Drumroll, please…

Okay, so here’s the big news (a few hours too late, but it’s here nonetheless)…

speaknodotcom

BAM! 

That’s right guys, the Taboo Tab has its very own roof now at tabootab.com. It will hang out on Shaunanagins too, of course…this blog isn’t going anywhere, I will certainly be using it to share those brainwaves you know and (hopefully) love.  I just wanted the Taboo Tab to have more space to expand and maximize its awesomeness.

And it looks pretty freakin’ decent, if I do say so myself. Clean, readable, visual…definitely worth taking a look and diving into.

(I am so excited, you guys. SO excited. This is going to be awesome.)

Want to keep up/get involved with the Taboo Tab project?

Follow the Taboo Tab page on Facebook: The Taboo Tab has its own Facebook fan page now! You can like it! (…I mean, if you want to, or whatever.)

Submit your storyWe are currently seeking  articles on the subject of Mental Health (submission deadline: February 15). We would also to hear about your experiences in the areas of Death & Grieving, Sexuality, and Body Image. If you have any experiences related to those categories, give me a shout here.

Give it a read: Even if you don’t want to submit your own articles, the Taboo Tab has some phenomenal stories that are well worth exploring. Check it out, drop a couple comments, and let me know what you think!

#iamsoexcitedimightfallover

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Big News For the Taboo Tab: Official Announcement Tomorrow Morning!

I have big, big news for the Taboo Tab.

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For those of you that are new to the blog, the Taboo Tab section on shaunanagins.com is dedicated to showcasing individual stories on subjects deemed “taboo” in polite conversation. With the help of storytellers willing to share their experiences, we have been able to help people relate to each other better, build awareness, and create compassion. It’s place for listening, for reminding one another that we aren’t alone…and that, whatever our stories are, we aren’t broken.

And it’s been so, so successful.

And it’s growing. I can’t wait to tell you how.

So: Tomorrow morning! Stay tuned for details! 

(I’m excited.)

People are Trees, Not Timelines

It was 2011.  I suppose that wasn’t so long ago, really, but it feels like forever now.

I was sitting in the basement of a local Unitarian Universalist Church, surrounded by regular attendees. I hadn’t been to any kind of worship in at least a decade, and felt like a fetus surrounded by middle aged church goers. I watched as the Minister passed around markers, telling us to “draw our spiritual journey.”

(I realize this may seem strange, but trust me–it’s business as usual at the UU.)

I drew and labeled tentatively across the page. When we finished, I partnered up with the woman across from me to go over the designs.  She showed off her intricate, curving  pathway–marriage, born again Christianity, yoga, Wicca, kids.  It was a beautiful timeline, and I smiled back at her story as she scanned my drawing curiously.

I hadn’t drawn a timeline.

I had drawn a tree.

I don't actually have original tree drawing, so I ran outside and took this blurry picture. Just for you. You're welcome.
I don’t actually have original tree drawing, so I ran outside and took this blurry picture. Just for you. You’re welcome.

A group show-and-tell circled around the room.  One by one, everyone began revealing their timeline. Curves, corners, arrows, paths, this-thus-that. Even the Minister illustrated his journey with thick, chronological lines.

And there I was, with my frizzy short hair and limited life experience, clutching an image of twisted branches while everyone poured out their major life events.

On some level, it probably had to do with my age.  When the Minister said “spiritual journey,” all my young mind could think of were moments and relationships, good meals and great ideas, quiet places and loud families. These were the things that made God seem just a liiiittle closer than usual.  So I drew roots. Branches to represent friendships, leaves to represent moments.  Some of the leaves were falling off of their perch; others were growing flowers. Text and little hearts explained (or refused to explain) what it all meant.

Basically, it was hyper-symbolic. It was not so simple –> as –> this.

And maybe it was a little strange, maybe it wasn’t quite what the Minister was looking for, but…I was proud of my tree. I liked the openness.   There were “big life” events on the tree, of course, markers of birth/death/love/war.  But there were other things, too.  The tree represented my life as a work-in-progress, with multiple facets. One big, bright leaf reflected a long, peaceful silence I shared with a close friend. Another represented the first time I got absolutely engrossed watching a play.

The tree let those things matter.

Looking back, my favourite thing about the tree is that it was strong, but not rigid.  It was alive. Parts could grow, or break and fall right off, and it would all be natural. As a young person, that was important. I think it might stay important as I get older.

(It’s also possible that I’m just kind of a hippie. Feel free to raise an eyebrow.)

By nature, timelines present our memory and our identity as rigid. They present our lives as one big story, instead of millions of imperfect experiences. I don’t know if that’s fair.  I don’t think we should restrict our identity to the things that “count” as milestones.  We aren’t necessarily tragic heroes with a beginning-middle-end. Nor are we self-aware folks on a direct journey through life.  “That was a really hard time in my life,” or “That was the happiest I’ve ever been.”

Too simple. That’s just too simple. We aren’t timelines. We can’t stop at chronology. I don’t want to compartmentalize your life, or my life, not like that.

Yes, yes, I realize all this might sound odd coming from a History student.

Let me be clear: Timelining is a great way to establish context.  It’s not a crime to treat events as “things that took place,” or even to consider people as empty, reactive vessels that “things happened to” at first.  I absolutely devour the nothing-but-chronological unfolding of the world through the lens of time.

But I also don’t, and can’t, stop there.

Even in History, reality often comes in trees. Family trees, for example. Essay outlines. Complex international relations maps.

Family tree with fingerprints from the extended fam. Can't get much more meaningful than that!
A family tree from our last reunion, with fingerprints from the extended fam. See? Trees are awesome.

We have to branch out. Timelines are great at telling base, simple stories…but they’re not so great at telling the whole truth.

And when it comes to our own identity, our own History, we deserve the Truth.  We deserve to represent ourselves as more than a timeline–more than what happens to us, and certainly more than a few life events that people have decided are “important.”

Maybe, just maybe, we could use the wisdom of trees to start looking at that.

(I know, I know. Hippie alert, part two. You can raise your other eyebrow.)

New Taboo Tab: Sex, Lies and Storytime

The Taboo Tab is a a community of writers and readers bravely putting faces and stories to subjects society seems to skip over.

This month, that subject is sexuality. Whew. Not exactly a small topic. And it’s a serious one, too–just look at what has been in the news this week.

This is a powerful group of stories that together show the complexity and diversity of a notoriously challenging area. There are stories about judgement, outlooks, and experiences. Slut. Prude. Abstinence. Rape. Conversation. Diversity.

As Alex Crane writes in “The Zombie Effect“:

I live and work in a world where sex seems to be both capitalized and whispered at the same time. “Look out, the SEX is coming!” (pun? maybe.)

These twelve writers are moving the conversation into the real world.

Slut.
Slut.
Prude.
Prude.

 

 

 

 

 

An Obligation to Divulge
An Obligation to Divulge
The Zombie Effect
The Zombie Effect

 

 

 

 

 

I Am Not Broken.
I Am Not Broken.
I am Jane Doe
I am Jane Doe.

 

 

 

 

 

.

The Pain.
The Pain
I Didn't Say No.
I Didn’t Say No

 

 

 

 

 

Being a Minister's Son.
Being a Minister’s Son
The Abstinent Man
The Abstinent Man

 

 

 

 

 

Confessions of an Empowered Submissive.
Confessions of an Empowered Submissive.
The Myth of Fabglitter
The Myth of Fabglitter

 

 

 

 

 

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/.

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(Note: you can read my own “Sex, Lies, and Storytime” article here)

Contributors: Alex Crane, Alicia Bridget, Alexandria (Ali) Prescott, B., Caitlin Corbett, Lucy Bee, Mark Corbett, Kate Booner, Michelle K., Rosie, and Sam McManus.

Want to contribute to the Taboo Tab? Drop me a line.

 

Taboo Tab Preview: “My Father Died, I Dyed My Hair Blue”

blue

 

From “My Father Died, I Dyed My Hair Blue” by Caitlin Corbett:

“When someone dies, neither the grieving or the well-wishers know what to do about it. We know we have to have a funeral, but after that it all falls apart.

We don’t wear black. We don’t shave our heads. We don’t go into seclusion. Nothing is different.

Except, of course, everything is different. We just have no way of showing it.”

 

Read the whole article, and more intimate stories on Death and Grieving when the  Taboo Tab launches on Friday, February 22nd.