"Maybe you just haven't met the right guy/girl" really isn't all that offensive of a statement.
After all – by all technicality –, this could very well be true. Given all the millions upon millions of people in the world, perhaps you just haven't met the right one to change your mind or the one who might be the exception. I've more than a handful of friends for whom that's been the case.
No, the phrase itself is not offensive. It's the repetition.
While only the truly non-homophobic may react with calm, mom may simply react with surprise upon the first suggestion that what she might really enjoy is the disregard for stopping within the first half-hour and the attention to female pleasure in a lesbian orgy. And dad may be confused when you first note that nothing would be more of a flexing of masculinity than a sausage fest with the guys. But, eh, kids say the darndest things.
But that's just the start; soon you're responding to every time mom mentions that one of the girls in the movie you're watching is so pretty with, "So, you've been considering the option." Or when dad complains about not being able to watch football in peace, you mention – with a smirk – that there's always an alternative.
And maybe there is. Maybe it would work. But maybe dad and mom are happy, in spite of the differences with each other. Or, if your parents are separated, maybe mom and dad are fairly certain that they don't have much interest in the same sex. Or maybe, after a lifetime of dating the opposite sex, they don't want to put such a gigantic effort into simply trying to see if something could work there or if they might happen to find that very small exception out of the mass of people in this world. Or maybe they just want the choice to say, "No, I don't want to and so I won't because I can make decisions about my own life as a free and autonomous person," (note: a verbatim sentence either of your parents might actually say).
Or any other myriad of reasons. And so they're a little irritated by the 200th time you mention at Thanksgiving dinner in front of grandma that maybe they just haven't found the right guy or gal yet. And, in spite of having little interest in changing what they've always done, they really shouldn't give up so easily on this task.
After all, how the Hell should they know if they've never even been with a girl or guy?
We went to the Pride Festival in Chicago today. I would have preferred to go to the parade but my sister's going down to Northwestern for a summer program on the same day so we couldn't. And she's never been to a pride event so, of course, I wasn't going to be having any of that (for the record, she wanted to go; I was just more than happy to aid).
On the way back, I happened to see Ariel in Union Station; I'll come back to this.
About a week or so ago, I happened to run into Joan. There's a principle difference between Joan and Ariel in relation to me, simply by virtue of history. I met Ariel when she was doing Operation Obvious (a campaign to recognize the LGBT movement as the next civil rights movement of our time). She eventually joined The Wit (the high school's literary magazine), which I was also on. I believe she was two years under me and joined The Wit her Sophomore year so, clearly, our interaction was not extensive. That being said, she's a fantastically nice person and someone who I have to admire for the conviction of her beliefs and willingness to pursue them.
Joan, on the other hand, I met through Shane. I haven't really kept in touch with Shane but I took to Joan. I suppose that it always struck me as odd because she was a Freshman during my Senior and I didn't get to know many (a year simply isn't much time, etc.). Perhaps in part because her friends and my friends tended to overlap, I spent a decent amount of time hanging out with Joan my last year of high school and I'm really rather fond of her.
I ran into Joan at a restaurant the family and I were going to. I sort of was walking past – thinking to myself, "Does that girl look familiar?" – and did a double take when I realized it was Joan. She was with someone and I was with the family so there really wasn't much room for catching up. I really should send her a message sometime, in spite of my recent reclusiveness. I know it's not very likely to blossom into a lifelong best friendship or even go far beyond that message (largely my own invertedness and social awkwardness to blame) but I'll probably do it because it's important to let people know they're valued. Even if my close ring of five or less best friends is my constant in life, that certainly doesn't mean those friends I'm less close with aren't very important to me.
In any case, I mention this because, when I saw Ariel today, I was struck by this very particular feeling/thought. The reason I bring up Joan (other than to mention that I was really glad to see her; it's been an…odd year) is that I didn't have the same reaction. I was glad to see Joan but seeing Ariel was markedly different.
While I would certainly like to know Ariel better, I think a good description of us would be acquaintances (which is not something trivial to me, as I've covered before here). But I would certainly describe Joan and I as friends; so, if that was what triggered the reaction, it would have occurred with seeing Joan as well.
While we were at the pride festival, I remember just feeling…comfortable. Safe. It was particularly interesting since my dad was there but maybe it just added to that feeling that I was entering a different community. Memories of the QSU kept coming to me. A girl that "looked like" a lesbian handed me a flyer on becoming a vegan. The guys behind the bar were down to just their underwear. a drag performer was performing on one of the stages. And I'm not trying to say that these groups are in some way fixed (there were women down to just their underwear there as well) but there was familiarity there. And, for whatever flaws I've found or find in my Queer community (whether they're correct or not), I felt safe. Certainly welcomed but also safe. In some ways, it was better than the parade. Sure, there were commercial vendors here as well but, outside of the food, there were causes that directly related to our community here and people who cared about them (and about us) behind those booths and fighting for them.
While I don't quite understand it in total, it would seem that community is actually really important to me, verging on dependent to my well being. While, particularly in relation to discussing and making sense of mental illness, I've become more and more of a fan of the idea of Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs as time goes on, my own social interactions seem to follow a similar trend. When I'm not doing well, I rescind into myself, hard. Only those who are closest to me do I let in, at times only keeping in touch sparing (sometimes cutting off even them). When I feel more comfortable, I'm far more willing to let others in. But the thing is, a true community doesn't just include your closest friends. It includes your friends and it includes your acquaintances.
I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm always very happy to see those acquaintances very much. And it's not just that I like people: people in general take importance for me and even those who I don't spend much time with are important to me. Ariel is someone I think highly of and there will always be the fact that I met her through The Wit, a group that was very important to me. I'm not going to have the same reaction seeing her as I might if I saw Laila unexpectedly but she's important to me. I feel like I'm repeating myself but I like to be thorough.
My point I am slowly hinting towards is that my reaction, upon seeing Ariel, was a sense of community. I guess I used to wonder, back in high school when – wading through the masses of 5,000 students – we would often stop a million times in the halls saying hello enough times that we barely got through a conversation with the person we were walking with, why we did it. I mean, take Sarah Greenawalt. I always liked Sarah (there was a warmness she always greeted me with which I always appreciated) but our relationship didn't extend beyond a similar friendbase (or at least history) and seeing her in the hall from time to time. I don't see Sarah anymore and am likely not to (wouldn't mind seeing her again one near bit but it's not very likely). So…what was the point (alright, this is a hilarious question because I never think meeting or getting to know any person is ever a waste of time by any measurement; the question doesn't even deserve a response, in my mind; not to mention, like I said, I rather like Sarah as a person)?
I guess it goes without saying that I never really look at anyone I just meet with the expectation of remaining at the level with them forever. With all people, I sincerely want to get to know them better and become best buds with them. But, obviously, that level of friendship doesn't exist with all people at all times. So, while Laila is certainly of more importance to me (I severely don't like the phrasing of that but I'm struggling for a better one) than Sarah, Sarah isn't unimportant (just as I expect I'm "less important" to Sarah in comparison to others Sarah is closer with and has a more extensive history with). Does that make sense?
So, when I saw Ariel today, there was more than just a "Oh! Ariel; I haven't seen her in ages. I should most definitely say hello." moment (this plan went horridly wrong, in the comedic way my life is good for; I spent most of the time in Union station trying to figure out if it was her without being creepy; funnily enough, this usually works just in time in spite of my sluggishness and avoids approaching people that actually just happen to look exceedingly similar to the people I know. This time, though, our train arrived before I said hello. In spite of this, we wound up in the same car anyway. After more trying to make sure it was her – and trying not to look creepy –, I left a comment on her Facebook saying I thought I saw her and wanted to see how she's been. She asks where I am; by the time I respond, she's fallen asleep. And she eventually gets off at her spot. Probably the most successful two hours of my life and best "catching up" scenario I've had).
There was this distinct jolt of community, if that makes sense. And it wasn't just that she was probably in Chicago for the pride festival as well. It was that sense of my home state, the state of my community in high school, where I can still run into a large gamut of people I know. I mean, I didn't get to know Ariel that well in high school (a shame, as I've said, but so ist das leben). And yet, in that same way I'd pass by Sarah in the hall and stop and ask how she's been and what she's up to despite our otherwise limited interaction, I was going (to attempt and fail) to stop by and say hello to Ariel. And it was like, for the first time in a long while, I had a full sense of a community again. Not raggedly thrusting all my weight onto my close friends to pull me forward or silently licking my wounds in the dark and just biding recovery: walking through those halls and having the energy to pay attention to those people who don't loom as large in my life but who are, none the less, very important to me.
I told Antal once that I had realized that I don't seem to fully ingratiate to a community until about four to five years (I think high school was a sped up process, in part thanks to the phenomenal class of '09). I'm not entirely sure what it is; maybe it's just that sense of safety in knowing that I'm amongst people I like and who like me; maybe it's that same connectedness and support I felt walking amongst the pride festival, knowing that – to some degree – we all supported each other and cared about each other even though we didn't really know each other (this actually seems to imply a larger level of separation between myself and Sarah and Ariel than I want to imply but hopefully it gives an idea of what I'm getting at). I don't know.
This isn't a thread that I've made full sense of yet. I don't know what the relevance is of community to me (though I'm fairly certain it has relation to my feelings about people and humanity and my own bizarre need for physicality in spite of my driving tendency to isolate myself; things I shall have to cover at a later time). There's a lot here that I'm not entirely certain about but I've been chewing these ideas and concept for a while. They're coming to slow solidity but they're odd because I'm not used to discovering such fundamental aspects of myself this far into my life.
On a last note (to be honest, I'm not sure if it's related), I've just never understood not wanting to get to know people. It's such a universalizing expectation (so I don't entirely like holding it) but, on a really fundamental level, I don't understand that concept. How do you meet people and not want to know more? How do you not consider it a rare privilege for someone to share parts of their life with you? My immediate reaction is to ask that they continue. My instinct is to throw aside whatever it is I had (something I haven't been entirely the best at doing recently, as my post regarding Amanda noted) to pay attention. How is it not to care and worry and put first? That isn't explaining it right. I can understand how one might not do those last listed three things on accident; what I mean is, how can your reaction to a person not be to want to know more and not be elation at a return of that interest? I suppose that sounds weird until you consider that the whole of our culture pretty much revolves around human connection. Even if it's with just one person, we want human connection. I just want to meet and celebrate every person I meet for every bit of uniqueness they possess. And I don't know why, exactly. I mean, I can come up with a logical defense, obviously. I think I started with that and this emotional reaction has gotten stronger over the years (I think that's largely because it took time to have deeper human connections that, without, I couldn't have ever realized were possible and, thus, have particular emotional responses). But I've always had a strong love for people that I sort of just assumed everyone shared. Not to say people can't be shit. I've known quite a few. But knowing some of the amazing, spell-binding people that I have (and the passion they have and the aspirations and potential abilities and care that they can command) – how do people not see the astounding potential in everyone they meet?
It's not quite related but it's a thought I've been having so I'm tacking it on the end here. While actually trying to orchestrate such a thing would probably never run smoothly (and potentially be astoundingly awkward for all involved), I'd like to see what might happen if all my exes were to meet and get to know each other for a day (that's a nicer way of saying it instead of "plop them all into a room and tell them, "Interact!") – and not just the ones I liked (though I actually would like all the exes that I truly consider to be amazing people to meet each other simply because such phenomenal people deserve to meet other such phenomenal and life-changing people like themselves).
No, I'd like all of them to meet each other because I'd be interested to know what I was to them. Was I sweet? Was I mean? Was I too sarcastic? But, more importantly, was I supportive? Was I helpful? Or was I destructive? Careless? Flippant? Cruel? Did I give them memories worth keeping, in spite of whatever fallout may've occured? Did I give them anything?
The Distress of the Privileged ¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
In a memorable scene from the 1998 film Pleasantville (in which two 1998 teen-agers are transported into the black-and-white world of a 1950s TV show), the father of the TV-perfect Parker family returns from work and says the magic words “Honey, I’m home!”, expecting them to conjure up a smiling wife, adorable children, and dinner on the table.
This time, though, it doesn’t work. No wife, no kids, no food. Confused, he repeats the invocation, as if he must have said it wrong. After searching the house, he wanders out into the rain and plaintively questions this strangely malfunctioning Universe: “Where’s my dinner?”
Privileged distress. I’m not bringing this up just to discuss old movies. As the culture evolves, people who benefitted from the old ways invariably see themselves as victims of change. The world used to fit them like a glove, but it no longer does. Increasingly, they find themselves in unfamiliar situations that feel unfair or even unsafe. Their concerns used to take center stage, but now they must compete with the formerly invisible concerns of others.
If you are one of the newly-visible others, this all sounds whiny compared to the problems you face every day. It’s tempting to blast through such privileged resistance with anger and insult.
Tempting, but also, I think, a mistake. The privileged are still privileged enough to foment a counter-revolution, if their frustrated sense of entitlement hardens.
So I think it’s worthwhile to spend a minute or two looking at the world from George Parker’s point of view: He’s a good 1950s TV father. He never set out to be the bad guy. He never meant to stifle his wife’s humanity or enforce a dull conformity on his kids. Nobody ever asked him whether the world should be black-and-white; it just was.
George never demanded a privileged role, he just uncritically accepted the role society assigned him and played it to the best of his ability. And now suddenly that society isn’t working for the people he loves, and they’re blaming him.
It seems so unfair. He doesn’t want anybody to be unhappy. He just wants dinner.
Levels of distress. But even as we accept the reality of George’s privileged-white-male distress, we need to hold on to the understanding that the less privileged citizens of Pleasantville are distressed in an entirely different way. (Margaret Atwood is supposed to have summed up the gender power-differential like this: “Men are afraid women will laugh at them. Women are afraid men will kill them.”)
George deserves compassion, but his until-recently-ideal housewife Betty Parker (and the other characters assigned subservient roles) deserves justice. George and Betty’s claims are not equivalent, and if we treat them the same way, we do Betty an injustice.
Tolerating Dan Cathy. Now let’s look at a more recent case from real life.
One of the best things to come out of July’s Chick-fil-A brouhaha was a series of posts on the Owldolatrous blog, in which a gay man (Wayne Self) did his best to wrangle the distress of the privileged.
The privileged in this case are represented by Chick-fil-A president Dan Cathy, who stirred up a hornet’s nest when he denounced the “prideful, arrogant attitude” of those who support same-sex marriage, saying that they “are inviting God’s judgment on our nation”.
His comments drew attention to the millions that Chick-fil-A’s founding family has contributed to anti-gay organizations, and led to calls for a boycott of their restaurants.
To which his defenders responded: Is tolerance a one-way street? Cathy was just expressing the genuine beliefs of his faith. As an American, he has freedom of speech and freedom of religion. Why can’t gays and their supporters respect that?
“Nothing mutual about it.” Self starts his post by acknowledging Cathy’s distress, but refusing to accept it as equivalent to his own. Cathy is suffering because people are saying bad things about him and refusing to buy his sandwiches. Meanwhile, 29 states (including Self’s home state of Louisiana) let employers fire gays for being gay. There are 75 countries Self and his partner can’t safely visit, because homosexuality is illegal and (in some of them) punishable by death.
The Cathy family has given $5 million to organizations that work to maintain this state of oppression. Self comments:
This isn’t about mutual tolerance because there’s nothing mutual about it. If we agree to disagree on this issue, you walk away a full member of this society and I don’t. There is no “live and let live” on this issue because Dan Cathy is spending millions to very specifically NOT let me live. I’m not trying to do that to him.
Christian push-back. That post got over a million page views and (at last count) 1595 comments, including some push-back from conservative Christians. Self’s follow-up responded to one commenter who wrote that he supported Chick-fil-A as
[a] company with a founder who speaks for what seems to be the minority these days.
In other words, I specifically feel BASHED by the general media and liberal establishment and gay activists for simply being a Bible-believing Christian. From TV shows, movies, mainstream news and music, so much is Intolerance of my conservative beliefs. I am labeled a HOMOPHOBIC and a HATER. … I neither fear nor hate homosexuals.
Self brings in a blog post by Bristol Palin, in which she scoffs at an interviewer’s implication that she might refuse to have a gay partner on “Dancing With the Stars”.
In their simplistic minds, the fact that I’m a Christian, that I believe in God’s plan for marriage, means that I must hate gays and must hate to even be in their presence. Well, they were right about one thing: there was hate in that media room, but the hate was theirs, not mine.
… To the Left, “tolerance” means agreeing with them on, well, everything. To me, tolerance means learning to live and work with each other when we don’t agree – and won’t ever agree.
Like Bristol Palin, Self’s commenter sees himself as the victim of bigotry. He isn’t aware of hating anybody. He just wants to preserve the world he grew up in, and can’t be bothered to picture how others suffer in that world.
He wants dinner.
Aesop II. Self answers with a story: a sequel to the Aesop fable of the mouse who saves a lion.
[A story is] the only way I know to address some of these things without resorting to words that hurt or offend, or shut down discussion.
Aesop’s tale ends with the mouse and the lion as friends, but Self notes that they are still not equal: The Lion is King of the Jungle and the Mouse … is a mouse.
In Self’s sequel, the Lion hosts the Kingdom Ball, to which mice are never invited, because they disgust many of the larger animals. Nothing personal, the Lion explains to his friend, it’s just the way things are.
At this point, Self breaks out of the story to explain why (in spite of the fact that his commenter feels “BASHED by the general media and liberal establishment”) he is casting conservative Christians as the Lion and gays as the Mouse: It is not illegal to be a Christian in any state. You can’t be fired for Christianity. Christians may feel bashed by criticism, but gays get literally bashed by hate crimes. Christians may feel like people are trying to silence them, but the Tennessee legislature debated a bill making it illegal to say the word gay in public schools. (The senate passed it.)
There is a vast difference between being told you’re superstitious or old-fashioned and being told you’re an abomination that doesn’t deserve to live. There’s a vast difference between being told you’re acting hateful and being told God hates you.
I’ve been gay and Christian all my life. Trust me: Christian is easier. It’s not even close.
Leonine distress. But does the Lion have reason to be annoyed with the Mouse? Of course. The Mouse is making trouble by asking to go where he’s not wanted. The Mouse is “prideful” for expecting the rules to change to suit him. However, Self admits that the Lion probably doesn’t hate or fear the Mouse.
I don’t think you hate me. I certainly don’t think you’re afraid of me. Neither is Bristol Palin. She probably even has LGBT people she calls friends. She just disagrees with them about whether they should be invited to the party (the party, in this case, being marriage).
But here’s the problem: the basis of that disagreement is her belief that her relationships are intrinsically better than ours.
There’s a word for this type of statement: supremacist.
Ah, now we get to “words that hurt or offend”. Here’s what he means by it:
Supremacy is the habit of believing or acting as if your life, your love, your culture, your self has more intrinsic worth than those of people who differ from you.
Self sees a supremacist attitude in the commenter’s
sense of comfort with yourself as an appropriate judge of my choices, ideas, or behaviors, … unwillingness to appreciate the inherent inequality in a debate where I have to ask you for equality … [and] unwillingness to acknowledge the stake that you have have in your feeling of superiority rather than blame it on God.
[…]Now let’s finish the fable: Uninvited, the Mouse crashes the party. The shocked guests go silent, the Lion is furious, and the ensuing argument leads to violence: The Lion chucks the Mouse out the window, ending both the party and the friendship.
The lesson: Supremacy itself isn’t hate. You may even have affection for the person you feel superior to. But supremacy contains the seeds of hate.
Supremacy turns to hate when the feeling of innate superiority is openly challenged. … Supremacy is why you and Bristol Palin have more outrage at your own inconvenience than at the legitimate oppression of others.
We can talk about the subjugation of women later, honey. Where’s my dinner?
George Parker’s choices. All his life, George has tried to be a good guy by the lights of his society. But society has changed and he hasn’t, so he isn’t seen as a good guy any more. He feels terrible about that, but what can he do?
One possibility: Maybe he could learn to be a good guy by the lights of this new society. It would be hard. He’d have to give up some of his privileges. He’d have to examine his habits to see which ones embody assumptions of supremacy. He’d have to learn how to see the world through the eyes of others, rather than just assume that they will play their designated social roles. Early on, he would probably make a lot of mistakes and his former inferiors would correct him. It would be embarrassing.
But there is an alternative: counter-revolution. George could decide that his habits, his expectations, and the society they fit are RIGHT, and this new society is WRONG. If he joined with the other fathers (and right-thinking mothers like the one in the poster) of Pleasantville, maybe they could force everyone else back into their traditional roles.
Which choice he makes will depend largely on the other characters. If they aren’t firm in their convictions, the counter-revolution may seem easy. (“There, there, honey. I know you’re upset. But be reasonable.”) But if their resentment is implacable, becoming a good guy in the new world may seem impossible.
[…]Confronting this distress is tricky, because neither acceptance nor rejection is quite right. The distress is usually very real, so rejecting it outright just marks you as closed-minded and unsympathetic. It never works to ask others for empathy without offering it back to them.
At the same time, my straight-white-male sunburn can’t be allowed to compete on equal terms with your heart attack. To me, it may seem fair to flip a coin for the first available ambulance, but it really isn’t. Don’t try to tell me my burn doesn’t hurt, but don’t consent to the coin-flip.
"In The Goonies, when Mikey throws away his inhaler, we're supposed to understand that he's a stronger person for not needing it. What it's really showing is that Mikey is going to end up in the hospital if he doesn't get a replacement soon, because asthma is a goddamn medical condition."
"It's been literal seconds since anyone mentioned a penis. To hell with movies."
This is a really simple matter so I'll try to be brief (if I actually hold that capability). While I hate to discount anyone's personal experience (the first rule of understanding is acknowledging there are other experiences beyond the ones you're familiar with; Mr. Lopez's full testimony can be found here: http://www.thepublicdiscourse.com/2012/08/6065), I'm going to assume that none of you are stupid and just acknowledge out the gate that articles such as these are used to discredit the notion of gay marriage (note my lack of scare quotes around the word marriage, unlike the article).
However, the first point of criticism is the article's (and Mr. Lopez's testimony's) display of all the hallmarks of a piece written to fit a particular viewpoint (which often, in turn, defies lived experience). How?
There's the never-failing-to-appear point that such behavior leads "one down a sodden path to self-medication in the form of alcoholism, drugs, gambling, antisocial behavior, and irresponsible sex". I once read an article from some site like Yahoo about a mother who (while dealing with her son's decent into homosexuality before he came back to his senses and "became" straight again) would have to tape her eyes shut when she went to bed at night because she cried so much (I don't believe such an endeavor would actually work…). Nothing like sensationalism to drive a point across.
On that note, there's that hallmark expression of Mr. Lopez descending into the "gay underworld". Sounds scary. Particularly since it preys upon fears of a secretive society of homosexuals that are plotting to overtake your safe and cozy straight life (note that it also plays the card of the Other by literally creating another world of separation from what Mr. Lopez consider's normal). Of course, this is ridiculous. Really, underworld? Boy's Town in Chicago is literally just a 45 minute drive away for me. I've gone down there every pride parade I've attended. Friends of mine in high school have gone down there. There's nothing hidden or scary.
There's the claim that being raised by two women rendered Mr. Lopez to having "very few recognizable social cues to offer potential male or female friends, since I was neither confident nor sensitive to others". Apparently the Lopez's didn't have T. V.s in their household. Or never left the house, for that matter. And apparently Mr. Lopez didn't go to school. But, you know what, I can somewhat understand. I flounder completely at social cues to give (as I've mentioned more than enough times on this Xanga) and find meeting (let alone befriending) other people difficult. It's not easy. But it's not life-ending.
Then there's also this peculiar paragraph:
Those who are 100-percent gay may view bisexuals with a mix of disgust and envy. Bisexual parents threaten the core of the LGBT parenting narrative—we do have a choice to live as gay or straight, and we do have to decide the gender configuration of the household in which our children will grow up. While some gays see bisexuality as an easier position, the fact is that bisexual parents bear a more painful weight on their shoulders. Unlike homosexuals, we cannot write off our decisions as things forced on us by nature. We have no choice but to take responsibility for what we do as parents, and live with the guilt, regret, and self-criticism forever.
"Okay, alright, science says that being gay isn't a choice. Hmm, well, if we make the argument that those who have the choice to partake happily in heterosexual acts ought to [using the same evidence that's used when arguing that being gay is a choice, no less] then we still kinda win!" Honestly, you don't decide to live as gay or straight as a bisexual; just because I date mostly girls doesn't mean I live as a straight person. It's still trying to fit into a binary understanding of sexuality.
But what makes the entire affair just hilarious is how disconnected from reality it is.
I'm sorry that discovering you're bisexual caused you to run into the "gay underworld" and all the drugs and sex it must have contained (because gay people are inseperable from drugs and sex in these types of narratives). I'm bisexual too and – oh, wait, I'm still a virgin and I've never used illegal drugs, ever. I guess I just have self-control.
Hey, look, Mr. Wahls above was raised by two women too. Except he looks rather well adjusted, doesn't he?
Or I could appeal to my own life experiences and the people I've known raised in gay/bi households. People who were perfectly well adjusted and had plenty of friends.
Or when a friend of mine, trying to appeal to how the past or the 50s (I forget which) was better, asked me if we had any decent male role-models these days. For the longest time, I didn't know how to formulate a reply. Here's why: what the Hell would that entail‽ Perhaps it's a generational gap but I can't begin to formulate how being neither confident nor sensitive would be a disability to getting to know a person. And, hence, I can't begin to figure out what it would mean to be, specifically, a male role-model since men (at least when I was growing up, in my traditional heterosexual household) could do anything they pleased. I know, I shouldn't be surprised but I always am whenever anyone lends actual legitimacy to the notion of gender roles (the family was watching a movie about Shakespeare the other day when my mother exclaims, "The king is wearing women's shoes!" This shift in gender roles is atrocious and I think we should all go back to the good old days when men wore feminine shoes, like is proper and natural؟).
And, look, honestly, I am truly sorry if Mr. Lopez had a difficult time in his life because, for him specifically, he was raised by two women. I'm sorry that society was so cruel as to make life difficult for him just because he didn't fit their expectations. I imagine such worries plagued the first children of interracial marriages.
But we should work to make society more understanding rather than bending to the current whims of today's society and, in turn, trying to make permanent its cruelties. Such behavior, even if under the guise of being practical or realistic, just continues to hurt people in the end.
Frank Kameny is dead.
It's going to be one of those awkward days where I'll spend the entirety in mourning and no one or near to know one will even be aware it has happened.
One of the greatest and most steadfast pioneering advocates for the gay rights movement, Frank Kameny, died on Tuesday, October 11 at his home in Washington, D.C. He was 86. He appears to have died of natural causes. According to the Washington Blade:
Timothy Clark, Kameny’s tenant, said he found Kameny unconscious and unresponsive in his bed shortly after 5 p.m. on Tuesday. Clark called 911 police emergency and rescue workers determined that Kameny had passed away earlier, most likely in his sleep. Clark said he had spoken with Kameny shortly before midnight on the previous day and Kameny didn’t seem to be in distress.
Kameny was born on May 21, 1925 in New York City. He is a World War II veteran, having seen combat in Europe. After the war, Kameny earned a doctorate in astronomy from Harvard University and went to work for the Army Map service as an astronomer. He became a gay rights activist when he was fired by the Army in 1957 when they learned he was gay. At that time, gay people were prohibited from Federal employment due to a 1953 Executive order by President Eisenhower. In Joyce Murdoch and Deb Price’s book, Courting Justice: Gay Men And Lesbians V. The Supreme Court, Frank called his 1957 firing the spark which energized his long dedication to securing equality for all LGBT people:
“I just couldn’t walk away,” recalled Frank Kameny, a brilliant Harvard-educated astronomer who became nearly destitute after being fired from his government job in 1957. The phrase echoed through many interviews with gay people who fought against dreadful odds after losing a job, being embarrassed by a “sex crime” arrest or suffering some similar humiliation. “For the rest of my life, I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself,” Kameny added. “I would be dead of stomach ulcers by now. There’s simply a burning sense of justice.”
He immediately set about challenging the his firing and the federal ban, taking his case all the way up to the U.S. Supreme Court. Because he acts as his own attorney, he became the first known gay person to file a gay-related case before the high court. In his petition before the court, Kameny let loose his full rhetorical powers which would become a trademark throughout his life of activism:
…the government’s policies…are a stench in the nostrils of decent people, an offense against morality, an abandonment of reason, an affront to human dignity, an improper restraint upon proper freedom and liberty, a disgrace to any civilized society, and a violation of all that this nation stands for.
Jack Nichols, Frank Kameny, and other members of the Washington Mattachine Society picketing the White House, April, 1965.
Kameny lost the case, but was undeterred. He, along with Jack Nichols, co-founded the Mattachine Society of Washington, D.C. The Mattachine Society elsewhere was know for being rather conservative in their tactics, but Kameny’s leadership of the Washington chapter brought an unprecedented boldness to gay activism. The Washington chapter organized the very first picket for gay rights in front of the White House on April 17, 1965, and that was followed by further pickets in front of the Pentagon, the Civil Service Commission, and, in cooperation with other East Coast activists, in front of Philadelphia’s City Hall.
Inspired by the civil rights movement’s slogan “Black is Beautiful,” Kameny coined the phrase “Gay Is Good.” That message may appear rather simple today, but it was a particularly significant slogan for 1968 when homosexuality was still considered both a mental illness and a criminal act. It was also a message that many gay people didn’t understand or fully believe themselves. Kameny didn’t just want to change how the laws treated gay people, he also wanted gay people to see themselves as fully equal to everyone else as people, deserving full equality not as a priveledge to be won but as a right earned at birth. In an email exchange with me in 2007, Frank reflected:
I’ve said, for a long time, that if I’m remembered for only one thing, I would like it to be for having coined “Gay is Good.” But never did I expect that that would make its way to the Smithsonian. I feel deeply contented.
When Washington D.C. was awarded a non-voting seat in the U.S. House of Representatives in 1971, Kameny became the first openly gay man to run for Congress. He lost that election, but went on to become the first openly gay member of the District of Columbia’s Human Rights Commission. Meanwhile, Kameny saw that the American Psychiatric Association’s listing of homosexuality as a mental disorder was the primary roadblock to full civil equality for gay people. He worked with other gay rights activists, principally Barbara Gittings, to convince the APA to remove homosexuality from that list. They were ultimately successful in 1973. In 1975, Kameny was also successful in getting the Civil Service Commission to drop their blanket ban on hiring gay people. Federal personnel officials “surrendered to me on July 3rd, 1975,” he recalled. “They called me up to tell me they were changing their policies to suit me. And that was the end of it.”
OPM Director John Berry delivers an official apology to Frank Kameny on behalf of the U.S. Government
In 2006, Kameny’s papers were donated to the Library of Congress, where they were catalogued and made available to the public. In 2008, his personal collection, including original picket signs from the 1965 protests and an original “Gay Is Good” button, were donated to the Smithsonian Institution. But in June, 2009, Kameny’s long years of activism finally came full circle. More than fifty years after his firing from the Army Map Service, Frank was invited to a special ceremony to receive a formal letter of apology from John Berry, the openly gay Director of the Office of Personnel Management, which is the organizational successor to the Civil Service Commission which had fired untold thousands of gay people. Kameny was also bestowed the Teddy Roosevelt Award, the department’s highest honor. Upon receiving the apology, Frank Kameny tearfully replied, “Apology accepted.”
Worked a booth at the county fair today. I know I've said it before, but I feel the need to say it again – public displays of religiosity completely unnerve me.
I could tell you about the Catholic booth, in which one of those staffing the booth told me as I was leaving, "Stay righteous and stay Catholic; we wanna be sure to get you into Heaven." I could also tell you about how overly un-confrontational that I am, seeing as all I could muster was smiling and walking away instead of bothering to point how overly offensive and pretentious such a statement is (though no Christian would dare admit such a statement could be that) or quote our shared catechism (337 LG 16; cf. DS 3866-3872: "Those also can attain to salvation who through no fault of their own do not know the Gospel of Christ or His Church, yet sincerely seek God and moved by grace strive by their deeds to do His will as it is known to them through the dictates of conscience. Nor does Divine Providence deny the helps necessary for salvation to those who, without blame on their part, have not yet arrived at an explicit knowledge of God and with His grace strive to live a good life.").
Or I could tell you how, as I stopped by the Gideons booth (you know, those guys who feel the need to shove Jesus down your throat even on your vacation so they fill every hotel with a bible), I was led on (after listing a desire for a portable New Testament, being a Catholic, and following the commandments as laid out by the Bible) to say that I had accepted Christ as my personal lord and savior before the guy would give me one of the pocket New Testaments. I guess they believe you have to convert before being able to grace your eyes upon the sacred words of Christ and Paul…? Great proselytizing plan, guys; but I despise proselytizing in nearly all forms so keep up having everyone of sane minds thinking you're obnoxious.
Instead, however, I'm going to watch my feel-good movie tonight, perhaps with a bowl of ice cream, while our dog sleeps next to me. If you guys haven't seen it yet, I highly suggest to watch it. It's called Show Me Love or Fucking Åmål in the original Swedish (it's a foreign film; Åmål is a small Swedish town). Links to watch the movie online are here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=spGW5p9p1c4.
I posted as a pulse but I post again: http://hellogiggles.com/princess-zach
I've been involved in just general Queer things since as far back as I can remember and even I'm shocked by the progress we've made.
A mainstream, well-known music group dedicating a whole music video directly to Queer kids? Where were you during my childhood! Finally New York (of all places; Stonewall, anyone?) gets marriage. And (while, admittedly, not on a large scale) sensible social change towards gender‽
Dear God, I love it.
I direly feel I must preface this with the fact that I love Connor as a friend. In some ways, he reminds me of Vikki in how close I've quickly gotten with him. I think he's incredibly intelligent and means best all the time. There's much I admire and respect about him. And, admittedly, I should have brought this up during the original conversation but I've always properly assessed things after the fact, plus to bring it up now would seem attacking and out of left field after the conversation. That said, this has been infuriating me for the longest time.
There's a conservative position that differs with the libertarian argument that we should remove marriage from the legal system, revert everyone to civil unions, and have the individual people apply whatever religious (or non-religious) significance to the event that they wish.
The position says, simply, that there is a stake that the government has in preserving heterosexual marriage. I wouldn't know the actual statistics but the argument simply goes that the nuclear unit is the most stable unit that continues stability and that stability permeates through the rest of society, holding a society together.
Now, my argument has always been one that the government should not concern itself with morality. It should be concerned with establishing a system that ensures that every individual can live their life without (generally physical) restriction or harm from any other individual. What Truth and morality is should be yours to determine on your own and to your own suiting - and this is most kept possible when others cannot restrict you (and vice versa, of course). Hence, you can believe in the tenets of the KKK as much as you want so long as that does not restrict me. For a less sensationalist example, you can believe whatever you want about street racing so long as you do not engage in it (because of the possibility to harm me with death or other near-fatal injuries). This could equally be applied to medical issues - you cannot reject medical treatment if that means you could become a health hazard for others you may come in contact with, no matter what you think of medicine. And so on.
Of course, this could get more complicated. After all, doesn't stability mean less restriction from others in the long run? While true, I'm sure we could argue we'd have more stability if we just all got along and agreed but I doubt anyone would be in support of repealing our First Amendment freedoms anytime soon.
I would actually go as far as to say that you would have more stability by following my rule. But that's neither here nor there and would take more attention that I really have the span for right now.
The point of this exhibition is that Connor would say that the government is not codifying morality by restricting marriage to heterosexual couples. He would say simply that that is the most stable form of relationship and it encourages procreation (which is further stabilizing in our world of overpopulation) and, thus, should be what we define marriage as. If others want to get something similar, they can get a civil union.
And, you know, I'll skip the ways that words change (including exactly what a marriage would have been seen as during the very start of our young nation, which was further verified by the Dred Scott case).
Instead, I want to focus on something he particularly pointed out in defending why people verified as impotent or not even wanting to have kids should be allowed to have marriage while homosexuals should not. His basic argument was that they still have more likelihood. His parents were said they would be unlikely to have kids and yet he was born.
So, somehow, the scarce chance of being able to procreate despite being to all known sources impotent trumps the assuredness of being able to adopt despite the inability to naturally procreate.
Now, now, understand - I am not being mocking (even though, even to me, that sentence appears as such; but I assure you I am not). Now, my argument as to why we don't need to revert to a libertarian model is that marriage actually should be suited to account for children. It shouldn't be a requirement, mind you, but marriage as it stands is a legal document that allows for benefits (and things such as the separation of property in death, etc.) that include the possibility of children that need to be accounted for that a civil union between my brother and I simply would not need to. It's a highly specialized legal agreement but a suitable one.
In short, I agree with Connor that marriage - as it is used socially and legally now - likely would account for children (though I would remark that it does not expect them).
So, basically, the argument that Connor (and others) put forth is that the remote possibility of higher likelihood for natural procreation trumps the millions of those out there who would happily take children to raise for a family even though they cannot naturally procreate. Furthermore, even if a couple are both paralyzed from the waist down and incapable of having children, they still should have the right to marry because they are a man and woman and, somehow, this is benefitial for further raising of our young in this world without a remote biblical argument.
Here is where I get emotional.
FUCKING BULLSHIT.
This is no argument to create stability but simply a means to dictate your own morality behind pseudo rationality.
Why?
Well, it so beautifully makes itself apparent in that impotence argument. While that impotent couple has a higher chance of having children - even if by a fraction - than a homosexual couple, that fraction shouldn't make a difference. Do you honestly think that two couples - one impotent and one gay - are going to be stopped from getting children (whether by adoption or otherwise) if they want it? You really are concerned with the nuclear family? Then you would allow the creation of millions of nuclear families that blatantly want to be given that they're fighting for the damn right to be married right now. Seeing as all studies point to no difference between children raised by gay couples versus those raised by heterosexual couples, it makes no sense to restrict the creation of so so many new nuclear families.
But, hypocrisy aside, want to know the simplest reason as to why this decision reeks of personal projection?
Because it doesn't affect him.
He's not the one who gets to be disallowed marriage. Going back to my original argument that the government should only be concerned with the non-restriction of its citizens, do we all remember why Brown v. Board of Education resulted in the case that it did? It was because, when given the choice between black and white dolls, all little girls given the choice for the court (white and black) chose white. Why? They were conditioned and taught that white was better. If you want to do that for your private school, fine - but not public institutions and certainly not government backed ones.
So, yes, it's quite easy to sit on back and say that - begging your pardon and, honestly, nothing against you - it just makes more sense for marriage to only be for heterosexuals.
Because, quite pleasantly, he doesn't have to deal with the rejection and frustration from those closest to him. He doesn't have to deal with the permeating feeling of being marked as "less than" that plenty of queer youth deal with daily.
And, while maybe the biggest concern for your gay friends is the lack of a dating culture at Williams, that's not what the case is for mine so please don't assume that's the extent of our misfortunes.
And, for the record, faggot still refers to gays and is still understood by nearly all (including those using is pejoratively) to mean such. I have far too many memories I'd like to forget associated with that word, thank you very much.
In Self’s sequel, the Lion hosts the Kingdom Ball, to which mice are never invited, because they disgust many of the larger animals. Nothing personal, the Lion explains to his friend, it’s just the way things are.
Kameny was born on May 21, 1925 in New York City. He is a World War II veteran, having seen combat in Europe. After the war, Kameny earned a doctorate in astronomy from Harvard University and went to work for the Army Map service as an astronomer. He became a gay rights activist when he was fired by the Army in 1957 when they learned he was gay. At that time, gay people were prohibited from Federal employment due to a 
, Frank called his 1957 firing the spark which energized his long dedication to securing equality for all LGBT people:
I’ve said, for a long time, that if I’m remembered for only one thing, I would like it to be for having coined “Gay is Good.” But never did I expect that that would make its way to the Smithsonian. I feel deeply contented.
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