" I was like, "Partner?" You mean she's gay? She was a lesbian the entire time. Give me my baby! That is my fucking baby, right? Because that bitch was in my head when I had this life, this, created a story in my head, fuck this. Because technically either one of us could be that fucking zaddy. You know what I mean? Lesbians, right. So I really left it like open because I didn't know whether to, like, let it all go or just pay child support for fun. I don't know you guys. Um, so after that experience and seeing this woman, I became a boob girl, because pregnant women got some nice titties, you know what I mean? So I became like a really strong boob girl. That's kind of the lesbian that I am to this day. You know, but I feel like when you're suckin’ on a girl's boob, I feel like there's a fine line between making that shit look sexy or you just look like you're breastfeeding. You know what I mean? Because there comes a point where you're making eye contact and it's like "Mama."

GB: But I say that to say now, OK, I have a wonderful girlfriend. Yeah. Straight out of the south, OK. The good kind. You know, they come with the exra size and dippins, you know what I mean? But I say that to say, like, in all seriousness, like, I really did have a moment where I thought that I was suffocating and it wasn't like I moved to Brooklyn and moved to New York, where I was like, “OK!” And I try to explain to my mom, to this day, my mom was like, "Yeah, but you know, there's still...” My mom's down for it. She loves gay people. She loves that I'm gay. I think she was like, “I don't need two more grandkids.” So she's like… But I still have plans to have kids! You know, I just might be 45 or 50, you know what I mean? So This is nuts how times have changed. because I feel like Cicely Tyson, you know what I mean? Like, she's been through all the generations and like, whatever, and like I feel like the 90-year-old woman is just like, “Look at all these people coming about doing shit now!” you know? And I and I even had a chance to for a friend of mine who has a daughter who just came out as gay or queer or whatever, like she wanted to do this little collage of videos for her birthday of people that identify with her. And I'm like, "Yo, of course I'm going to be that mom, but I just wish I had somebody as a mom like you," you know? No shade to my mom because she didn't know, you know, when she was in the 1900s when she was born that this is going to go to down. She would murder me right now. So we know. Don't play with a Black mama, OK? But I say that to say that it means a lot. And I really, to this day, it brings tears of joy when I see, like the young kids now, I sound so old, but that are that are able to have people to identify. Because like, it doesn't feel good to want to be so suicidal just for your own identity because you don't fit in in this world and say, "Hey, maybe I should die. Maybe I shouldn't be here right now." You know what I mean? And I overcame that, and now I'm like, more confident than ever, and I have a fucking roommate that's complaining about my sex life with my girlfriend. So I'm ready right now, y’all. You guys, my name is Glo, that’s my time. Thank you.

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Calvin Cato: Glo Butler, everybody! Round of applause, let her hear it! Whoo! Oh my god. I'm so glad you survived that rusty vibrator. I-was anyone else just like, it was like in my -- the imagery! The copper-ness! I was just like, I was going through it in my own head. I was like, "Damn she gonna be RoboCop. Like, what. is happening?" I went through it. Whoo, Glo Butler, round of applause again! [applause]

DC: You can find Glo at Glo underscore In The City on Twitter and Instagram.

DC: [sigh] Thank you so much for tuning in… and queer folks, remember – If you don't tell
your story, someone else will, so get out there and…

Audience: TELL! QUEER! STORIES!

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[FADE UP TELL THEME]

DC: TELL is created, hosted and produced by me, Drae Campbell. The stories are recorded live, on zoom or on location at the Bureau of General Services Queer Division -- a pop and pop book shop and event space in the LGBTQ Center in Manhattan. Go say hi to Greg and Donny, who run BGSQD, and tell them we sent you, or follow them at B G S Q D.

DC: The TELL Podcast is produced by Emily Boghossian, recorded at BRIC House in Downtown Brooklyn by Zak Sherzad, Eric Haugesag, and Onel Mulet, and edited by Lauren Klein. Our theme songs were written and recorded by Drae Campbell and Peter Lettre. Charlie Hoxie and Kuye Youngblood are the wind beneath our wings.

DC: Remember to follow us on Spotify, rate and review us on Apple Podcasts, google us on google play, and slide into our DMs @tellqueerz or @draebiz on Instagram. That’s queers and biz with a “z”, obviously. And you know what if you like me specifically, check me out on DraeCampbell.com.

TELL is part of the BRIC family. For more information on this and all BRIC Radio podcasts, visit bric arts media dot org.

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