The Cult of Melinda
The gAyTM is closed! No gay rights, no gay $$$!
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Saturday, June 27, 2009
The Real Coming Out Story
Since I mentioned it, here it is...
I was in the drama club's production of The Little Shop of Horrors my junior year. One day during rehearsals, the guy playing the sadistic dentist decided to tell one of the guys in the chorus that I was a lesbian. So, as we ran through the choreography, we'd often end up back in the same spot, waiting for the next run. Dentist boy (who looked strangely like k.d. lang in his stage makeup) just would not let it die and chorus boy kept asking. If I said I wasn't gay, which I believed to be true at the time, he'd tell me he thought I was. If I said I was, sarcastically, because I thought I wasn't, he'd tell me he thought I was lying.
After hours of this crap, I lost my temper and screamed "I'm gay, okay?" in his face and everyone in the rehearsal hall looked. I walked out, upset. I tried to tell people that I'd said that because he wouldn't believe me when I told him the truth. (Remember: I thought I was straight.) Too late. No one believed me and the rumors spread. Dentist boy would start whispering lesbian at me in drama class and during rehearsals. People started moving away from me in the lunch line and in class and in the hallways, making a HUGE deal about how my lesbianism might be catching or I might want to sleep with them. I got things thrown at me, things written about me on the bathroom walls, and many things said to me that I won't repeat here.
For the first time, I actually thought about my sexual orientation and realized, after much soul-searching, a lot of crying and no small amount of amusement at the absurdity of it all, that I was gay. I then went around trying to figure out how to hide it. I faked a crush on dentist boy because he freaking deserved it. Dentist boy, who was bi, decided to stop being a d*ck and tried to help. It was no use. At school, I was the lesbo.
At home, I kept lying. After months of this, I decided to sneak off to gay pride. I wanted to see what other gay people were like. A part of me hoped I'd freak out and realize that I wasn't really a big ol' lesbian after all. No such luck. Instead, I felt at peace with my sexual orientation for the first time ever. Unfortunately, I was too at home to notice the TV cameras pointing at me.
When my mother came to pick me up near Jackson Square in the French Quarter, far from the scene of my gay adventures, she and my little brother said they wanted to go to this festival I'd talked about. Doh! I lied like hell and told her that I'd been shocked to find upon my arrival that the festival was for gay people. I'd just seen on TV that there was a festival in the FQ and wanted to go. I swear that I sounded like a valley girl for some reason. My voice just would not cooperate. (I've never been a good liar.)
It all would have ended there I guess, if it weren't for the TV cameras. Yep! I was on the 10 o'clock news buying a drink at Gay Pride! My family found this far too amusing. But I spun the earlier story and said that I'd bought a drink b/c it was hot then left. Saying it was hot as hell in New Orleans in June is like saying it's cold in space. So, I figured they bought it, but they weren't going to let me live it down anytime soon.
For the next week, they ribbed me mercilessly. Some of their jokes were funny. Some, like running away from me in the mall screaming "OH NO! A lesbian is following us!", were publicly humiliating. One incident was downright devastating. I'd come down from my room to check the TV Guide when my older, very big brother walked up right behind me and loomed over me. "What's worse than a dumb lesbian?" he asked. The answer? "A smart one." Then, it got worse. "What's the definition of a good lesbian?" The answer? "A dead one."
On July 3, I was driving with my sister-in-law in Biloxi, MS, where my oldest brother had brought us for vacation. (He'd often let me tag along on their family vacations.) She brought it up and asked if I could imagine the look on my mother's face if we told her it was true. (She assumed it wasn't.) I couldn't take it any more and I trusted her, so I said, "It is." She thought I was joking and started laughing so hard she almost wrecked the van. After she stopped laughing, we talked about it and she gave me her word that she'd keep my secret. (Though not before asking me if I'd actually go down on a woman. I told her that I was still a virgin but pretty sure that that was the whole point of lesbianism.)
Not long after, I decided to tell one other person I trusted, my best friend Jen. Jen turned out to be bi and had this gorgeous lesbian friend named Steph who didn't go to our school. My sisters began to suspect something was up, unfortunately, and started eavesdropping on my phone calls. This included my lengthy discussions with Jen about Steph's many attractive qualities.
They told my mom I was gay, which my mother denied. I overheard as I was coming down the stairs and decided to take a run for it. Unfortunately, the door was locked. Trapped! As I tried to get the door unlocked with trembling hands, my sister Belinda looked at me and said, "Bitch, tell mom you're gay." I said, "Mom, I'm gay." Then I ran for dear life and hid from my mother for like a week. A week later, trapped in the car with her, I told her again that I was gay and she told me she'd always known.
From being outed to coming out to the first stages of being out, I struggled through months of harassment, abuse and even violence at home, in my neighborhood and in school. I lost about 50 pounds from my previously athletic frame and developed a severe case of insomnia. I hid in my room most of the time. Sometimes, two of the friends I hadn't lost would hide me at their place for days at a time. I started drinking and smoking and developed a bit of a marijuana problem. And yes, I attempted suicide. In the end, I left home and school and moved in with friends. After 3 years of problems with depression, alcohol and pot abuse, and a bit of alcohol-fueled promiscuity and self-destruction, I began to rebuild my life. I'd like to think that I've done a pretty good job of it, but I often wonder what could have been.
*Yes, you got the dates right. This weekend marks 16 years since I went to Gay Pride and finally felt at home in my gayness. This Friday will mark the 16th anniversary of the first time I came out (knowing that I was gay). Happy Gay-niversary to me!
JUST TO BE SAFE: If any job-related people read this, I no longer drink or do drugs. I don't sleep around. I'm now perfectly normal, psychologically healthy and very boring.
Visibility and the Closet
I'm a bit under the weather, so forgive me if this post wanders a bit or begins to make no sense whatsoever.
In response to my previous post, "Gay v. Black", a friend picked up on my comment that segregating LGBT people didn't happen because, in part, we are "less visible." I'd like to expound on that. (I'll briefly add that segregating gay people would be possible just not in the same way as more visible minorities. Doing so would take something along the lines of the Nazi segregation of the Jews and the requirement that gays wear some visible symbol. During the Holocaust, gay concentration camp victims wore an upside down pink triangle. Yes, that is where we got that symbol.)
First, we are less visible but not invisible.
My friend pointed out that I'm a bit masculine in some ways but visibly feminine in others. In my youth, I was even more visibly feminine. I wore more feminine clothes, had long manicured nails and wore my hair all the way down to my butt. I was even seen, on occasion, in skirts and (GASP!) makeup. My much-discussed curves were quite visible by the time I was 14. Did my overt femininity allow me the ability to hide amongst the heterosexuals? Not at all.
When I tell my "coming out" story, I usually tell people about my telling my mother and her response that she'd known since I was in elementary school. Unfortunately, the story is a bit more complicated than that. You see, I was "outed" at school before I even realized I was gay. It's a bit of a long story but that's the gist of it. I didn't know I was gay and hadn't given much thought to my sexual orientation. Someone else suspected. Soon, I was the school lesbian with all the harassment that came along with the designation. Eventually, I realized the rumors were true. I was gay! That was a huge surprise and a major trauma in the "my life as I'd known it was over" kind of way.
As time went on, I embraced my natural butchness, but have never been particularly manly. I still pass quite effectively to some extent. Men still come on to me and are often surprised to be told that I'm gay (even when I'm wearing men's clothes). Apparently, people assume I'm too "pretty" to be a dyke. (Don't get that from either end, but whatever.)
On the other hand, I've often been detected long before doing or saying anything overtly gay. When I moved into the dorm, the rumor immediately went around that a lesbian was moving in. This happened before anyone had spoken to me or my roommate, who knew the first day. I was wearing jeans and a 10,000 Maniacs t-shirt and had hair to the middle of my back. I wasn't "stereotypically" gay-looking, in other words. When I started work at a tourism company, the rumor that the new girl was a lesbian started before I'd had a chance to meet my coworkers. Keep in mind that I wore the same uniform as everyone else, although I did have shorter (but not manly) hair at that point. Again, I wasn't stereotypically gay-looking.
You see what I mean? Less visible not invisible.
Secondly, we oppose the closet, not just because we shouldn't have to hide or because some of us can't, but because it is destructive.
Hiding yourself because some aspect of your identity is deemed repugnant by the greater society can lead to devastating consequences. Hiding leads to shame, loss of self esteem and positive self-image, guilt, overwhelming loneliness, etc., especially since hiding one's sexuality in a hypersexualized society means constantly lying to everyone you know, including those who are supposed to love you unconditionally. This leads you to question whether the people in your life actually love you, whether they would hate you if they knew, and whether any of your relationships are valid or real. These concerns lead to a constant overwhelming fear of being found out and being punished for who you are. These feelings of fear, inadequacy, inferiority and isolation lead to alcohol and drug abuse, unhealthy sexual relationships, self-destructive behaviors, depression, and suicide for far too many LGBT people. (I speak, I'm sad to say, from personal experience.)
Our opposition to the closet, therefore, isn't just a political point or an ideological principle. It's a matter of defending our ability to survive and to live physically and psychologically intact.
Every LGBT person who's ever come out chose to risk rejection, hatred, violence, discrimination and other forms of abuse rather than continue to live in the daily torment produced by the closet. Make no mistake that those risks were real and are too often realized in our daily lives. Think about that and I think you'll understand a little better how horrid the closet really is.
Saturday, June 20, 2009
Strange Friends I Have
My friends are a bit lost trying to find my house, so they just called asking me to look up my GPS coordinates online so they can geocache me. Seriously. I love my crazy friends.
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Gay v. Black
This post is not meant as a pissing contest. However, a lot of people get offended by the comparison of the Gay Rights Movement to the Civil Rights Movement because apparently LGBT people haven't suffered enough. So, I'd like to inform all of you about the suffering of LGBT people throughout American history in comparison to some of the events of African-American history.
Until 1865, African-Americans were enslaved in the U.S.
Until 1873, homosexuality was punishable by death. After 1873 and before in many states, being gay was punishable by imprisonment and the seizure of all of your property. Homosexuals continued to be arrested and imprisoned just for being gay until the latter half of the 20th century. Consenting sexual activity between two adults of the same gender was a felony in some states until 2003.
Due to pseudoscientists like Freud, homosexuality was considered a mental illness in the late nineteenth century and throughout most of the twentieth century. Untold thousands of gay people were confined to mental institutions against their will. "Treatments" included lobotomy (removal of part of the brain), electroshock, psychotropic drugs, aversion therapy, hypnosis, cocaine solutions, saline cathartics, the surgical “liberation” of adherent clitorises, injections of of strychnine, castration, sex gland implants, threats of physical violence, nausea-inducing drugs, psychotherapy, and much, much more.
African-Americans are segregated by law until the 1960's.
LGBT people could not be segregated for 2 reasons: 1.) We are less visible. 2.) It was illegal for gay people to congregate in most parts of the country.
Until well into the 1970's and 1980's, there were a variety of anti-LGBT laws on the books. In addition to the previously mentioned sodomy laws and laws against congregating, there were laws against LGBT people dancing together, wearing clothes of the opposite sex (even if you were trans), working in a variety of jobs (military, government, teaching, etc.), immigrating to the United States, and so much more.
LGBT Americans were frequently the subject of police harassment and brutality. The Stonewall Riot, which happened 40 years ago this month, was just one of many acts of resistance against this brutality across the country. The police and FBI often investigated and/or infiltrated LGBT groups and reported members to family, employers, neighbors, etc. Being outed by the police/FBI destroyed tens of thousands of lives. During the McCarthy era, the federal government conducted witch hunts to find homosexuals working in the federal government. The military also conducted such witch hunts to find gay people in the ranks and imprisoned many of those they found. Again, these actions destroyed tens of thousands of lives and careers.
African-Americans were and are frequently targeted by violent extremist groups, both as individuals and as a group. In the United States, attacks against African-Americans are called hate crimes under the law (local, state and federal). Attacks against the African-American community, such as church burnings, are considered domestic terrorism.
Attacks against individual gay people have included tens of thousands of acts of vandalism, arson, harassment, assault, rape, murder and lynching. In most states, these acts are NOT considered hate crimes. Federal law does NOT consider these acts hate crimes. Attacks against the gay community have included the assassination of gay leaders, the bombing of gay establishments, the burning of gay establishments, the firebombing of gay establishments, attacks on gay-positive churches, etc. In many cases, these acts have not been punished as acts of terrorism.
African-Americans continue to struggle with discrimination, despite the fact that it has been illegal for decades.
In 32 states and under federal law, it is still legal to discriminate in employment based on sexual orientation. DADT requires discrimination against LGBT people in the military. In 38 states and under federal law, it is still legal to discriminate in housing and public accommodation based on sexual orientation. It is illegal in most states for gay people to adopt children, even if the biological parent is their legal spouse.
Only 6 states allow gay people to marry. Due to DOMA and dozens of state laws/constitutional amendments, none of the other 44 states or the federal government acknowledge legal marriages between people of the same sex, which denies same-sex married couples access to thousands of rights and benefits including the right to make medical decisions, the right to child custody, the right to visitation in hospitals, the right not to testify against your spouse, the right to sponsor your non-citizen spouse for a green card, the right to make funeral arrangements for your deceased spouse, the right to collect your spouse's social security benefits, the right to file taxes as married, etc. This often requires same-sex couples to pay additional taxes on everything from income to health care to homeownership, to pay thousands of dollars for legal documents approximating a small handful of the purposes of marriage (like medical decision-making), and to confine their lives to those states where they have legal protection.
African-Americans fought for a long time to get their rights. The organized struggle for legal equality for African-Americans began effectively as a meeting of 32 black leaders in 1905 and ended in 1968. The part commonly referred to as the Civil Rights Movement lasted from 1955 to 1968.
The LGBT community has been fighting against anti-gay discrimination as an organized movement since 1950 and will turn 60 next year. The gay equivalent of the Civil Rights Movement (including civil disobedience, marches, legislative lobbying, legal cases, etc.) began in 1969 and continues to the present day. It's been 40 long years.
And let's be very clear. I'm bringing out the all-caps for this one. I HAVE NOW BEEN AN ACTIVE MEMBER OF THE GAY RIGHTS MOVEMENT FOR A PERIOD OF TIME LONGER THAN THE ENTIRE CIVIL RIGHTS MOVEMENT! GET IT?
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
From AmericaBlog: The Democratic National Committee is actually throwing a "gay fundraiser" next week! But it might be an empty house as various prominent gays are pulling out in protest of the DOMA brief fiasco. It won't be empty outside, however, as a big protest is planned for that evening and gay publication Blade will be there with cameras flashing.
From Latin American Herald Tribune: There's been a bombing at a gay pride parade in Brazil. At least 21 people were injured.
From Stacey: Obama's Plan for Gay Rights
From Everywhere: Teh Gays are mad as hell and we're not going to take it anymore!
My build-a-couch has just arrived from IKEA. The delivery people were supposed to come up with the concierge to put it in my apartment, but instead they left it at the desk. A very nice gentleman took time out of his day to help me carry it up and to my apartment. I've never been more grateful for the presence of a big burly man in my life. Perhaps I will be when my lovely friend B helps me carry out the old couch tomorrow or Thursday. I know. What happened to that big strong, amazonian lesbian you once knew and loved? She got old, byatches. She got old.
Not too old to build a couch with her bare hands, though. Or at least I'm hoping not. Wish me luck.
UPDATE: I still got it!
Sunday, June 14, 2009
Flashback: The Great Clam Jam of 1998
To protect the innocent, I'm going to conceal the identity of the people involved in this story. They know who they are and one of them loves being written about anyway.
Picture it: The Lobby of Bienville Hall Dorm. Thanksgiving or Christmas Eve 1998 (can't remember). The group is already sitting on the couches in the lobby when Pathetic Goth Boy and I return from visiting my family for the holiday. I'd taken PGB home with me because he was on the outs with his family.
Anyway, the couches are full at first so PGB and I are standing around telling everyone of the visit to my family and a side trip to visit the very heterosexual Major Hottie. We tell them how my family had responded to our decision to share resources over the break by acting as if we were married. They kept asking if "we" needed this, that or the other and offering cooking supplies, tupperware and the like. Then, we tell everyone about Major Hottie, who'd answered her door in a long blue silk nightie covering her six feet of gorgeousness b/c she thought I was the only person at the door. I mock PGB for his breathless "Lucy Lawless" as MH ran upstairs to get dressed.
As we get to this point in the story, I notice the unrequited love of my life and most gorgeous woman on the planet aka Super Jew giving me the once over. Then she proclaims, "She's so pretty!" and buries her face in her hands. Keep in mind that I've seen SJ jump over a couch to look at a girl's ass, so the shy thing is freaking me out. I think maybe she's talking about me and am about to say thank you when Big Man says, "Who? Lucy Lawless?" SJ raises her head and a bit too gratefully says, "Yeah. Lucy Lawless." like she didn't really mean it. I kick myself for my delay and let it pass.
Later, I end up sitting next to SJ as Pathetic Goth Boy starts telling every one about his huge crush on Pathetic Goth Girl. Since there'd been the joke about our being "married" earlier, I do my best fake offended routine and scream, "You bastard! You're cheating on me?" At this point, SJ leans over and whispers in my ear, "That means you get to cheat on him too, right?" (This moment will forever be known as the moment my brain up and died.) Anyway, instead of saying what was in my head ("Only if it's you."), I proclaim "I'm just not that kind of girl!" like some Southern Belle who'd just been propositioned by a Yankee soldier during the War of Northern Aggression. Definite brain death.
Later still, PGB offers to give SJ a ride home. I offer to ride along because PGB still isn't too familiar with New Orleans. Suddenly, Big Man offers to join us, at which point I try to bow out. If Big Man is going, PGB won't need me for directions. Big Man says I should come anyway, so we all pile in to PGB's small truck with the miniature extended cab that allows two people to sit knee to knee behind the main seats. Rubbing knees with SJ is my idea of heaven! Let me tell ya. But it doesn't last nearly long enough. Before I know it, we're at SJ's place. When she gets out, she turns around and says very slowly and with a bit too much enunciation, "Melinda. You haven't seen my apartment yet. Why don't you come up?"
As I begin to crawl out of my place on the other side of the truck towards the open door, I thank every deity ever worshipped anywhere for my good fortune. Melinda is getting somewhere! With Super Jew! The most beautiful woman on the planet! My face probably would've cracked open from the stupid grin on it if it weren't for the intervention of Big Man, who proclaims, "I haven't been to your apartment yet either. I'm coming up." I should've smacked him. This leads Pathetic Goth Boy to decide that he doesn't want to sit in a strange neighborhood in the middle of the night so he should join us too. Yay! I love company. NOT!
We get to SJ's apartment, which is arranged with one room behind another in a row, and suddenly she's in a rush. "This is my living room. This is my bedroom. This is my kitchen. Gotta go to the bathroom. Be right back." I smirk to myself as we pass through the bedroom and think, "THIS is where I'll be having sex!" (No such luck, unfortunately. But I was a cocky little dyke, wasn't I?)
The three of us stand around admiring the quirkiness of SJ's apartment for about 2 minutes. When SJ emerges suddenly from the bathroom, she basically orders us out of her apartment because she's "got a lot of things to do" late at night on Thanksgiving or Christmas Eve (can't remember). So, we leave.
I wonder what would have happened that night if I'd gone up alone but maybe it's best that I don't torture myself. I've never quite gotten over SJ as it is. Anyway, that shall forever be known as The Great Clam Jam of 1998, because I'm pretty sure that Big Man unwittingly clam jammed me that night. I've discussed it with him and he thinks I may be on to something. He's apologized profusely though he had no way of knowing at the time. And I forgive him. Sometimes.
A lot of faux-gressives are out in the interwebs defending the Obamessiah from the outrage of the LGBT community and once again, telling people spit on by their reigning Alpha that we should just sit down and shut up. Here's the stupidest argument:
Obama is restoring the rule of law. We don't want the president picking and choosing which laws he'll enforce. Do you want him to be like Bush and politicize the Justice Department. blah blah blah...
1.) Claiming that Obama is concerned with the rule of law is a joke considering his efforts to undermine the rule of law in regards to the MANDATORY investigation and prosecution of war crimes. (War criminals v. LGBT Americans. Which would you choose to protect?)
2.) No one is asking Obama not to enforce the law. We're asking that he not defend the law on the grounds that it is unconstitutional. Previous administrations have done so and the courts simply hired someone to defend the law.
3.) Even if they had to defend it, Obama's DOJ did not have to be so blatantly homophobic in doing so, potentially setting the cause of gay rights back decades.
4.) Even if the DOJ had to defend the law, Obama's administration could have issued a public statement or friend of the court brief disagreeing with the brief's conclusions and arguments.
5.) Even if the DOJ had to defend the law, they didn't have to use a Friday news dump in an attempt to minimize open discussion and debate on the brief. (A Friday news dump is specifically used to minimize media coverage of an action that may be viewed unfavorably.)
This brief is a virulently homophobic piece of crap that compares loving adult relationships to incest and pederasty, claims that homosexuals have no civil rights to speak of, claims that gay people can just marry people of the opposite sex if they want rights, claims that straight people shouldn't be forced to "finance" something they find abhorrent (despite the taxes paid by LGBT people for benefits they cannot claim and the many things taxpayers fund that they find abhorrent) and claims that Supreme Court precedent establishing sexual orientation as a suspect classification should be ignored. Anyone who defends this horrid abuse of our laws and our Constitution should be ashamed.
Flashback: Because I Miss Her...
This tale is about the Red Queen, also known as my first college roommate. I was already a sophomore when I moved into the dorm to save cash and travel time. But one thing worried me. How would my assigned roommate handle (insert scary music) Teh Gay?
In light of the fact that some people wouldn't handle Teh Gay very well, I decided to pick up my keys and hopefully, meet the roommate before I moved in. I showed up early in the morning on move-in day and ran up to my room, thinking I would've beaten the roommate there. So, when I walked into room 428 and found a stunning blonde lying on the bed in a velvet gown reading, I got a bit gobsmacked and thought for sure I'd entered the wrong room. I started apologizing for my intrusion before walking out when I realized I'd opened the locked door with a key. Doh! This was my room and the stunning blonde was my new roommate.
I had a moment of "Oh Happy Day! Thank you, Lord! I've been such a good little lesbian!" before realizing I should probably introduce myself. Babbling all but incoherently, I informed her that I was her roommate and I was a big ol' lesbo and if she had a problem with that, I'd get reassigned. The Red Queen surveyed me in a quite amused fashion, informed me that she was straight but had no problem with Teh Gay, then told me her name. This is when I realize I hadn't quite told her my name yet. Doh! Obviously the name part should've come before the "I'm a big lesbo" right?
Despite this inauspicious beginning, the Red Queen and I became good friends though we soon discovered that a night person and a morning person (with a sleep disorder) probably shouldn't live in the same room. Before that discovery, however, we had lots of great times. My favorite memory is this:
One day the Red Queen told me about a new book on Irish mythology that she was very excited about reading and introduced me to the Sheila na Gig, an Irish fertility symbol placed above temple doors prior to the advent of Catholicism. (Obviously, I'm a bad half-Irish girl if a Polish girl had to introduce me to a famous Irish symbol.) Anyway, this is the Sheila na Gig:
I was in love. I thought it'd be great to put the Sheila na Gig over the door and told the Red Queen of my evil plan. That's when the Red Queen, ever the diplomat, offered a compromise:
RQ: "I'll let you put the Sheila na Gig over the door if I can erect a huge penis in the middle of the room."
Me: "You can erect a penis all you want. I'd just prefer not to be in the room when you do!"
This led to the both of us bursting out laughing as the Red Queen sputtered through explaining that that was so NOT what she meant to say. Ah, good times.
I miss you, RQ. Come back to DC soon.
Saturday, June 13, 2009
Sex Laws in America
It's not just homophobia. The ways in which various states criminalize normal, voluntary sexuality is abhorrent. AlterNet has a piece on 15 shocking cases.
Talking About DOMA
There's a lot of great discussion going on about the DOMA issue over at AMERICAblog. John Aravosis' legal interpretations of the brief and the Obama administration's lies relating to it are a must read.
The "Fuck You" Heard Round the World
To add insult to injury, Obama's administration timed the filing of his virulently homophobic defense of DOMA to the anniversary of the Supreme Court's decision in Loving v. Virginia, the interracial marriage case which established marriage as a fundamental civil right. On June 12, 2007, Mildred Loving issued a rare public statement in defense of same sex marriage, calling upon her own experience of being denied full marriage rights. I cannot find the words to describe how disgusting it is that a man born of interracial marriage would use this anniversary to deny marriage rights to tens of millions of American citizens and to abuse the spirit and memory of Loving v. Virginia to do so.
Not One Nickel
Not One Nickel lays out the new voice of the LGBT Community in the face of constant betrayals by the Democrats, who want our money, our votes, our time, our energy and our support but force us to live as second-class citizens in our own country and refuse to support us on even those issues where we have public opinion behind us. We will not stand for these cowardly betrayals any longer. As we approach the 40th anniversary of Stonewall, a new radicalism is emerging. I, for one, think it's about damned time.
No Gay Rights, No Gay Dollars!
No Gay Rights, No Gay Votes!
If you support the LGBT cause, whatever your orientation, please return any Democratic contribution requests with the words above or some equivalent written on them. If you have a web site or blog, please post this request or some version of it. Please help us send the message that human rights should never be sacrificed for political expediency.
UPDATE: If you wish, you may also like to participate in Operation DOMA Flip Flop. It'll only take a few minutes and won't hurt at all (unless you get a paper cut, in which case, it'll hurt like a bitch).
Friday, June 12, 2009
In addition to flip-flopping on Don't Ask Don't Tell, under which 13,000 men and women in our armed forces have been discharged for being gay, Obama has now allowed his DOJ to defend the Defense of Marriage Act by, in part, comparing gay relationships to incest and pederasty.
Sadly, I'm not even remotely surprised. Once again, I was right all along.
UPDATE: I would just like to preemptively note that my use of the term "flip-flopping" to denote the cowardly betrayals of this administration was in no way a disparagement of the honor or integrity of the wonderful Housewife in Flip Flops.
Tuesday, June 09, 2009
Flashback: I'm a Tree!
I haven't done one of these in who knows how long. Can't let the stories die.
Anyway, back in college, I hung with an amazing group of people who, as of this writing, have been my dearest friends for longer than anyone else I've ever known. These people taught me to stop taking myself too seriously, pull the leola root out of my ass and have a little fun. One of our many fun (but not very adult) activities was playing hide-and-go-seek on campus in the vicinity of the courtyard formed by the math, biology, liberal arts and education buildings plus our beloved computer center (click the link for a map and see the corner of Founders Road and Harwood Drive). This location offered many awesome places to hide.
One night, Ducky was it and the rest of us thought it would be really funny to hide together on the third floor of the math building's external stairwell. So, as Ducky counted (in Roman numerals), we headed en masse to our secret hiding place. From this lovely vantage point, we could chat while we watched Ducky try to find us. As the amusement of the situation began to wear off, we decided to travel en masse again to our base (the computer lab) just as Ducky went behind the building in search of his prey. Since we're all a little overdramatic, we decided to do this single file, back to the wall, SWAT style.
As we're sneaking down the stairs in this uber-military fashion, yours truly hears a noise behind her and turns around to give a sub-vocal STFU to whomever had taken up the rear. Unfortunately, our rear guard was a poor Asian guy who'd come out of the building, found a group of people carrying out some sort of covert op and decided to join them lest unspeakable danger catch him unawares.
Fortunately, he spoke SWAT hand signals and I managed to convince him that he could just go ahead and walk down the stairs like a normal person. It took all of my infamous Vulcan-like self control not to break into riotous laughter right then and there. I managed somehow and we all made it to base safe and sound. Then, I lost it. (While at base, I managed to convince some people that my super-mysterious middle name was "white cloud" in Choctaw and that it meant airhead. But that's a whole other story.)
I'm not certain if it was that night or some other night, but the next story has plagued me for years.
Same set up. Hide-and-go-seek. UNO Campus. The Big Kahunah is it. Important background information: I'm a little night blind and wasn't wearing my glasses b/c I was a vain little nerd back then. Anyway, I managed to hide undetected for some time by literally just standing around in the shadows wearing all black. At one point, I just stood up against a tree in the middle of the courtyard. Then I decided to make my way to base. I decide to use the old SWAT maneuver again. So, there I am, back to the wall, using all my fancy footwork as I slink my way towards the base, when I see a vague movement in the darkness. I freeze, back to the wall, arms spread wide. I think, for a moment, that I have gone undetected and congratulate myself for my mad camouflage skills. When suddenly, the booming voice of the Big Kahunah erupts from the darkness: "Melinda, you're standing under a bright light. Do you think that if you pretend you're a tree, I can't see you?" Doh!
So, yes, I'M A TREE!!!!!! And a natural blonde.
Saturday, June 06, 2009
This Song is Very Depressing But Beautiful
Why do songs like this always bring the same person to mind? You'd think that after all the womenz I've been with since then that that would change. Guess not.
Thursday, June 04, 2009
And New Hampshire Makes Six...
Gay marriage is now legal in New Hampshire. Big round of applause! Live free or die, indeed.
Tuesday, June 02, 2009
Please stop making us look stupid.
You think it's clever to challenge pro-lifers with miscarriage and spontaneous abortion as some sort of counterpoint to their opposition to induced abortion. Often, you'll snicker and pat yourself on the back after making this argument because you're sure that the stunned look on their faces is proof of your ideological and rhetorical victory. You're wrong. It's not clever. You deserve neither to snicker nor to pat yourself on the back. That stunned look is not proof of victory but a response to the complete stupidity that is your argument. Look at any intelligent pro-choicer's face after you've made that argument and you'll probably see the same stunned look.
You see, whether you like it or not, there is a difference between miscarriage/spontaneous abortion and induced abortion just as there is a difference between dying of natural causes and dying due to some action on the part of another human being, be it manslaughter or murder or self-defense. There is a HUGE difference. To say that pro-lifers have to be opposed to G-d or nature's creation of miscarriage in order to be ideologically consistent is just ridiculous. That's the equivalent of saying that a person can't be ideologically opposed to murder or manslaughter if they're not also ideologically opposed to dying of old age.
So, please stop making that argument. You've embarassed the movement enough.