I share the same ascendant as the United States. Literally. I have lived a personal timeline that aligns with America's history, and it's been a profoundly intense experience.
One of the wildest truths I've learned is that America deeply abandoned its own history and true identity during the Obama years. How do I know? Because I did the same thing. When Trump came to office, a surge within me made it feel like I couldn't hide anymore. I felt compelled to rebuke the traditional nuclear family I had built, having never felt safe enough to be my gay self.
As the world locked down and grew chaotic under Trump, I began to confront the possibility that I might be gay. I started to warm to the idea, but the forces around me—and within me—felt muted. Much like the nation during COVID, circumstances in my life prevented my full expression. Throughout Trump's first term, I spent every moment trying to figure out who I truly was.
Being honest was terrifying. The stakes were high: I had an ex-husband trying to keep my kids from me.
Eventually, Biden came into office, and I once again positioned myself to become a man's wife. I doubled down, marrying a man in hopes of aligning with a masculine principle. That marriage lasted only six months; I couldn't lie to myself for long.
I left just before the insurrection.
When I finally stepped into my first relationship with a woman and announced I identified as a lesbian, the synchronicity left me in tears. Sitting with my then-girlfriend, I read the news: the U.S. government had overturned Roe v. Wade.
That relationship was a head-spin, sending me back into the closet. I felt absolutely certain I lacked the capacity to hold the space a woman needs to properly unfold and become her full self. I had failed with her, and I needed to work on myself.
Following that connection, I spent six months alone, tunneling into work and my kids, rebuilding my family. I was confident I would be alone moving forward—until I had a dream.
In it, I was in bed with a man. He was pretty, almost resembling me, with a crooked spot in his nose and long, blonde hair. I was begging him to get out of bed. I woke up realizing I had more work to do: I needed to learn to love my internal masculine. I went out and found a boy, the first I could find with a crooked nose, and brought him into my life.
I would stay in the closet for three more years, but I used that time to study. This man's needs provided me the opportunity to become the masculine principle I knew I needed to be to properly love a woman. We were together through the transition from Biden to Trump's return to power.
As the reality of what's happening in the States became more apparent, my relationship with this man eroded. Programmed by the patriarchy, he was naturally opposed to questioning authority, while everything in my bones called me to stand up to it.
Just before New Year's, I broke up with him. As he walked away, I said aloud to myself, "I will no longer hide the fact that I am a lesbian."
In the following days, the U.S. saw the murder of Renee Good, a late-in-life lesbian.
Last week, I publicly shared this experience, as I am doing now. And America, true to our shared ascendant, continues to show us exactly who it is, too
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