I am truly puzzled by the notion that "homosexuality" is "taught." Nobody taught me to be a homosexual. It just kind of happened, well, naturally. No one "teaches" it. I almost wish it had been taught - I might have been a lot less confused in middle school. But to go so far as banning it? When it's not in any curriculum?
Preventative/minority legislation. You know who was a big fan of that? THIS GUY:
And these guys:
My best friend Tracy wrote a really great blog post about fear. Read it. It's spot on. Fear is the original exaggerator. It's the man behind the curtain, the monster under the bed, the wind through the trees. It's a Nothing that has become Everything. So you'll understand my confusion when I hear that a state legislature is afraid of this:
Or these guys??
Actually, I think it's because of these guys. ALL these (gay) guys:
Because according to the latest Gallup Poll, "For the first time, majority of Americans favor gay marriage." 53% in favor, 45% against. If it were a presidential election (especially in the last decade), that would almost be considered a land-slide. Their grasp of control is slipping, their vice-grip on "normal" is fading. Especially when a guy this cool...
Apparently, October is my "I'm going to talk about gay issues" month. It could be because elections are coming up in two short weeks (Halloween's got nothin' on this fright fest) so DADT and DOMA are at the forefront of the Democrats' failure card; it could also be because I'm looping Grey's Anatomy episodes in the cave of unemployment that is my room, while simultaneously (and frantically) searching for job opportunities ... or, simply because I miss my gorgeous girlfriend A LOT. Either way ... I'm super gay this month.
[You're probably wishing for more entries about the puppies at this point.]
My parents are good liberals. They are not hypocritical, they're open minded, and they watch Rachel Maddow, Jon Stewart, The Colbert Report, and Keith Olbermann - every. single. day. And because I'm unemployed, and home in the early evenings, I watch them (or rather, listen to them) too. I like listening to these programs, not just because they're highly entertaining, but strangely, they're highly informative. Keith Olbermann is occasionally supercilious, but I forgive him when he gets to his staple segment, "Worst Person in the World!" (it's usually Bill O'Reilly or Rush Limbaugh)
Last night on Rachel Maddow, Meghan McCain was a guest. She's a frequent guest. Oddly, I like Meghan McCain quite a bit. She's what I'm hoping the future of the Republican Party will be. She's smart, she she's an independent thinker, and can be reasonably conservative and still support social issues and civil rights. Pretty awesome. Anyway, here's a clip from last night's show. About 2/3's of the way through the video, Rachel shows an interview with Colorado congressional candidate Ken Buck on Meet the Press.
He's asked by the interviewer if he believes being gay is a choice. Buck says yes. And then compares homosexuality to alcoholism.
The concept that being gay is a "choice" boggles my mind. I realize that I have a very subjective view of this issue, but on a logical, reason-based planet (if one exists?) - I don't understand the notion that anyone would voluntarily choose to be a part of a minority that is poorly treated, marginalized, continually denied basic human rights, and risk physical bodily harm and death in some cases, just because of their "lifestyle choice." That seems fairly ridiculous. And as someone who tried to pray the gay away in secret for the better part of a year, I can safely tell you, Mr. Buck, that it is NOT a choice.
Unsurprisingly, the candidates like Ken Buck (see: Carl Paladino, Sharron Angle) who hate the gays, would also deny the right to choose abortion to women who are the victims of rape and incest, should they be elected. I'm the first liberal to say that Harry Reid (the Nevada incumbent Sharron Angle is running against/Senate majority leader) is one of the least effective Democrats on the Hill. But you know, when it comes down to politicians who do more harm than good, I'd take Harry Reid over Sharron Angle any day of the week. The worst part is that Sharron Angle is a woman ... who believes that women don't have the right to terminate a pregnancy that was created through domestic terrorism! Talk about "abomination."
Abortion sidetrack aside, the notion of homosexuality and choice (and the persecution therein) is becoming an international epidemic. There's a horrifying article on Gay365.com, that sites a Ugandan newspaper that printed photos of the "Top 100 homosexuals" in the Ugandan city, lists their addresses, and with a headline over the photos that reads, "Hang them!" Within the body of the article, there are quotes from a Ugandan minister, calling for an investigation as to "why homosexuality is increasing in the country." 20 of the "homosexuals" printed in that article have been attacked. In South Africa, the ONLY African nation to allow gay marriage, gangs make a point to find out and "correctively" rape lesbians.
Is it a matter of "increasing homosexuality?" Or is it simply that homosexuals are becoming braver? The bottom line, is that it doesn't matter - and it shouldn't matter. These are specific, targeted attacks on a minority of humans because of who they are. Does this sound familiar throughout the annals of history at all?
Thankfully, there's an upside. It seems as one side gets more and more fanatical, the other side gets more and more tolerant. I found this on a friend's facebook page. Strangely, it's an article by the dating website, OKcupid.com. It's a data-based collection of statistics, polled from over 3.2 million OKcupid members. It's kind of hilarious, and hugely interesting.
A couple of things I'd like to say, as a real-life lesbian:
1) I HATE the L Word. NOT ALL LESBIANS LOVE THE L WORD!
2) I don't do drugs ... nor do I know any other lesbians who do drugs on a regular basis, unless drugs = alcohol
3) From my knowledge of North America, which is fairly extensive, that map is pretty accurate, except that I think Utah should be slightly more orange than it is. Mormons are pretty gay - intensely closeted - but gay nonetheless.
The last two things I'd like say have to do with the oh-so-mysterious "gay agenda," that Republicans like to scare and excite their constituents with. Now, it will go against my Satan-worshiping coven blood-oath, but I'm going to fill you on what the American "gay agenda" actually is (because I can't speak for the Bulgarian, Chinese, Albanian, Finnish, or Mozambiquan gay agendas). Are you ready? It's going to blow your mind!
The American Gay Agenda is focused on obtaining equality through legislation so that all citizens may be equal under the law; specifically in the sectors of marriage, partnership rights, and domestic living. Other than that, we just want to be left alone.
Consider your minds blown. Notice how nowhere in that "agenda" is there a clause that reads something like this:
Also, we aim to improve our recruitment numbers by planting homosexual teachers in your schools for the sole purpose of indoctrinating your children into a life of homosexuality. The more children we convert, the more prizes we win!
The scary part is that nearly 50% of Americans believe the statement above to be true. THEY BELIEVE IT! There's a myth attached with the acceptance of Gay Marriage as a law, claiming that homosexuality is going to be taught in the schools. Now, being the lesbian liberal who values logic and reason when it comes to my law-making, I don't know exactly what the other side means when they say "homosexuality is going to be taught in schools." I've been trying to figure it out for a few years now, but to no avail. Will it be taught in sex education classes (if any are left) as a clinical option, along side heterosexuality? I'd hope so. Will it be mentioned over and over by your kids' physics teacher as a way to make "new friends" and see the world? Probably not. And if so, I'd totally be in favor of firing that teacher for teaching something other than physics. Also, I'd like to say that as a teacher, I do not make a habit of teaching anything outside of my field. Most of the teachers I know are the same way.
I have not, in my 11 years of being an "out" lesbian recruited, coerced, seduced, or manipulated a "heterosexual" person into homosexuality unwillingly (that's a story for another time).
Oh ... and that chart about how 50% of women are bi-curious? I've found in my "research" that that's usually true. Heck ... even Katy Perry kissed a girl. And apparently, she liked it.
So today is Columbus Day. I've personally always thought this to be one of the crappiest "holidays" on the American Calendar - precisely for the reason that I never once got the day off from school. Why write the names of Holidays in italics on the calendar, if you're not going to give us the day off!? It seems like a fountainhead day to celebrate a fairly lame fountainhead explorer. Did you know that kids on the East Coast get Columbus Day off from school? I was ticked, until I realized that celebrating the memory of a man who began the systematic raping and pillaging of native peoples in the Western continents was just not my cup.
But today is not just Columbus Day. It's also National Coming Out Day. And instead of talking about celebrating the "discovery of the Americas" (pffffft ... so histrionically wrong on soooo many levels), I thought I'd tell you a bit about my experience with the coming out process. Because truthful identities are something worth celebrating.
I came out when I was 17, almost 18. It was the last week of Winter break in my senior year of high school. I had known for at least two years, but in the community where I lived, the high school I went to, and my own sense of stature among my peers, coming out wasn't an option. This was the mid-late 90's. And while the GLBT community was being exposed in a very positive, new, and revolutionary way, the gay-straight alliances that are now the "norm" at high schools, were completely radical, and virtually unheard of at the time. I might not have come out on my own at all, except that my best friend, upon reading a poem I had compiled of single-line Tori Amos lyrics (yeah ... you can totally laugh), flat out asked me.
"So what's this about?"
"Huh?"
"This poem ... what's this about? Is it about one person?"
"Kind of, yeah."
"And is this person ..."
"Is this person what?"
"Well ... is it a boy or a girl?"
[silence] "I don't know. I think I'm trying to figure that out."
"Okay ... well, if you had to choose between one or the other, which would it be?"
"Choose between one or the other what?"
"Gender. Which do you like better?"
"Uhmmm..."
"I'm just asking."
"I think I like girls. I think I really like girls."
"I knew it!"
"WHAT?!"
"I've known."
"WHAT?! How did you? I mean, I didn't ... WHAT?!"
"I've known since junior year, I think."
"Well why didn't you tell me??"
"I just didn't know how to broach the subject."
"Would have saved me a lot of agony, you know ... that you're okay with it."
"Of course I am! I love you. And I want you to be happy. This doesn't change who you are ... it's just another level."
"Thank you."
"Have you told anyone else?"
"No - I've never said it out loud. I should probably do it now - Megan, I think I'm a lesbian."
"YAY! I'm so happy for you! And I'm the first one to know! YAY!"
[That's a mostly dramatized retelling - I don't remember all the details of the conversation, but that's the essential idea.]
This conversation then carried long into the night. My biggest fear was that other students at school, like Megan, had figured it out. I was paranoid about being "obvious." My fear took hold - what would they do to me if they knew? What about the awards and scholarships I was up for? What about my teachers - would they grade me differently? Would my parents still love me? Would I have any friends at all?
Anyone struggling with self-identity battles with these questions and more ... and the more questions asked, the more fear is produced. Now, thankfully, Megan is probably 50 times more perceptive than most normal humans, let alone teenagers. I lived the last semester of high school in a kind of paranoid bliss - I was simultaneously horrified of someone finding out - or worse - figuring it out before I had a chance to control it. But I was so completely thrilled that someone else knew ... someone knew! Not just someone - my best friend, who knew me better than anyone. Who sat with me at lunch time, who commiserated with me about the vileness of high school, and the hate we had for our hometown. My intelligent, articulate, valedictorian best friend who didn't even blink that I was different, and who didn't love me any less. In fact, she was excited and proud of the fact that she was the first one to know.
Part of the coming out process includes damage control. Lots and lots of damage control. The impetus of controlling who knows what: when you'll tell them, how you'll tell them, how MUCH you'll tell them, and attempting to calculate the fall-out as the news spreads is so daunting - it's enough to make you want to stay good and hidden in that closet for, oh, 80 years or so. It's maddening! Especially because once you say it - once you lay it all out there, that's it. You can't get it back, you can't retract it. It's such a brave, terrifying, and completely lonely process - it can't be fully experienced unless you're right in the middle of it. Unless you're living it.
My coming out experience was (by-in-large) so completely awesome, so supportive, so wonderful - and with each new person I told, it became that much easier for the next time, and the next time. I'm one of the really lucky ones.
I have friends who've come out to me, and with many I was the first person they told. And with almost all of them, the set up was written or said to me in a way that had me deathly afraid they were dying of cancer. "I have something I need to tell you, and it's really, really difficult. I can't even say the words - but I have to ..." So dour, so depressed, so frightened - and the phrase, "I understand if you don't want to talk with me anymore," or some variation, is ALWAYS the conclusive statement - (I think I said it a few times myself) because that's what their expectation is. They're expecting the worst-case scenario - that everyone they know will leave them, will stop loving them, will disown them. It doesn't matter how real this scenario could be - it's every non-straight person's worst fear. It certainly was for me - and I had exceptionally wonderful people in my life.
And if someone you know does that to you ... if they have such a hard time getting the words out that you're afraid they've got some terribly terminal disease - you are absolutely allowed to yell at them! Just so long as you hug them, or smile, or exclaim your immense relief. Tell them that you love them, no matter what, and that all you could ever hope for, is for them to be happy with who they are. That is the singularly best gift you can give: joyful acceptance.
So today I celebrate all those teens, all those early 20-somethings, 30-somethings, 40-somethings, 50-somethings, 60-somethings, and beyond - it's not too late to love who you are; who you've always been. And while you might feel alone - you're not. And days like today (without Columbus' help) exist to remind us of that.
Within the last hour, I've seen three stories about gay teen suicide, and a separate story about a gay college student who's being harassed by a crazy alumni.
WHAT IS GOING ON???
It's shit like this that creates gay rage within me. These cultural wars have got to stop! There needs to be some kind of intervention when boys as young as 13 are hanging themselves in their backyards. Different is not bad. It is not evil. It is not the destroyer of life as we know it. But you know what is? Hate. And Fear. And when Fear fuels Hate, we end up with an inferno of madness - shear, unadulterated, illogical, unreasonable madness. I've been crying on and off for the past hour, gob-smacked with sadness.
I'll post links below. You may choose to read at your own discretion. But if you, like me, have had a terrible, scary news day, I don't recommend clicking on them now.
One of the links asks why teen lesbians aren't targeted in the same way. Are they more resilient? Do they just hide better? Are they less self-destructive? Having been a former lesbian teen, I don't think it has anything to do with that. Girls and sexuality are handled so differently than boys, especially as teens. When boys figure out their sexuality - especially as young as 13 - it's a lot more obvious, because so many of their peers are going through rite-of-passage rituals that we provide for heterosexuals. Boys are supposed to learn how to be "men" and play sports. They spit. They laugh at stupid, bawdy jokes. They punch each other in the arm for no apparent reason - and as guy, you're just supposed to take it - because that's what "guys" do. If you complain, if you cry, if you show fear or misunderstanding or shy away from any of this - like blood in the water, the sharks come and circle and bite. Boys are so physical - the sheer visible differences between "young dude" and "young, cute gay boy" are amazingly clear.
I don't know what it's like for other girls, but for me, it was all about hiding. I do think it's easier for girls to hide, to a degree. But the ease of that choice is only permissible because girls don't have the same gender expectations. It was easy for me to agree with a standing gaggle of girls that JP Huntington was the cutest boy in school. All I had to do was say yes. It was easy for me to go to another girls' sleepover and let her mom put make up on me and give me a facial. It was easy for me to fill up my middle school and high school life to such a quantity, that I had no time to hang out or be "pretty." And more importantly, as girls, we're taught to show love for other people, patience, kindness, niceness, pleasantness - which is why so many teen girls have issues with expressing anger. Dudes are allowed to be angry and lash-out. Girls are allowed to love anyone, we're just not allowed to be angry and/or express our anger. We're supposed to smother it internally, and keep smiling through it all. That's what "nice" girls do, anyway.
This my sound silly, but I also think that in being *so* much taller than the other kids, that already marked me as being "different," so no one had the same expectations for me as they did for other girls. But all I had to do was say "Yes" and go along with everything. In fact, I once was so afraid about being found out, I made a terrible gay joke (to my basketball team), trying to create a diversion of attention away from myself. Thankfully my dad had the courage to tell me, right there, in front of my friends, how inappropriate and uncouth that tactic was. I still get embarrassed about that particular act of cowardice. I didn't really gather the courage to be myself and start saying "No" to the bullshit until I was 17, and knew I was leaving for college.
But the hiding - the hiding in itself is incredibly self-destructive. I remember listening to one of my basketball teammates senior year, talk about how, if she knew any lesbians, she'd punch them in the face for being "unnatural." Granted, I was almost twice her size, and would have no problem taking her down. But the point is, I shouldn't have had to. And I shouldn't have had to hide. I was so scared for years and years after that about someone freaking out that my friendship with other women would be taken the wrong way. And a few times, it has been. And I've gotten hurt. But I was at an age where losing a friend was no longer the biggest tragedy in the world - especially because I had SO MUCH incredible support around me. Now, I'm to the age where I just don't care. And that's a nice place to be.
But not everyone has what I have, men or women. Especially not 13 year olds. 13 was the crappiest year of my life, and that was without knowing anything about my sexuality, one way or another. The transitions that happen in Middle School can be the hardest of anyone's life - add on top of that a life-changing self-truth of a counter culture sexuality?? I can't even imagine. And then to be bullied every day at school. To not have friends. To not have the support of your parents because you're too scared to talk to them about it, and far too embarrassed. To live in a place so dark and desperate, you are convinced that death is a far more healthy choice than any further existence could be. To know at the core of your soul (albeit, incorrectly), that everyone else would be better off without you; hell, even YOU would be better off without you. And the penetrating SHAME that consumes your life, bit by bit.
Meanwhile, most states are (or have already) banning gay marriage with the fear-based argument that homosexuality will be taught in schools. Well you know what? Maybe it should be. Maybe we should be having a talk with kids and giving them information, instead of making them scared about their differences. Maybe it would save lives and improve generation upon generation, so that we're not dealing with this shit in 10, 20, 30 years.
And I urge you - if you have some gay males in your family, be they friends or relatives - just tell them that you love them. Just as a reminder. Because chances are, they were in these kids' shoes at one point or another. And it's never tacky to remind the ones you love that you're happy they're alive, and in your life.
That's all very heavy-handed; but amidst this madness - here's what I'm grateful for:
When I was little ... like 3 or 4 ... Annie was my favorite movie. I loved it *so* much, my dad produced the live stage version, just for me! I would sing it, I would quote it, I would while away hours in my room by myself, reenacting it. One of the highlights was that the dog who played Sandie came to live with us, and as we didn't have a dog of our own, it was awesome!
Ahhh ... the halcyon days of my childhood. I identified with that spunky, little orphan. In fact, when I was really young, I thought I was an orphan. I didn't see how I possibly belonged to my mother. Oh, my father I knew - beyond the shadow of a doubt - I was related to. But I figured he just searched for me until he found me. Coincidentally my love for Little Orphan Annie was only replaced (around the age of 6 or 7) by another orphan named Anne ... but this one was Canadian, and didn't sing or dance.
Both orphans ... with red hair ... names begin with A ... smart, spunky, optimistic girls who pulled themselves up by their bootstraps, took it on the chin, and never looked back. That must have been the reason why I hated being blonde - by all rights, my hair should have been red. UGH! Stoopid genetics.
I digress.
One of my favorite scenes in Annie (the movie) is when Albert Finney, as Daddy Warbucks, takes Annie and Grace (Ann Reinking) to the movies, simply because Annie had never been to one before ... because she's an orphan. What I loved about that bit, was the bizarre fact that Daddy Warbucks buys every seat in the theater, just for that one show. I guess it isn't really bizarre - if I were a billionaire at the beginning of the depression, and seats were only a nickel a pop, buying all the seats would be chump change in the deep money couch of my life. But when I was little, it seemed so ... extravagant!
I went to the movies tonight. I also went to the movies on Thursday night. And while I understand that it isn't 1933 anymore, I think that $11.50 for one seat in a movie theater is a little much. $11.50!! Last year, it was $10.00. The inflation rate seems a bit steep, doesn't it? But then, I suppose with the competition of television, live performances, and more visual stimulus than anyone in 1933 could possibly imagine, I suppose I understand the need for it ... to a degree. I'm sure that in the '30s, everyone would go to the movies. That was it - that was the entertainment. Besides my two friends and I, there were maybe 20 other people, sitting in a theatre that could probably seat 100-125 people.
On the other hand, we have 30 times the amount of movies playing in one theatre now. Literally - the movie houses had one screen, and one movie. Now, we have AMC 30 - 30 screens, and up to 30 movies (though probably closer to 24, since the newest releases show on multiple screens). But all of this means that I spent $23.00 in two days to see two separate movies.
So my $23.00 is going to what, exactly? The actors on screen? Only partially. The Studios? Most definitely. The movie theatre itself? I'm sure. I don't generally go to the movies a lot. I'm usually either too poor, or too busy. It takes a lot - and I mean, A LOT - to get me to slap down $11.50 to go watch people (who get paid amounts that I can't even quantify), perform on a two-dimensional screen, surrounded by other people who can't turn off their electrical gadgets, for reasons I can only assume are related to life-threatening situations (or ... you know, not), listening to babies cry (seriously? Why are you taking your NEWBORN to the MOVIES?), and/or children running up and down the aisles (When did the concept of parenting vanish??).
And for all of this - I actually like going to see movies. I'm not trying to knock films, or film actors. I don't think it's a stupid medium. I value both the art and entertainment a movie can provide. But more and more, I would rather take my $11.50 and go see some possibly hideous NoHo live theatre. Which I would totally do ... if I lived in NoHo.*
Now ... all of this being said, the movie I saw on Thursday night is called Easy A. This one was WELL worth my money. Why?
1. Emma Stone.
2. Any teen movie that seeks to question and chastise the obsession we have with female sexuality is AWESOME.
3. Any teen movie that does the above by incorporating smart dialogue and the major themes and parallels of the Scarlet Letter by Nathaniel Hawthorne - yes, Yes, YES!
I'm going to buy it when it comes out on DVD, it was that good.
Tonight we saw You Again. I probably could have waited to see this one on Netflix.
1. Kristen Bell is very good - the best thing about the movie, really.
2. Sigourney Weaver - well, who doesn't like Sigourney Weaver? In anything??
3. Script - nice concept, poor delivery.
4. If you go see it, tell me what you think about the dude who plays Kristen Bell's brother. (I wanted to hit him in the face with a baseball bat, just to shut him up)
But the bone that I'll throw to both these movies, is that I found myself in an inner-dialogue questioning my own experience. With Easy A, I was thinking about the creative delivery and brilliant tie-in with the Scarlet Letter, and then how the writers turned it on its head. It made me want to become an English teacher, again. Or ... you know, for the first time. I really want every teenager to see this film - a "what not to do" for both men and women.
You Again had me thinking back to my high school career - being grateful that I was never horrible to anyone, and that no one tormented me. I survived, and got out (relatively) unscathed. No, don't think I'm lucky ... I got mine in Middle School. Although hideously, the movie had Kristen Bell graduating high school in 2002, and supposedly growing up and empowering herself in the long, long years since her teenage version of hell; she plays a public relations executive - a VP at the age of 26?? REALLY?? I have to admit ... that was just a bit much. Especially since I graduated in ... never mind. But it made me feel OLD - and I'm not really in any life position just yet to feel that way. Although, the fact that I'm currently unemployed at the moment didn't make it any easier.
Ah well.
Also, I spend $8.95 a month to watch movies, courtesy of Netflix, on my Wii. Saturday night, I was up till 3:30 a.m., watching Lena Headey (mmmmm) speak with a Scottish accent (*Drool*) in a British film called Aberdeen. Relatively depressing, yet redeeming - Stellan Skarsgard is also in it. In a nutshell: A cocaine addict is sent by her mother, who's dying of cancer, to retrieve her alcoholic father in Norway, and get him back to Aberdeen, before mom dies.
I decided to chase that little gem of happiness with Rachel Getting Married. Everyone I know has been telling me how great this movie is, and how great Anne Hathaway is in it. I don't know what I was expecting; possibly some honest-to-goodness self-deprecating humor, or at least the "funny-'cause-it's-true" variety -the kind I love in movies about family dysfunction. Yeah, it doesn't have any of that. Imagine my shock! It was so painful ... I almost turned it off. I didn't - and I'm glad I didn't. But hot damn. There should be category requirements for dysfunctional family films:
"It puts the FUN in dysFUNctional!" or "It's just going to make you cry." Or, possibly: "Wes Anderson Dysfunctional" or "Mommy Dearest Dysfunctional." I know I'd appreciate the warning. Anyway, Anna Deavere Smith and Bill Irwin are in it, as is Debra Winger. It was all sort of heart-wrenchingly fabulous from an acting point-of-view.
And lastly, having nothing to do with anything I've just talked about, I've decided that I like Glee. Many people thought I already did, just because I happen to be a lesbian, and the show deals with gay themes and musical theatre. But folks, let me tell you - the gay boys are the ones who are stereotyped to like musicals. The lesbians are stereotyped to like sports. See the difference? You can witness this stereotyping right here, on my blog. Just look to see how many musical theatre-related items I've tagged. Now look to see how many sports-related items I've tagged. PLEASE - let's stop confusing this. I feel slightly annoyed whenever someone tries to stereotype me outside of my stereotype.
And - I bought my first purse/bag/thing on Saturday. I was with my friend Stephanie who said, "It's stylish, but it's also very you!!" I wasn't sure how to take that comment, exactly, but it's true! It's cargo-fabulous, has a long adjustable strap, and lots of pockets. I was getting really tired of carrying my wallet, keys, cell phone and multiple pairs of glasses in my pockets, on my head, or hanging by my shirt. Lara told me today that it was a "bag." Liz told me it was "a satchel." Whatever it is, it's mine, and it boosts my estrogen and femininity in one fell swoop. Just one more element in my ultimate quest for androgyny! BWUAHAHAHAHA! My evil plan is working! Soon, no stereotype will work at all!! Look upon me and tremble!!
......and I'm done.
* While I do support OC theatre, NoHo is the only place I know of where tickets for $11.50 (or less!) actually exist.
I'm a bit of a word junkie. My career is all about words - the connection, the physicality, the movement, the meaning, the biology - and how to use them. My dad said, "He's a cowboy and a braggadocio!" last night, in reference to the guy at Office Depot attempting to fix my sister's insanely sick computer. I probably spent at least 20 minutes trying to think of circumstances and perfect moments in which to say "braggadocio!" This is my idea of fun.
Anyway, in case you're living in a cave at the bottom of Loch Ness, and didn't read about it *everywhere* - California has re-opened the door for gay marriage. Hooray! And while everyone's (like my glittering generalizations?) talking about the legal, political, and religious ramifications, what we're not talking about - are words.
A few years ago, the word "marriage" was all anyone could talk about. The (mostly) Conservative standpoint being that "unions" or "partnerships" were okay for homosexual couples, but not "marriage." Marriage, just as a word, it was argued, is sacred to the joining of one man and one woman. Fun Fact: The history of marriages covers all manner of business deals, including swapping a (virgin) woman for chattel, land, money, birthright, etc. etc. That doesn't sound holy and sacred to me. That sounds like a bargaining agreement.
But there's an issue, says the Left, with "Domestic Partnership" and "Civil Unions." Now we're going back to different drinking fountains and bathrooms - the separate-but-equal lie. This is one of my favorite videos dealing with this issue:
"I want to commitment ceremony you..." Kind of says it all, no?
The pro-Prop 8 people and their likes have been denying words to the GLBT community as a way to keep us separate ... different ... remaining in the "other" category, because if we're something "other," then we're not like everyone else - "human," or "normal." And what about other touchy words? "Wife, husband, mother, step-mother, father, step-father" - words for family? How do they fit in?
My uncle sent me this wonderful letter that addresses this question. This is why the words matter. This is why the myth of separate-but-equal won't cut it as we move forward, and why it's *never* going to cut it for any minority. When Liz and I get married, I will have a wife. I will have a sister and brother-in-law, I will have a mother and father-in-law. And she'll have that too (and more, because I have a pretty big clan). And we'll be family. Words have power.
I found this piece of yours very moving, and I want to add to the conversation on gay marriage my perspective as a child raised by a gay couple (a "homogenate" as I call us, for short) in the U.S. in the 1980s.
If I had been born in the '90s or the '00s in the right state instead of the '80s, perhaps my biological mother and her lover, Mollie, could have had a civil union. That would have made their relationship simpler from a legal standpoint, for sure. But still, what would I have told my friends who came over after school and asked innocently: "Why does that woman live with you?"
Would I have felt better telling them that she is my mom's "domestic partners" instead of the usual routine: blushing, averting my eyes and blurting out "She's my mom's friend" or "Uhh ... she just lives with us" before frantically changing the topic.
Even if I was a pedantic 9-year-old willing to explain to my friends what a civil union is and how it is the legal equivalent to the (first or second) marriage of my friends' parents, that still doesn't address the fundamental problem in my opinion: Mollie could be my mom's friend, my mom's domestic partner, my mom's lover -- but she could never be myanything. She could never be my stepmother.
Family names are generic things -- mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, and all their step-incarnations. It is the possessive that creates intimacy and a sense of family. And while our family would have had the same strains as any step-family even in the best of circumstances, I have no doubt that she and I would be closer today if I had grown up calling her and thinking of her as "mine" in some sense -- even when I was angry with her, or I missed my father, or, yes, when I wished that she was just gone and my family was normal.
Let me add something that I experienced as well. My in-laws have always been supportive and loving and tolerant. They accepted me at Christmas and other occasions and were glad their son had found a partner. But it was not until we told them that we were "engaged" that something suddenly clicked. They finally had a way to understand us and our love because they had the linguistic architecture to make sense of it. I was going to be their son-in-law! With those words. I became family - not Aaron's friend, or roommate or boyfriend or lover or what-have-you. But his husband. And thereby their family as well.
There was and is something about these words - engaged, married, husband - even though they may contain a mountain of different experiences, that made us a family. I think conservatives should favor the unification and mutual love and support of families. And that means they must by definition favor the mutual love and support of the gay people in them.
This is not about creating something new. It is about making a home for people who have been here all the time for centuries. It is about making the human family whole.
[disclaimer: I promise this post does not have to do with a deceased pet...]
So I don't know if I'm slow, or behind the viral video eight ball, or if I really am the first to discover this awesome video and plaster it all over facebook. Either way, please watch this:
