Fairy Wings

I’d love to say that it happened somewhere poetic—like while I was driving across the Mojave Desert or on some barren, wave-torn coast in San Francisco, but—truth be told—I don’t remember when it happened, exactly.  I just know that when I got back to school the fall after I travelled across the country by bus, I didn’t believe in demons, or Satan, or hell anymore—at least not in the fire-y oblivion and crimson, horned tormentor I’d seen on Flannel grams as a little boy. Read the rest of this entry »

Easter Prayer

Friends–

Two months ago, I started working at Westminster Presbyterian Church.  One of the things I do for them is write and offer a prayer every Sunday.  I thought you might enjoy last week’s.  For what it’s worth:  Read the rest of this entry »

Never Again: Shaima Alawadi and Islamophobia in America

On Saturday, doctors took Shaima Alawadi, 32, an Iraqi mother of five, off life support, three days after her 17-year-old daughter, Fatima Al Himidi, found her brutally beaten and unconscious in the dining room of the family’s home in El Cajon, Calif. She died a short while later at 3 p.m.

Fatima told reporters that her mother’s head had been repeatedly smashed in with a tire iron—a metal rod used to pry the rubber tube from a bike tire. Next to Alawadi’s barely breathing body was a note: “Go back to your country, you terrorist.”

“You took my mother away from me. You took my best friend away from me. Why? Why did you do it?” Fatima begged the KUSI-TV news camera as she was interviewed. Read the rest of this entry »

Why I Write On Days I Don’t Feel Like Writing

Because I didn’t know why I was so mad that night until my fingers hit the keyboard the next morning.  Because I don’t ever want to forget how his kiss made my skin tingle in the car that day.  Because when we jumped in the river, the water crawled into our hair and made us shiver. Because I almost got married and need to know how.  Because saying, “I’m sorry,” out loud sounded cheap.  Because seventh grade was awkward for us all. Because I need to know which stories are important.  Because my mind would get too cluttered otherwise.  Because it makes me a more honest person.  Because some days it’s all I have.  Because it keeps me hopeful.  Because it makes my parents proud.  Because it makes me proud.  Because Dean thinks I’m good at it, and I have the email to prove it.  Because I never thought I could, and neither did she.  Because Taylor told me to, and I promised I would.

Because they said if I shared my story I’d lose my job.  Because I had to share it anyway.  Because he called in December to tell me gay people don’t belong.  Because that’s called injustice. Because I was afraid of myself for so many years and I’m not anymore and that matters a hell of a lot.  Because no one whispered into my twelve-year-old ear to tell me that it’s totally normal for boys to like other boys.  Because he wrote me a letter promising he wouldn’t kill himself after he read that one I wrote about the way my dad hugged me when I told him everything.  Because it really is normal.  Because when I was in fourth grade, my dad spray painted rocks and scattered them across our back yard when the gold rush at school didn’t go as well as I’d liked.  Because he also helped me pay for counseling when I had sex for the first time at twenty-one and it was way scarier for me than I thought it’d be.  Because more dads should be hugging their sons.

Because no one should have to walk through life without good, loving friends.  Because a lot of people do.  Because I know what it means to feel so lonely you want to vomit.

Because it takes practice.  Because I can’t help it.  Because it teaches me that failure is fine.  Because it’s worth waiting for the right metaphor.  Because, “metaphor,” really means, “person.”  Because time can only smell like buttermilk biscuits on paper, and my arms aren’t actually fifteen-years long, and it’s weird to tell people the color green sounds like home over coffee.  Because, like most worthwhile things, it’s difficult.  Because it makes me feel brave.

Because some words are too thick for air.

The Six Stages of Pop Song Addiction

This story was published on Thought Catalog.

Check it out. 

My First Piece In The Huffington Post!

Hey, team.  My first story was published in The Huffington Post today: “Coming Out at a Christian College”.  Thought you might enjoy reading it!

Coming Out at a Christian University

Thanks for the support.

Guest Post: I Might Be Gay If I Tried Hard Enough

Author Information: If you’re ever feeling cynical about the resiliency of the human spirit, look to Chloe Sparacino to be reminded that we can–indeed–press forward, even when great tragedy strikes.  With words that send the hairs on my arms straight into the air, Chloe fearlessly gives voice to her personal journey and reminds me that I’m not alone.  She is also very pretty.

Read more of her work here. Read the rest of this entry »