To Ponder.....................................................................................................Quinn Lander

How to Make a Bowl

My identity is fashioned in the same way as a ceramic bowl. First, a piece of me, a pound, is sliced away from the rest. Maybe the pound of my sexuality. Once liberated, it is wedged. As air bubbles and excess water leave clay through the pressing, uncertainties fall away from the pieces of me. I, the clay, am ready for formation. Then the clay must be centered on the wheel. It is done by pushing the clay up into a cone with one completely steady hand while spinning the wheel. The other hand works in conjunction with the first to flatten and push down the top. This process is repeated until I am left with a gumdrop shape that looks still in the center of my wheel, even as it spins. The chunk of me is slapped down as close to the center as I can get it before starting the wheel spinning. And as the wheel turns I force the clay closer and closer to the truth, true center. I keep my right hand steady, coning the clay up, with a question at 8 years old, “Why are girls so pretty?” The clay chops down, with another question at age 12, “Am I gay?” It cones up again as I find a new word at 13. Bisexual. The clay lands in the center and looks still. Now that my identity is fixed it must be fleshed out. I press my thumbs into the center of the gumdrop to open the bowl. It’s important not to press so deep into the clay that a hole forms at the bottom. It should always be thick enough to support the outward curvature of the sides. As I start exploring my new identity, I have to be careful not to lose myself. There will be time to clean and trim it later. So I kiss a boy first, to see how it feels. Then a girl. And both feel good. The width of my bowl is defined. At this point though, it is sloppy and too thick. The next thing I must do is refine the edges into one thin and continuous curve. I start pulling up the sides, using both index fingers to pinch the sides of the clay in a constant upward motion. I join the GayStraight Alliance at my school. I meet others who are like me. After these two pulls, the inside of my bowl holds its perfect curve. Now it is time to work on the outside. A metal knife is used to trim the excess clay from the bottom of the bowl, to make the outside curve match the inside. I start wearing pink, purple, and blue. I tell my best friend and she reacts with confusion that is easily carved away by my knife. I start to feel as though what people see is who I actually am.

twelve