Showing posts with label human interest. Show all posts
Showing posts with label human interest. Show all posts

Tuesday, October 19, 2010

Our Scarlet Letter isn't "A"...

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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.

Gay sex vs. Straight sex

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.

Friday, May 28, 2010

Open Letters are great.

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I totally have an ongoing love affair with open letters. I write them, I read them, I find them to be cathartic literary jewels that call out to my eyes for attention - and I give it to them freely.

The first open letter I ever wrote was in the 9th grade. It was an "open letter" to Jean Valjean (from the book, not the musical). I'm not sure why I wrote him a letter, except that it was some kind of English assignment. I remember writing the letter, and then giving it to my dad to read and copy-edit. He's actually the one who added the "open letter" title to my piece. The comment from my teacher with an arrow pointing to the title was, "Oooooh, nice!" As though she were impressed that a 13 year old would know what an open letter was. Too bad I actually didn't know.

But now I do ... and in case any of you are confused about the term, here's the definition:

A published letter on a subject of general interest, addressed to a person but intended for general readership.

One of the first blog posts I ever wrote was an open letter to Canada, where I plead, ask, demand, and attempt to guilt the great country of Canada into giving me a work visa. While this letter did not give me what I was asking for (damn you, Red Maple Leaf!), it did allow me to blow off some steam. Lots and lots of steam. In fact, Canada, your people are very good at writing letters expressing their outrage. I'm really good at writing letters expressing my outrage. Why can't we merge, eh?

I digress. (I digress a lot around here...)

A friend of my Monkey's sent her a link to a website called Timothy McSweeney's - it's a website of "open letters to people or entities who are unlikely to respond." In fact, you can send your open letters to Timothy for publication.

So why am I so emphatically excited?

READ:
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AN OPEN LETTER TO THE AGING HIPPIES DANCING AT THE TINARIWEN CONCERT.
March 26, 2010
- - - -
Dear Aging Hippies Dancing at the Tinariwen Concert,

There is not a culture in the world honored by your whack-ass dancing. You, woman with the long grey hair, dancing right in front of the stage, don't do that, what you're doing there. It's not good. And you, next to her, same thing. I know the music is good, but this is no way to respond. They are like wizards casting a spell on us. You should be mesmerized, rocking hypnotically, but you are doing some weird kind of twitch.

Notice how the band is dancing. Small movements, practiced movements, deliberate movements. They are elegant. Yes, they are moving their limbs and you are moving yours, but there the similarities end. You are not doing the same dance they are doing. You are not one with them, they with slight tilts of the hand, dips of the shoulders, you with some hand-over-hand-like-you-are-unrolling-toilet-paper-over-your-head dance. And you, lady next to her, you look like you are trying to flick cobwebs off your fingertips.

Why do I care? Because you are making me look at you, because you forced your way to the front just like you do at every single concert you go to. Then there is the look on your face, which is so goddamn smug, which you force me to look at, which you force everyone here to look at, because you are dancing right in front of the stage. You didn't discover this. You want us to know that you are worldly because you are dancing to this music, and you want us to think you understand the Tuareg and their traditions, and you share in their struggle because look at how profound your face is and aren't you just one with the music. No, you're not.

And then there is you, guy in the middle of the crowd. Why are you flapping around like that? Why are you taking up so much space? There are other people who would like to be close to the band. Yeah, the band is looking at you, of course the band is looking at you, but not because they see some kindred earth-brother. They see a spazzmatic ass. And why are your shoulders up around your ears? Unless you are dancing in a Bollywood musical, your shoulders should not be up around your ears.

You, guy in the back of the room, you're cool. Your dance is awful but you force it on no one.
Oh, lady, do not gesture to the rest of the crowd to "get up." It is not your place. This is not your show. I did not come for you, but you are stealing my attention. You have no right. Just because you probably went to Kenya ten years ago does not give you the right to speak for this band from Mali. They have earned the stage. I will listen to them. They have done everything and you have done nothing. I will get up when they tell me when to get up.

Hey. Hey! What is wrong with you? Look around. Notice anything? Everyone else is clapping! Why? Because the drummer who has practiced his ass off in a tent in the desert and who has worked so damn hard to make a life for himself has asked us to start clapping. So we are clapping. What are you—oh, my God, are you pretending to play the guitar? Is that what that is? It looks like you are strangling a swan. Lady, listen, there is no guitar right now. Why? Because the guitarist is clapping his hands!

Why do you think you can have this? The moon landing wasn't enough? Hendrix at Monterey wasn't enough? You have to be in front for this, too? Why do you think you are entitled to everything? Why do you think this is all yours? Just get out of the way, please. Move to the back, please and let us dance in front of the stage. We dance better than you.

OK, guy with the shoulders, why are you jumping? No one else is jumping. This is not jumping music. Stop.

Honestly,
Matthew Robert Lang

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Now. If that didn't make you literally laugh-out-loud at least once, then my sense of humor is so much better than yours.

But a word to the wise: While all of the letters have a cute/funny/sarcastic/humorist vibe - they are not all butterflies and red velvet cupcakes. In fact, two out of the five I read made my eyes tear quite thoroughly. One is an open letter to a man's inoperable brain tumor, and the other is an open letter by a mother to her relatives concerning her child's fits from Asperger's Syndrome. Don't say I didn't warn you.

What I love about these pieces, is that open letters require intelligence and poise, humor and self-deprecation to be pulled off effectively. Most "journalism" or media stories are completely uninteresting to me; stories for the sake of sensationalism and shock value. "Fear this!" "Be angry at this!" "Believe this!" "Worry about this!"

My answer to that: NO. I will not.

I will, however, take great delight, empathy, love, inspiration, and raucous laughter from my fellow human beings; reveling in their triumphs, failures, stories, pleas, observations, and griefs. Because we're all a lot more alike than we'll ever care to admit.

I hope you like them too.

Oh ... and just a little something because I love you:



You're welcome.

Tuesday, February 23, 2010

National Pride vs. Human Interest

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It's been made abundantly clear to me over the past few days, that the men in my life take some issue with the fact that I've been cheering for Canada. Mind you, these are American AND Canadian men. While I think it's highly charming that both nationalities of Y chromosomes are having the same problem (so cute!), I find myself on the losing end. I am the "traitor" who hates my country, who's a poser, who has no national pride.

Conversely, the women don't have a problem with this at all. In fact, even the most die-hard of my sports-loving ladies totally understands my compulsions to root for Canada.

It's occurred to me that this might be a gender differential; that maybe men, trained to love, fight, and take pride in their country - for them, that's the only option. Whereas women seem to have a heavy interest in the human interest; the stories behind the individuals or even countries who play the games.

In short, Women will root for Kazakhstan, just because they're under represented. Men will not. Women are more likely to cheer on China, who doesn't have a lot of Winter Olympic experience, but seem to be trying their darndest to master Winter sports. Men will not. Women are okay with wanting Canada to win the gold in the sport they invented on home ice. And Men ... remain surprised and dismayed that such a heinous suggestion could ever be MADE!!!! But I'm not bitter.

Okay, yes I am. I have the right to cheer for anyone I want to, damnit - be it an under-dog, a sob-story, or the proper recognition for the country who created the best game in the world. I have the right to cheer for multiple countries ... at the SAME TIME if I want! And it doesn't make me an unpatriotic poser who's just rooting for her girlfriend's country. I actually have reasons for why I'm cheering for who (and what) I'm cheering for, and FRAK YOU if you don't like it!!

*ahem*

I'm better now.

*picks up soap box, collects toys, and goes home.*
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