Dear Mx. Ortiz
by Natalie Schriefer
May 1, 2021
Dear Mx. Ortiz,
I’m writing to inform you of my interest in the 3rd annual Queer Writer Fellowship. Please find attached my resume and portfolio, though I’d like to say something before you read them. None of my published work is about gender or sexuality. I almost didn’t apply, but then I noticed that you don’t write about queerness, either.
Can I ask why?
Last year, I would’ve said self-identifying. I’ve only been attracted to five people, ever, two women and three men. Does that make me bi? Pan? I don’t date much, so maybe I’m ace or aro or demi instead. Maybe my queerness is theoretical. I’ve never even consummated with a woman. How do I know, for sure, that I’d like it?
Forget it. And that was exactly what I tried to do, last year. I deleted my application.
Other labels are easier. Outdoorsy. Tomboy. Athlete. That’s what I like best about your poems, Mx. Ortiz. They stop the room when I’m reading. They remind me of sports, that flow state where the rest of the world fades—score the goal, ace your serve, cross the finish line.
In those moments, I’m ethereal. I never choke.
Last summer I climbed Mt. Washington. The weather was lousy, all clouds and drizzle, and the air at the summit was white mist. All that climbing, and we couldn’t see a thing, not the other mountains, or the trail we’d taken, or even the auto road right in front of us. Nothing. We only stayed long enough to take photos with the summit sign. On our way down, I thought about the elevations carved in the wood. 6288 feet. 1917 meters. We could’ve quit at any time, hiking up. At the trailhead, the skies overcast. At Lion’s Head, when the drizzle started. At the summit crown, scrambling up a half-mile of wet rocks. But we summited anyway. Every inch of it.
There’s so much we can’t control. I should revel in all the things I’ve climbed despite that uncertainty, the risk. Truth is, I’m scared. I was scared last year and I’m scared now, but the difference, this year, is that I’m tired, too. I don’t have to write about sexuality in order to prove myself. I can choose to, or I can choose not to. Either way, I’m here, I’m queer, and I’m tired of hiding. Justifying. This year, I’m ready to stop.
Thank you for your consideration.
Natalie Schriefer often writes about sexuality, women in sports, and the outdoors. Her work has appeared in print or online at jmww, Room, and MTV, among others. She received her MFA from Southern Connecticut State University, and works as a freelance writer and editor. Home base: www.natalieschriefer.com.
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What surprising, fascinating stuff can you tell us about the origin, drafting, and/or final version of “Dear Mx. Ortiz”? In early 2020 I applied for a poetry fellowship. Writing my letter of interest got me thinking about the ways in which I had to blend my individual voice with the professional template of a cover letter. But what would a letter of interest look like if the narrator spoke freely? If they broke the template and tried to connect on a more personal, and less formal, level? The idea for this piece came not long after—as did the exciting news that I’d received a partial fellowship!
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