Dropping The Gauntlet

It's a personal rule of mine to be respectful of other people's religious beliefs or systems of faith. I may not agree with what a lot of people think is the whole point of this thing called life, but that shouldn't stop me from being respectful of the things people believe in or the way in which they choose to worship. 

At this moment, though, all bets are off. 

The specific details aren't important or of a reportable nature but the bare bones facts you do need to know are thus: a member of the Church of Latter Day Saints with whom I have professional contact has expressed a reluctance to have business dealings with a male homosexual colleague because he doesn't want to be recruited by a homosexual to do things which are in opposition with his religion. 

Like I said, all bets are off.

I have NEVER heard of gay people knocking on random doors in an effort to recruit people into fagdom. NEVER. I HAVE, on the other hand, had Mormon idiots knock on MY door, looking like Latter Day Stepford Children in their white shirts, and backpacks and pocket protectors, and try to recruit ME into THEIR freakish, fucked up, simple-minded, homophobic, misogynistic, lemming-laced, pedophilic cult. Gays don't have an army of recruiters, like so many Port Authority pimps, who are sent out to find more suckers. You, gullible-vestment-wearing-fool-who-believes-Jesus-spent-his-wild-20s-bumming-around-Utah...sure as hell do. They're called MISSIONARIES.

The Perfect Kiwi Moment

Today, the small, South Pacific island nation of New Zealand's Parliament voted to redefine marriage to be inclusive of same-sex couples. After the final vote count was done, the gallery broke out in song. If you don't know the song, and don't know its origins, you probably found the moment sweet, but otherwise unremarkable.

I moved to New Zealand in 1999. It was my love for a Kiwi woman that was the impetus behind this move to the other side of the globe. The other side of the equator. Far, far away from friends and family. Into a culture I knew almost nothing about. I learned the story behind the traditional Maori song, Pokarekare Ana, almost immediately. Anyone who spends any significant time in NZ needs to know it, because it's a song every New Zealander sings. Stay late enough at any Kiwi party, and have enough to drink, and someone will invariably pick up a guitar and start playing it. And everyone will sing along. Some of them will weep. Because the song that every New Zealander knows, the song that New Zealand Parliament broke out into, isn't just any old song. It's a song of forbidden love. It's a song about struggle and hardship endured by two people who just want to be together. It's a song about lovers who risk life and limb to be together despite society's objections. 

In 2004, when NZ Parliament was getting ready to vote on the Civil Unions Bill - the first step towards legalized same-sex marriage - the general public was invited to make formal submissions for or against the bill. I put together a submission. Actually, I wrote a story. I wrote the story of my grandparents who, like Hinemoa and Tutanekai, were forbidden by society's dictates to be together. I wrote about how my grandparents, who'd known each other since childhood, had secretly, privately loved one another from afar for years, before they finally found a way to be together. I wrote about how they adored one another, and built a life together and had nine children together. I wrote about how they did all of this without the benefit of being legally married. I wrote about how I dared anyone to tell me their relationship was any less real or true or legitimate than any legal marriage. And I wrote about how their relationship was so much like the relationship I was in, which wasn't recognized, legally, either. One of the MPs read my submission and invited me to appear before New Zealand's Parliament to testify in favor of the Civil Union Bill. I considered this invitation an honor and a privilege - as a naturalized New Zealander, as a writer, and as a lesbian. In many ways, the 15 minutes I spent in front of New Zealand's Parliament, reading my submission, and answering questions put before me by various MPs, add up to my proudest moments.

This morning, when I watched the footage of that final vote count, and heard those loud, strong, sweet voices break out into song, I had to stop myself from crying tears of joy. Because I did, indeed,  know the significance of that particular song...a song about lovers who remind me of my grandparents, and of every other pair of unlikely lovers, ever. It was The Perfect Kiwi Moment.

Get Fucked

I've never been a fan of Michelle Shocked's music. It's just not my thing. I never really had an opinion of her, either, before now. Music I don't care for is easy enough to avoid, and I can acknowledge when someone has legitimate talent, even though their art doesn't appeal to me. I'm sure she's talented, but her talents don't produce anything I've ever cared to listen to.

So, yeah. She's a musician who's experienced a certain level of success - most of it around two decades ago. She's also, it turns out, a self-loathing homophobe. I say "self-loathing" because Michelle Shocked is at least bisexual, at most homosexual. I'm not saying this just because her music sounds like dyke music or she's always worn what could pass for a lesbian uniform. I say it because it's a long-established fact that Michelle Shocked has had intimate relationships with women. I'm not just referring to the suddenly-legendary "coming out" interview, where direct reference is made to her identifying as a lesbian and having female lovers (or so everyone who reads it seems to think, except for Shocked, herself.) I'm basing this statement on the fact that several people I know, and have every reason to believe, witnessed Shocked being intimate with women in very public settings. Jennifer Kathleen Gibbons, who isn't just some anonymous blogger with an axe to grind, but a personal friend of mine who has nothing to gain by making up such a story, even mentions seeing Shocked making out with a woman in San Francisco's Castro Theater. And let me make one thing clear: despite what they taught you in 8th grade health ed class, or what you read in Dear Abby 30 years ago, heterosexual women do not make out with or have sex with other women. Whoever invented THAT myth to make scared, nervous, self-loathing gay or bisexual people feel as if they were "normal" really should be shot. If you're a dude and you're jerking off other men or sucking another dude's cock? You're at least bisexual. If you're a woman, and you've engaging in make-out sessions with other women, bedding down with them, dating them, calling them your girlfriends or lovers? You're at least bisexual. And, honestly? You're probably gay. Yeah, that'll annoy some people...mostly people who have some faggish skeletons in their closets that they'd like to forget. Ask me if I care. I spend most of my day annoyed. Join the fucking club.

But that's not my point. I wanted to write, today, because I've seen several people online mentioning that, while Michelle Shocked said some awful things about homosexuality, she's clearly having problems of a psychological nature. "She needs to have her meds adjusted." I'm hearing that one a lot. Also, "Shes lost the plot." Most disturbing, though, I'm also hearing, "She's full of self-loathing, and obviously has some emotional problems, so I feel sort of sorry for her."

Um. WHY? Why would anyone feel sorry for a bigot? Because she's gay or bisexual, herself, despite her own best efforts to bury the past and deny her identity? That doesn't give her a free pass. In my book, it makes her worse than a xenophobe. And I'm not saying she owes the world even an inkling of information about her sexuality. I don't believe any of us has a right to out a closeted homosexual, unless that closeted homosexual makes an effort to not only hide their identity, but to make the rest of us suffer for ours. In that case, all bets are off. And this is exactly what Michelle Shocked has done. That anyone has pity for her is beyond me. She's not some poor victim who is without blame. She's a person who had an audience and used it as an opportunity to spew hate speech about me and people like me. She's not just someone closeted and full of self-loathing. She's like a light-skinned black person who not only passes for white, but fights for the Confederate Army to defend the right to own slaves. She's like a Jew who doesn't just hide her religion from the SS, but sells other Jews down the river.  She's like a woman who isn't satisfied to simply not identity as a feminist, but makes it her job to deny other women the right to equity in the workplace, reproductive freedom, and the right to vote. She's a fucking Log Cabin Republican turned up to 11. When the hell did LGBT people start making excuses for and rationalizing hate speech?

Does Michelle Shocked have some sort of psych disability? I'm not a doctor. I don't know. Maybe. Maybe she's just an asshole. Maybe she really truly does have psych problems. I suspect Anita Bryant, George Wallace, Ted Nugent, Mussolini, Fidel Castro, and Richard Nixon all had or have some psych problems, too. And you know what? They can still all get fucked. And so can Michelle Shocked. I don't care how many vaginas she's been up close and personal with - she's a bigot, and an enemy of the equal rights movement. I don't feel sorry for her. I hate her stupid guts.

Short and Sweet

I'm not an atheist, but I reckon organized religion has bugger all to do with God or Gaia or any Prime Mover or higher power.  The fact is, organized religion is to God, what fan fiction is to Star Trek. It's not canon and, when you get down to it, it's just something people make up for themselves to fill in the emptiness when the Real Thing is on hiatus.

Ron Jeremy Rides the F Train

It was some time in the late 80s. I was in my early 20s.  My mother and I were riding the F train into Manhattan. I looked across the train, and who should I see sitting on the other side, but Ron Jeremy. THAT Ron Jeremy. Ron Jeremy of porn fame and legendary proportions. I thought, "Fuck, why am I with my MOTHER, and not my friend Amy? Of all people to be with when I spot Ron Jeremy...my MOTHER. This takes all the fun out of seeing Ron Jeremy. Life is so fucking unfair. I see celebrities in NYC all the fucking time, but this is Ron Fucking Jeremy...I need someone to witness this with me, someone who ISN'T my mother."

Of course I wasn't about to tell my mother to look at the chubby guy on the other end of the car, and tell her that I, her little girl, had seen him in porn movies. Who the hell tells their mother they've seen porn films, let alone know the actors names? What would my mother think of me, her baby, talking about some porn star? No. Life was unfair, and I'd just have to face the fact that my Ron Jeremy spotting had been a huge letdown because I hadn't been able to share it with anyone.

The train got to East Broadway, and Ron Jeremy stood up and got off the train.

My mother leaned over and asked, very quietly, "That big guy who just got off the train - did you happen to notice him? He's walking on the platform, now - look at him."

As the doors closed and the train slowly pulled out of the station, I spotted Ron Jeremy walking towards the steps.

"Yeah, I see him." I answered.

"His name is Ron Jeremy," my mother said, "He's a porn actor. He has the biggest penis you have ever seen in your life."

One more example of my mother's awesomeness.
Get well, Mr. F. Train.

Good, great, perfect

In just a couple of months, I'll turn 46. I've done a hell of a lot in my life. I'm a little bit past the halfway point and, so far, I've:

Fallen in love
Been published
Walked across a swing bridge (after many fearful tries)
Camped out at the foot of a glacier
Spoken before NZ Parliament
Learned to shoot a .22
Soaked in a geothermal hot pool, in the middle of an alpine beech forest, under the stars
Been caught in a hurricane while camping out on the beach
Been up close and personal with a rare, red sea turtle, rumored to be 500 yrs old (he almost certainly wasn't that old...but he was amazing)
Experienced earthquakes in three different cities
Seen Halley's Comet
Sung backup on a rap album
Carved my initials in a tree
Crossed the Cook Strait when there were 5 meter swells
Thrown some killer dinner parties
Seen both the Southern and the Northern Lights
Baptized a baby
Visited the Corn Palace
Delivered my mother's eulogy

And that's just a sampling. Life is so full of things. Or, at least, it is if you're lucky. I'm very lucky. If you're really, truly, damned lucky, you get some wisdom along the way.  I'll be 46 in a couple of months but, in my roughly 46 years on earth, I've never written or said anything quite so wise and true as this bit of wisdom doled out by my 7 yr old nephew. This wasn't homework, or a note he was writing to anyone but himself.  Just something he jotted down. By the spelling and handwriting, it's pretty clear he wrote it a while back. So, it was written by a 5 or 6 yr old. My sister found it while packing up the house, as she gets ready to move for the umpteenth time. I'm so glad she not only kept it, but sent me a snapshot of it. It makes me remember that, no matter how many fun and interesting things I fill my life with, simplicity is all.

Our Own Worst Enemies

I'm going to try and keep this short and sweet. We live in a world where homosexuals deify men such as Oscar Wilde who - do your homework, homos - was clever and talented and witty, but who went to prison not to DEFEND his gayness, but during an effort to DENY IT. In fact, his legal matters stemmed from the fact that, upon being called a "sodomite," by the The Marquees of Queensbury, Wilde sued Queensbury for libel. Take that in.  He considered it so libelous to be called a fag, that he not only denied it, but sued the man who made the allegation. And he's a gay hero. An icon.  Harvey Milk (who was NOT the first openly gay elected official in the USA, in case you're wondering) conveniently waited until he was 40, and for all of his relatives to be dead and buried before coming out. That was his prerogative. The mythology that's built up around him, though, is of a man who led a life of bravely being out and proud. Not really the case. And I don't really care. I don't. But many of the same people who deify these two homosexual men, both of whom went to great lengths to hide their homosexuality (Milk talked about how he came close to marrying a lesbian friend, so that they could each serve as beard for the other) have, over the last couple of days, shit all over actress Jodie Foster's Golden Globe speech. A speech which, if you were paying attention, wasn't about being gay, but about being someone who was thrust in front of a camera at 4, and who has enjoyed almost no privacy, since.

For decades, the queer press has hounded Foster to make a public announcement about her sexuality. She finally did, and she did on her terms. It was pretty much an "I came out to everyone who really matters ages ago. I'm gay. Are you happy? Will you leave me the fuck alone, now?" speech. I thought it was awesome and brave. Not brave because she's now "out" (I never thought she was IN)  but brave because it was a sort of polite "fuck you" to the fame machine.

And before you say that she can't have her cake and eat it, too: she's a performer, not a politician. All she ever owes me is the two hours of entertainment when I pay to see one of her movies. That's it.

So what do queers all over America, and especially in the press, have to say in response to Foster's speech? That she rambled. That she should have just shut her mouth. That she has nerve complaining about a lack of privacy. That she DESERVES to have her privacy intruded upon. One gay person I know actually posted "The key to privacy is silence" over a photo of Foster at the Golden Globes. Um, seriously? Is that some sort of retarded twist on "Silence=Death" for truly stupid gay people?

Other people are saying that her speech wasn't enough. What the fuck more do they want, the precious bastards? Do they need footage of her performing oral sex on another woman, with narration by Ellen Degeneres and a soundtrack by Ani DiFranco?

 Being gay in America sucks, in part, because queers are so fucking bitchy with the in-fighting, misogyny, and double standards.

THIS

THANK YOU

The Gayest Thing on Television

And by "gayest," I mean the absolute best, most consistently surprising, wonderful, and original thing we've seen on the small screen in years. This 2 minute and 16 second clip is my new favorite thing, for so many reasons.  Sister Judy gets her groove on. Kit and Pepper boogie down. Lana smiles. All is well with the world. I wish I could MARRY this clip.

The Year. A Review.

I've done this for a few years running, so why stop now? Y'all know the drill - this is nothing more than a list of the things about the past year that I took notice of - good or bad.


Best Movie That No One Saw:

Paul Thomas Anderson's The Master. I think five of us saw it. Two of us loved it, the other three hated it. I fucking LOVED this movie. But I love anything PTA touches. And this time, he's touching Scientology's roots...and it's a bad touch, the kind you point out on a doll, in a courtroom scene on Law and Order. Delicious. Gutwrenching. And, yes, annoying. But Scientology IS annoying, so that's par for the course. Phillip Seymour Hoffman is a revelation. Joaquin Phoenix makes up for his stupid behavior in real life, by putting in the performance of a lifetime. I didn't think he could be better than he was in Gladiator. I was wrong. He deserves an Oscar. He won't get it.

Most Unlikely Movie To Get No Promotion, At All:

Dredd 3D. What the fuck? Who makes a big, gorgeous, sprawling epic of a futuristic, comic-book-inspired movie that looks like it cost a hell of a lot to make, and then doesn't promote it in any way? This is the kind of movie that promoting films is all about. I promise you - I am not just saying this because Lena Headey plays the baddie (and she does a bang-up job as the sadistic Ma-Ma): this movie is actually REALLY FUCKING GOOD. Maybe the best film adaptation of a comic book I've seen. By all rights, this should have made a gazzillion dollars at the box office: Headey has a huge fan base, and she's especially hot, right now, due to Game of Thrones. Karl Urban has a decent following thanks to LOTR and the Star Trek Reboot. The movie incorporates some truly amazing visual effects, and makes the best use of 3D I've yet to see. Plus...COMIC BOOK GEEKS. This movie should have been pimped, and pimped hard. Instead, it opened and closed in record time.

Best Bit of Nonfiction I Read in 2012:

Eden's Outcasts. Ok, this was written in 2007, and won the Pulitzer in 2008, but I only got around to it a few months ago. This is my list, so live with it. If you know me, you know I'm a bit of an Alcott freak. Love, love, love this dual bio of Amos Bronson Alcott and his celebrated daughter, Louisa May, that pulls no punches. If you're a fan, this is a MUST.

Best Bit of Fiction I Read in 2012:

Ok, some back story is called for, in this case. I'd avoided reading The Hunger Games, or even finding out what it was about. Mostly because a lot of annoying people kept telling me that I HAD to read it. When the movie came out, I paid no attention, and never found out about the theme, the plot, the characters...any of it. I DID NOT CARE. And then I took up archery, and a friend - someone who isn't annoying, at all - brought up The Hunger Games, and mentioned that archery played a big role in it. She suggested I give it a try. So, yes, I was late to the game, and the annoying people were right. It's a great book. In fact, I'm going to go out on a limb and say this: it is the best contemporary book for girls and young women to read, period. It is the book the world has been waiting for since 1868, when Louisa May Alcott wrote Little Women. Once upon a time, every American girl (and every English and German and Japanese girl...) read Little Women. I don't think that's so anymore. Sadly, what was radical and liberating for and about girls and women in 1868 is too often viewed as prudish, by today's standards. Worse, some people plain don't get it, can't place it in its context, and think Alcott's works are anti-woman, which couldn't be further from the truth. But I digress. If every little girl used to read Little Women, every modern little girl should be reading The Hunger Games. It's brilliant, and kind of beautiful, and it has a female protagonist who is - dare I say it? - a 21st century Jo March. Katniss Everdeen kicks ass. She's physically powerful, intelligent, humane, and a survivor. She does not give up, she does not accept the status quo, and she doesn't stand around, waiting for a boy to save her. I'm so glad I finally got around to reading this. I loved it so much, I've got the next two books in the series, but haven't even started them, yet, because I want to savor them.

 Newest Fixation:

Archery. Why have I pined away for want of doing this since I was a kid, only venturing to try it out at 45? Saturday mornings, Golden Gate Park. I'm there. (No - that's not me in the photo.)

Most Addictive Clusterfuck of Terror that I Take Personally:

Season 1 of American Horror Story was really good. Season 2 - American Horror Story: Asylum - is fantastic. It's also the most scary, fucked up shit to hit the small screen, maybe EVER. You name the scary, and it's there: serial killers, sadists, Satan inhabiting the body of a young nun, the Angel of Death, alien abduction, ritualistic torture...oh, and I haven't even gotten to the truly scary part. None of that gives me nightmares, but the story of Lana Winters, a lesbian living in 1960s Boston, who is shoved away in an asylum  because of her deviant sexual nature, and subjected to all manner or emotional and physical torture? Now THAT sends me into a corner, where I roll up into a fetal position and rock myself to sleep every Wednesday night. Because the monsters Lana Winters faces every week are all too real, and her horror could conceivably befall any of us. I rarely cry. The scene where Lana is subjected to aversion therapy brought me close to tears. This show is so bad for my mental health, I'm sure of it. Yet, it's so well done, and so compelling...I can't NOT watch it. And Sarah Paulson is a heart-breaker, in more ways than one. Watch at your own risk. But watch.

Best On-screen Chemistry:

Lena Headey and Peter Dinklage as siblings Cersei and Tyrion. They're a joy to watch together. Any scene with Cersei and The Imp is worth watching over and over. I love them. I haven't read the Game of Thrones books but, so I have no idea what's to come. If Tyrion dies, I'm going to scream. I mean it. He's so awesome.

Most Pleasant TV Surprise:

The Dallas reboot is good. Really good. I'd assumed it would suck. I'd assumed they'd only use the old actors as background. I assumed it would be a mess that paid no mind to the Dallas cannon. I was wrong. The reboot is a gorgeous continuation of the original series, obviously written by folks who have great love for original, and who were determined that the classic characters be front and center, all the way. Josh Henderson, who got off to a shaky start as John Ross, ended the season looking and sounding every inch the heir apparent of J.R. Ewing. Honestly? The season one finale could not have been better. Viewers witnessed the birth of a monster in Henderson's John Ross, and he was 100% up to the job. I have big love for this series, and hope it can survive the sad passing of Larry Hagman.

Best Lesbian Thing All Year:

I'll readily admit that I don't actually know much about "lesbian things," because I don't like most of the books, movies, sports, music or celebrities people associate with lesbians. But I know good stuff made by lesbians, about lesbians, when I see it. The Throwaways, by Tellofilms  is really well-done, and worth seeking out.

Favorite New Not-For-Profit:

A is for... is  a very cool new organization whose mission is all about preserving and guaranteeing the rights of women through education and advocacy, and support of other woman-centric groups. I like these folks. They're cool, and they want the average woman to get involved in her own future. What's not to like about this?

Most Satisfying Personal Achievement - Major:

Complete dietary and lifestyle changes that have resulted in complete control of a chronic condition and changed my outlook on just about everything. Enough said about this.

Most Satisfying Personal Achievement - Minor: 

You're probably going to ask, "Is she kidding? THAT'S a satisfying achievement???" I just SAID it would be a minor achievement. It was more tricky than I'd thought it would be, so I was proud of myself for actually seeing this through to the end and sending it on its merry way to a young friend in L.A. I MADE THIS, YO.

Best New Blog:

The Gay Agenda: Free Dream Interpretation By A Lesbian With A Definite Bias. Yeah, I'm plugging my own shit. Deal with it.