I am super stoked to announce our first guest post from Callie over at calliegarp.wordpress.com, where she writes about feminist art. I have a feeling we’re going to get to know her very well.  

It’s summer, now, I guess. But it doesn’t feel like summer to me. Summer is going out in short dresses, collecting suntans like arcade tokens, puttering about in my mother’s garden, sitting outside for long hours, reading in the shade of the pear tree. But this summer, I’m living in a new state, a new town. My This neighborhood is filled with misshapen houses, plastic flowers competing with the identical bunches of red geraniums, anti-abortion signs and sad stray cats. I live across from a large brick church. It towers over our bedroom.

I don’t like to hold her hand here. She is the sweetest person in my world – the only person outside of myself I know how to love right now, and I don’t like to hold her hand here. It’s a little strange. It’s more than a little strange. I walk outside and I feel like I can feel them watching. I am always waiting for that first altercation. I live in fear of the words fag and dyke and what are you doing?

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