Linda Harvey, founder of the website and LGBT bullying primer Mission: America has a book out (that even Amazon won’t carry) which claims that gay people are closeted heterosexuals. Yes, her rather extreme form of GDS presents as the belief that gay people simply don’t exist. “The reality is, no one is a homosexual and everyone is a heterosexual.” I would like to state for the record that I personally am a card carrying, power bottoming, Pride marching, gym and body obsessing, one-time suicide contemplating, occasional body hair clipping, Beyoncé lip synching, overpriced underwear buying, obscure musical theatre referencing, Karen Walker quoting, interested in professional sports only if there’s a hot guy wearing tight pants watching, Barbra Streisand worshiping, man marrying, Oscar dress snarking, cock sucking homosexual queer queen [continue reading...]
Juan Pablo, “star” of ABC’s The Bachelor, was recently asked whether he thought a dating reality show featuring a gay or bisexual bachelor was a good idea.
“No…I respect [gay people]…” (You know there’s a but coming, right?) “…but…” (Uh-oh.) “…honestly, I don’t think it’s a good example for kids.” (As I pointed out in an earlier post, one of most common symptoms of GDS is the stripping of words from their meaning. JP respects gay people, he just doesn’t want children exposed to our filthy lives.) “Now there is fathers having kids and all that, and it is hard for me to understand…” (I feel that a lot of things are hard for JP [continue reading...]
There are a few things that have been going on over here in Jersey during the Christie years that have driven me absolutely insane. Actually, they’re not going on over here in Jersey, they’re going on in the media’s blind spot to my governor.
The other day I watched Governor Christie at his lengthy press conference. In the interest of full disclosure, I must admit that I didn’t make it through the entire thing. Nearly two hours of watching someone explain why they deserve to be first person on the Titanic’s dinghies is a long time. We got it. You didn’t know. You just heard. You were working out. (Not for nothin’, am I the only person who thought that remark was a particularly overworked piece of political theatre ~ wedged in there like a nun at [continue reading...]
Mazel tov on coming out! I am a firm believer in the fact that coming out of the closet is the single most powerful thing we can do to end the prejudice, violence and inequality that the LGBT community faces. And when we happen to be in the public eye, coming out, publicly, is all the more important. Congratulations, and thank you.
What a wonderful and brave decision you made to come out of the closet regarding your illness. To show it, in detail and unvarnished. You clearly thought it was important to tell this very human, very vulnerable, frightening and painful story. You allowed yourself to be seen in the grips of something eating away at your body, ravaging it. You showed us the war you waged to bring it back to health. The images [continue reading...]
Yesterday the internet blew up over ignorant comments made by an ignorant man who happens to be on a tv show and is therefore deemed worthy of having his opinions amplified. Some argue that we should simply ignore his comments. I disagree. Responding to hatred with silence is not the appropriate path in a world where violence against the LGBT community, LGBT teen suicide and LGBT teen homelessness are horrifically run of the mill. I don’t believe we are yet at the place where we can relax into a position of “so and so’s an idiot so why are we paying attention.” We’re paying attention because a lot of people still believe such things, and a lot of people act on them. Every time an idiot speaks, we must speak back.
Today is National Coming Out Day and I have a message for you: I am gay, and I am boring. I have led a productive, yet unremarkable life. I share my unremarkable life with my husband, whom I had to marry in another state. We are not front page kinds of people. TMZ has never called me. Unless something truly unexpected happens between now and the end of my life, my name will not grace the pages of our history books ~ certainly not if Texas has anything to do with it.
I am a performer, writer, activist ~ someone forever “following my passion” and “searching for my place in the world.” After many successful years as a dancer, I hung up my jazz sneakers and began to search for a profession that could sustain [continue reading...]
If it has, can someone please send me a copy so I can read it, study it, highlight it, earmark it, quote its über-inspirational passages and use my status updates to proselytize on Facebook? Please?
Because I am not good at this. Recovery requires a patience that I don’t naturally possess and I need a guide ~ or shaman ~ some form of spiritual presence to lead me to a hidden trough of patience and acceptance; balance and harmony. You see, my natural tendency is to scream and rage and pout. And left to my own devices I will begin each screaming, raging, pouting sentence with “But I WAAAAAAANT…..!!!!!!”
It’s not a good look on a 41 year old.
Three weeks after my surgery [continue reading...]
I’m being tortured by a piece of blue foam. I understand that it couldn’t possibly look any more innocuous ~ a blue foam wedge with four straps attached to it that must be kept between my legs at all times, including when I’m asleep ~ and when I was told that I would have to “wear” it constantly post-surgery, I nodded a nod of sweet, blind ignorance. I thoughtlessly smiled and blank-stared my understanding and acquiescence. I heard the words, but they had yet to be tethered to actual meanings; definitions. What I acknowledged and agreed to was just sound. Since then, those sounds have morphed into experience, and that once seemingly harmless blue foam wedge has become an instrument of torture powerful enough to reach down into the deepest layer of [continue reading...]
It is a big deal.
Rick & I are going into NYC today. To get married. For the fifth time. But today will be our first “marriage.”
It didn’t start out feeling special. This time around was solely to ensure that we are protected by a “we” bubble when I go into the hospital next week. The thought that someone might bar Rick from my room, ignore him or treat him as some kind of stranger should a decision need to be made on my behalf, was beyond hideous. I needed to know that all who come in contact with us know who he is and treat him accordingly.
This time around, the fifth time around, was not for love. It was for comfort; for protection.
No big deal. We’ve done [continue reading...]
Recently I was telling an acquaintance that Rick and I had gone in to NYC to get a marriage license and that next week we would be trekking back in to seal the deal. I explained that we’re doing it now because I want to be married before my surgery. Married. Not domestically partnered. Not civilly unioned. Not any of the lesser options we’ve been forced over the course of our relationship to accept because they were what was available to us at the time. Now that DOMA is dead, and since I’m having my surgery in New York (where marriage equality has been the law of the land for over two years and where, as far as I can tell, Western civilization has yet to crumble, at least not any more than it [continue reading...]