Guest Post: Temporary Memorials As Sites Of Grief
In recent years, we in the US have had to see a number of temporary memorials rise up. These memorials mark untimely, especially traumatic, deaths usually associated with victims of gun violence, brutality, or accidents. Memorials, especially if they are on the site of the event, become places to be in community with those lost and inhabit the same space, even if it is a headspace that is in memoriam. But these spaces aren’t just for remembering the dead, for the living temporary memorials become liminal sites that help individuals confront the trauma of sudden and often violent death.
Ritual: Remembering The Queer Dead
Twenty-two years ago Matthew Shepard was tortured in a field outside Laramie, Wyoming and left for dead for because he was a gay man. He died six days later, and his death sparked a monumental shift in how the country viewed the LGBTQ+ community. Two years ago, on October 26th, I was able to attend the interment ceremony where Matthew was finally given a permanent resting place in the Washington National Cathedral, and that experience was a wholly transformative experience for me as a gay man and as a queer witch.
Venerating Our Queer Ancestors: Resilience and Rebellion
This essay appeared as an article in the March/April/May 2020 issue of CoffeeTable Coven.
Connecting With Your Roots Through Myth and Storytelling
I was born in South Florida and spent the first decade of my life there before moving to Central Florida. Growing up I’ve always been closer to my moms side of the family. She came here with her parents in the late 1960’s as refugees fleeing Cuba on the Freedom Flights sponsored by the LBJ administration. Her grandmother was already in the country, having left Cuba years earlier and opting not to return when Castro took over. My mom didn’t stop working when I was born, so during the week I would spend my days with my grandmother and great-grandmother (who didn’t speak any English). Some of my first words were definitely “chocolate con leche”, and “guagua” because my grandmother didn’t drive so we took the bus everywhere. I also absorbed a lot of superstition from my time with them. For example, to this day I make a point not to rock a rocking chair if its empty because I’m convinced it invites ghosts into the house.