"I Never Met a Man"

"I never met a man I liked as much as my horse," the old cowgirl told my mom our first year at the rodeo. Years later, my mom is still convinced she's a lesbian, and in my mind I've rewritten her whole life into some kind of lesbo Brokeback Mountain.

The rodeo is an odd experience, filled with dirt, earthy smells, and acne and muscle-covered cowboys who wink at you or- literally, now- tip their hats to you.

It's a flustering, if entertaining experience. I'm not used to getting a lot of male attention these days, but then, I'm not used to dressing quite like this: long sleeve western shirts, push up bras, tight blue jeans and boots. Hair down and curly. No think glasses.

God help me, I looked like a girl. And I had a little fun getting the stares, not gonna lie. Not too mention the fact that, for all my ranting against animal cruelty, I still really love the rodeo. It's what I was supposed to grow up in.

I should've been a cowboy- or girl, rather. And that's the big problem with the rodeo for me. I talked earlier this week about being dropped into banjo-land and having to pass.

I just went to the equivalent of a banjo-land convention. Everyone is heteronormative, right wing (one more Obama joke...), and incapable of pronouncing the country's name any way but "Amurica." I fit in that night, and I admit that the rodeo gets me a little hot (and gets that damn Garth Brooks song stuck in my head), but I know better than to look too long at the pretty cowgirls.

Which brings me to the IGRA- the International Gay Rodeo Association. Apparently, gay rodeos have been around awhile, offering a place for the country queers like me, since the traditional country lifestyle isn't too accepting. I mean, look at the shit that Chely Wright went through.

Well, I missed most of the IGRA events around here, but it looks like there'll be a couple in Dallas and Kansas City in September. Here's to hoping that my college schedule doesn't interfere with my travel plans, because butch girls + rodeo = I may never come back to Arkansas.

It's just a reassuring feeling, knowing I can return to my redneck roots and still be who I am. Plus, I feel like, for other rural kids, a gay rodeo offers a chance to see gay rolemodels who belong to a world they can relate to.

In short, IGRA = awesome.