I wasn't going to write this diary.
I was, if anything, going to post a satirical interview with Barack Obama, maybe fool a few people into thinking he'd actually talked to me.
Then my brother asked if I was going to do a serious diary for today, I asked why and realized what I should say.
Now I'm going to introduce you to some people and talk about some things that get ignored a lot.
A gay man is stabbed in the throat outside a gay bar in Kentucky. He's in critical condition. I and other members of the gay-straight alliance at a small university in southwest Virginia hear about this at our weekly meeting. I don't know today if he lived or died.
A gay man flies home from school at a prestigious private university in New England, coming out to his parents not long after his plane lands. He'd been filled with hope and confidence because of the pride alliance he'd joined. He tells his parents he's gay; they tell him he's not their son anymore; he kills himself.
Two meek girls at their first pride meeting at that southwest Virginia school say they're straight and they're from my home town. This is news to me, so I say, "What street?" The first is surprised, the second not so surprised. They grew up a mile from where I grew up. I never knew I had allies in that town -- not that it would have surprised me, but one never knows unless one knows, if that makes sense.
I'm at new student orientation with my then-fiancée (now estranged friend, I guess) and her mother. I have been looking and looking and looking for the gay-straight alliance at this school after I found it in a brochure, and I come to it after two hours of looking very much like I don't care. (Girl's mother officially doesn't know.) I find it and rush to the table, signing up to be e-mailed meeting times. "I've been looking for you guys for two hours," I say breathlessly. The two students staffing the table look like they've heard that way too many times -- and with students who managed to break away from unsuspecting parents.
A 12-year-old girl sits nervously on her family couch. Her father comes up to her with a concerned look. She gets more nervous. "Dad, I'm gay," she says fearfully. "I know," he says. "I was coming to remind you to take out the trash before it gets dark."
The 12-year-old positions a knife at her throat late one night.
If you have never been to a beginning-of-the-year pride meeting, it's ... actually, I can't compare it to anything else I've experienced.
It's not coming out, but it is. You're just coming out to a bunch of people you know (not suspect, know) will accept you.
It's not even coming out to the parent you know will accept you because you've gone to pride parades together.
(It's the only place I've ever been where "I'm [name], and I'm straight" is ... sort of disappointing, because hello, so is everyone else at school or they would be here, and we're looking for the gay people! I mean, love that you're here, but I was just thinking how cute you were, and now there goes my Friday night.)
For me, it was finally having an official place, with official people, where I could relax and be as queeny as I felt like being at the moment. (I can be pretty campy for a straight-seeming guy. I used to occasionally say "Poof," which made for some weird looks.)
For others, it was finally having an official place where they could say "I'm gay" and not have to be wearing full plate mail.
And for others still, it was a place where they could say "I'm straight, but I have no problem with gay marriage" and not be attacked for daring to stray from the marriage-inequality school. It was a place where they could say "I'm straight, but not narrow" and not get weird looks. It was a place to talk about gay uncles and mechanically inclined aunts and not have to defend "lifestyles" that included ... baking ... and dances ... because actually, queer people are surprisingly similar to straight people -- we even look like y'all.
It was a place for the human condition, not the human conditional upon something.
On the TV, a world-famous gay man hugs a rapper accused of deep, virulent homophobia for his deeply homophobic lyrics. The rapper will later say he associates faggot with a lack of masculinity and that he has no specific problem with gay people.
On the TV, a gay man playing a gay man kisses various other men.
On the TV, two women kiss. It's all over the news because OMG two women kissed.
On the TV, two women kiss, and then one of the women kisses another woman seconds later. The first kiss was far sexier (and first), so it's the one more talked about.
On the TV, a woman has a talk show. And she's gay. And this is not her first show. Oh, and she's done comedy, too. And she's been married.
The girl takes a breath as painful as it is deep.
We don't call it the black rights struggle. We did, but we don't.
We don't call it the women's vote struggle. Did we ever?
We called them savages, mongrels, pagans and natives (and that was no kindness when we described their land as untamed wilderness and proceeded to mow it the fuck down).
Civil rights.
Suffrage.
Continental natives. (Indians is far too loaded, and Native Americans is just dumb. It wasn't America until the invading peoples named it that, so why call its preinvasion inhabitants something they never called it?)
It's all in the name.
AIDS was, in its infancy, called GRIDS -- Gay-Related Immune Deficiency Syndrome. It was showing up in a bunch of gay men, so it made sense.
Those gay men were 15 years separated from being classified as mentally disordered by the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM), currently in its fourth edition.
(Someone someday will write a diary or a book or something comparing the stigma of unnaturality/mental disability (and, for my money, the related concept wherein gay people all have drama -- find out your love has been legislated away and you'll be pretty fucking dramatic, too, bitches) to the stigma of sexual energy that encouraged the rape of female slaves for decades.)
We go from having no word for queer people to having the queer-coined homophile and lesbian, then homosexual, which when paired with activist makes for a hilarious useless term -- a homosexual activist can be activisting for nothing to do with homosexual anything and still be confused for a marriage equality activist.
People today use homosexual to attempt to delegitimize everything from marriage equality to magazine advertisements. The AFA is fond of taking up half of its e-mail title space fitting in "so-called homosexual 'marriage.'"
And now we have 17 words for the people in our community. Gay, queer (which I type simply because it's shorter), questioning, open, poly, lesbian, transgender, transsexual, ally, bicurious, bisexual, femme, butch, muscle mary, lipstick lesbian, homo, homosexual, bottom, top, dyke, fag, drama queen.
I lied. Twenty-two words. (Which did I miss?)
The Associated Press stylebook cautions against the phrase "homosexual lifestyle," probably because anyone who would use it has no
absolutely no
zero
less than no
idea
what they're describing.
(My bisexual lifestyle consists of being married to my wife, going to work and playing around on the Internet. How many sins can you count?)
Control the wording, the message, and you get what you want. You never hear negro anymore. Old, white guys like Pat Buchanan are very, very careful to say African-American lest their true colors come out. (The AP book says black, and so do I.) And if you listen to nothing else but the labels a person uses for a minority group, you find out all you need to know:
hispanics versus aliens
gay versus homosexual
marriage equality versus "redefining marriage"
Win the message war and you win the social argument. Or have you heard someone argue against the mixing of the races of late?
Biracial. Multiracial. Maybe Pat Buchanan says mixed-race if he's already mad (which is probably redundant).
When it comes to marriage, you're either pro-equality or anti-equality. And who wants to be anti-equality? "Oh, I don't like equal rights. I'm for keeping rights away from some people. I think that's fair."
People on a news station belittle an Olympic male figure skater -- who has more talent than they will ever know.
A gay lacrosse goalie, when asked if his teammates worry about his seeing them naked in the shower, says, "No, dude. Looking at them naked would be gross. They're like brothers to me."
An Olympic diver is treated for a cut sustained during competition. He does not tell the man treating him that he is HIV-positive.
A basketball player writes a book in which he comes out. A basketball player writes a magazine article in which she comes out. Neither is treated disparagingly in the media. Nobody talks about how limp-wristed the former NBA center is or how the female player's prowess shouldn't be a surprise given her sexuality.
A baseball player calls a press conference to say he's not gay. (You play in New York. Who gives a shit?)
The girl thinks back on nights praying to be made straight, days arguing that her mother not send her to conversion therapy.
One thing I've never understood about people outside the queer community is why they think any athlete is thinking, during or after a competition, "Oh, boy, next thing, I'll announce I'm gay!"
When I competed in high school, in college, at anything, my first thought was about competing.
First thought, second thought, third thought. Strategy, practice, anticipation.
I played football and baseball. Thinking sports -- not that any sport is a nonthinking sport.
And anything that isn't about the sport is a distraction, whether it's bills, the weather, family life, politics, whatever.
So why would anyone invite that discussion? It's like, hey, yeah, I think I'll give some total assholes who don't know me the opportunity to have this conversation:
Conservative blowhard 1: "Also in today's news, [athlete I've never heard of] has announced that he is gay. The dramatic bit of news came during a press conference in which reporters were asking about his latest relationship and why it didn't work out. Here's a clip of the emotion-filled scene:"
(VIDEO CLIP)
REPORTER: "A tabloid recently published news saying you and your girlfriend had split up. This is the third relationship you've had that's lasted less than three months."
ATHLETE: "That wasn't a question."
REPORTER: "Well, then my question is, why do your relationships not last very long?"
ATHLETE: "Probably because my agent thinks it's good for my image if I'm seen dating women. I'm actually only interested in their boyfriends. I've been paying off photographers for months so they won't show me holding hands with the guys. I've just gotten tired of the price going up."
(VIDEO CLIP)
Conservative blowhard 2: "You know, [blowhard1], this really shows me why so many people are opposed to gay marriage. That athlete, number one, he doesn't have, clearly doesn't have any respect for women, and number two, what is he trying to hide? Marriages are about openness."
CB1: "[Blowhard2], I agree completely. Let's go to the e-mails, see what people are saying. Here's one from Jackie in Oregon, says she bought her infant son an [athlete] jersey and she's throwing it away now because she wants her son to have a straight role model. This one from Norma in Michigan, quote, 'Who cares? One of his teammates just tested positive for a banned substance. That's actually against the rules.'"
CB2: "Well, and to Norma, I guess I would say that for some of us, the rules are that men date women and women date men, and I think a lot of people out there in the heartland, in the families in this country, are going to want those role models who really exemplify that family life."
(Name one athlete who retired because s/he wanted to spend less time with her or his family.)
The hypocrisy of the right to life movement arguing against increasing the resources poured into investigating who removed from someone their right to life.
Being pro-equality because it is more popular politically.
Worrying about acting straight enough in public.
Being out and proud and flaming so hard you set nearby brush on fire. (But a tasteful fire.)
Calling a murder a hoax.
The girl was tired of waking up with her neck sore and her Bible turned to the pages telling her she'd go to hell for being a dyke.
I do not understand, deeply, the notion that someone else gets to vote to give me rights or take them away.
... my rights.
You don't see me voting to limit your rights, right? So why not return the favor? Life, liberty, the pursuit of happiness. My rights, right? Everyone's rights? Thought they weren't up for a vote. (Didn't we have a mild disagreement about those once? I think John McCain was there.)
Worse than that, though, is the shallowness and irrelevance with which these people debate those rights.
"Marriage is between a man and a woman, and that's the end of it." That's not a debate, it's a warning.
"The Bible says [anything but one of the passages wherein Jesus hangs out with whores and thieves]." And we're the perverts, the ones turning something on itself. Misconstrue much?
"Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve!" There are no Steves in the Bible, sillyheads. It wasn't a popular name.
"It's unnatural." You're wearing lipstick!
"They can't have children." Neither can your castrated pets or your elderly parents, but you keep them around. (Why is it that the group of people whose sexual liaisons would result in the fewest unwanted pregnancies, the least amount of birth control used, the fewest abortions and the fewest welfare applications is demonized the most? Why wouldn't social conservatives want ALL poor people to be gay so they'd make fewer tax-dollar-leeching babies? Good Lord, people; I know your platform is built on compassionate hate, but grow a logic bone, wouldja?)
"Gay marriage will destroy Western civilization." Which will then mean you straight-and-narrow folks will get to join Eastern civilization, which has its own pro-straight, pro-state patriotic messages, lack of birth control, enforcement of religion and religion-controlled government.
Isn't that what you want?
All these people talking about family values like the queer community lacks them.
Fella, until you stall for time coming out to your father because you don't know if he'll disown you
Until you wait two years to tell your sisters because you're pretty sure they'll think there's something wrong with you
and you're afraid to tell your brother because what if he thinks it's disgusting, and what if he mentions it at school and someone socks him for something that's nothing to do with him
and it's the first thing you tell any prospective partner just to get the 800-pound rainbow-colored gorilla out of the room
...
and acceptance, not proscriptive Bible verses, follow ... maybe you should rethink what you consider family values.
And until you've known the fear you sow in your job and in your church and in your "God-loving" work, perhaps you should shut your face.
Seriously.
You people talk about being the voice of your constituents, protecting their values.
How many of them actually know anything about a real gay person? Not the caricatured kind, the real ones I've peppered this with.
Every instance in this diary is a person's story. People's stories. Not preprogrammed homosexuals invented in laboratories (Homosexual Exploitation and Liquidation Laboratories) going around destroying civilization — but tastefully! — as evidence of The Gay Agenda.
Real people.
Know them. Find out about them. Don't propagate fear. Go to a pride meeting and just listen.
Listen to ordinary people dealing with life's obstacles, including the ones you and yours have put in their way because they're different.
The faculty member who teaches a class on GLBTA lit.
The residential assistant whose door is covered with anti-equality lit.
The student who's writing a story with a gay character.
The student who asks a question about what determines sexuality.
The college professor who has to answer to parents whose teens suddenly talked to them about prenatal levels of testosterone and their effect on sexuality.
The girl wants the inner pain to end.
One of the reasons people complain about how liberal colleges are is that unless you restrict admission to people who believe a certain thing about things, you're going to get people who believe in some things and people who believe that some things are kind of ridiculous.
And the more persuasive an argument is, the more it perpetuates, which is one great reason nobody argues anymore that black people and white people can't have babies. (You only think I'm kidding.)
And it's kind of hard to argue with "Why can't you just leave them alone if they're not doing anything to hurt you?"
Cuz those times I've kissed boys, you probably didn't notice the world's sin meter causing massive moral damage to kittens or freshly baked pies. (And if so, sorry about the pies. Not sorry about the kittens, though; they were gay, too.)
And so gradually, as persuasive arguments like "who gives a shit?" and "it's a free country" and "the Bible isn't secular law" beat down arguments like "it's immoral" (whose morals?) and "It's against God's law" (sex with menstruating women) and "they can't have children" (neither can old people) and "it's gross!" (so don't have gay sex), ... people really stop giving a shit.
Fascinating what happens when fear and division meet common sense and a really hot kiss.
PFLAG.
A student in a southern state tells a classmate that his parents are lesbians and is punished for doing so.
Attending a drag show at college.
Conservative Christians frame being allowed to say "You're going to hell for being a faggot" as religious freedom and not bullying, hate and an incitement to violence.
Seeing anxiety melt as a teenage friend comes out to you, somehow not knowing no judgment is incoming. ("Did I ever say or do anything that made you think I wouldn't be OK with that?" "No, but ... I just didn't know." "OK." "... OK!" "Anything else?" "Um ... OK, so do you know anything about algebra?")
The girl sees the reflection of the moon on the blade.
Stares at it for a moment.
Gets lost in one of life's beautiful moments.
Puts the knife down, takes another deep breath and, for the first time in a year, and from that night on, goes to bed content with who she is on the inside.