On Day 18 of 30 Days of Blogging, I'm using up the last of Leo's three part question, but I'm pretty sure the answer is going to surprise her. Leo offered this topic:
most influential book
There are some books that have made a tremendous impact on me over the years, but the word "influential" really struck me when I was thinking about this and trying to narrow it down. My answer is a book that I've read cover to cover only once, although I've read pieces of it hundreds of times.
The book that has most influenced me is the Bible.
I live with the consequences of its influence every day, whether I want to or not.
This has been on my mind since spring break, because the week that we were there was also the week that the Supreme Court was hearing arguments for California's Proposition 8 case and for the challenge to part of the federal Defense of Marriage Act. It's very strange to live in a country where your rights as a taxpaying citizen are a matter of debate, rather than actual rights. On some level this is the case for everyone, as recent votes and arguments over the right to health care, the right to keep and bear arms, and the ongoing battle that women face for the right to make health choices about what happens inside their own bodies have shown.
As a person who hears their validity as a human being debated on the nightly news, I have to tell you that sometimes it hurts. Sometimes I feel bad when I hear myself referred to as a pervert. Or a deviant. Or a threat to families or family values or the traditions that our society is built on. As I've said before, whenever the media discusses "LGBT people" or even just "the gays", I mentally insert myself into the sentence, and a lot of times that sentence ends up bothering me. I find out that people who don't know me hate me, and think horrible things about me, and that in our society this is considered a valid argument. Whether or not I should be able to enter into a legal contract to join my household to that of another consenting adult is not a given, because the other consenting adult and I both have a penis.
Why am I off on this tangent?
Because every time someone has told me that I am sick and wrong, it has been because of their religion. And in almost every case, that religion was based on the Bible. God made Adam and Eve, you know, not Adam and Steve. Thou shalt not lie with man as with woman. Sodom and Gomorrah.
Etc.
This is not to say that all religious people have hurt me, or that everyone influenced by the Bible has been negatively influenced. I'm just saying that the book that most influences me on a regular basis is that one. I feel it from October to January every year, when every store I go into reminds me that Christmas exists. I feel it every spring, when I get Good Friday off from work. I feel it at least once a week when someone reminds me that Tennessee is "the buckle of the Bible Belt".
The influence is pervasive and often unnoticed, but here where I live it is always present.
Showing posts with label gay marriage. Show all posts
Showing posts with label gay marriage. Show all posts
Thursday, April 18, 2013
Monday, April 26, 2010
Last weekend, part 1
I didn't really go anywhere this weekend, because we were supposed to have rain and wind and tornado weather, so I got into doing laundry and reading and stuff instead. As such, my weekend pretty much looked like this:
with a little bit of this:
and a dash of Jeannie's kid thrown in for good measure. Not really exciting, I know, so let's talk about last weekend instead.
On Friday night after work I went down to the World's Fair Park for the 2010 Breaking the Silence event. Breaking the Silence is a local even organized by area LGBT organizations as part of the National Day of Silence, which fights anti-gay bullying and harassment in local high schools. Even though I don't know any LGBT high school students, or really many high school students at all, I think it's incredibly brave to come out in high school. My high school didn't have a Gay Straight Alliance, and if they had I wouldn't have joined because I was still working that out for myself, but maybe it would have been a little bit less of a struggle if they did.
The event started with a period of silence lasting several minutes, during which we stared at the people on stage and read the signs the front row was holding:
If you click that photo, the signs will be big enough to read, and you'll see things like, "I am afraid to hold my boyfriend's hand", "I found death threats in my locker", and "No one is proud of me". It's incredibly heartbreaking to read those things, and to know that they are true. LGBT youth are two to three times more likely to commit suicide than straight teenagers, and the most terrible thing about that loss is that it's preventable. Those suicides, which are estimated to number in the hundreds, are a direct result of discrimination, hatred, and an appalling lack of equality in our society, and they are the reason why LGBT youth need every ally they can get.
After the moment of silence was over, a chorus sang "True Colors" (everybody loves the "Glee" arrangement of that now; I hear it everywhere and have it on my own iPod) while the kids out front turned their signs over:
and that's why I think they're so brave. Even in the face of oppression, there's always hope.
The whole experience was a little odd for me because I spent a good part of last week in an email dialogue with my high school about issues related to this. Two weeks ago they emailed everyone who had listed themselves in the old alumni directory and asked if we would go re-register at their new, updated page, but when I went to do so I found myself somewhat put off by the "married life" section. The name caught my eye first, and then I got more annoyed as I read the section and discovered that you could be married or not, and could only list the name of a spouse. What if you were widowed? Divorced? Unmarried, or unable to get married, but in a committed relationship? Where were the boxes for those people?
Rather than complete the survey, I sent an email to the webmaster:
I think that's a little bitchy, but not terrible. I waited a week without a response, and mentioned it to my mom on the phone. She got all kinds of irritated, especially since the current superintendant was the assistant principal when we were students and she never liked him, and wanted to go to the school board meeting to make a complaint, but I told her to cool her jets and at least let me send a followup email before she went into full nuclear offensive mode.
I emailed the superintendant directly:
That last part is a bit of a fabrication, as I actually remember my high school as having some pretty severe issues with racial tension, but I wanted to try to end on a positive note after using the word "disappointed" about three hundred times in one email.
This finally provoked a response, but not from the superintendant himself. Instead, he delegated my letter out to someone in the business office who spent two paragraphs explaining that they were all gone for spring break and that I should have used the "Contact Us" button rather than replying to the webmaster, and then went on to explain that they had used an outside vendor for the alumni form, that they agreed that my concerns were valid, and that they would contact the vendor to see about making changes. I sent him a nice response thanking them for their attention, and then he wrote back to say that the vendor actually can't make any changes at this time, but would consider it for future updates to the software.
My reaction to this is mixed. On the one hand, it's really nice that they responded to my concern and attempted to find a solution. On the other hand, it's kind of sad that when the school district was looking for an updated product to begin with, nobody read this and thought, "Hey, this isn't really inclusive". Maybe next time they work on something like this, they'll think of that.
Like I said before, there's always hope.
with a little bit of this:
and a dash of Jeannie's kid thrown in for good measure. Not really exciting, I know, so let's talk about last weekend instead.
On Friday night after work I went down to the World's Fair Park for the 2010 Breaking the Silence event. Breaking the Silence is a local even organized by area LGBT organizations as part of the National Day of Silence, which fights anti-gay bullying and harassment in local high schools. Even though I don't know any LGBT high school students, or really many high school students at all, I think it's incredibly brave to come out in high school. My high school didn't have a Gay Straight Alliance, and if they had I wouldn't have joined because I was still working that out for myself, but maybe it would have been a little bit less of a struggle if they did.
The event started with a period of silence lasting several minutes, during which we stared at the people on stage and read the signs the front row was holding:
If you click that photo, the signs will be big enough to read, and you'll see things like, "I am afraid to hold my boyfriend's hand", "I found death threats in my locker", and "No one is proud of me". It's incredibly heartbreaking to read those things, and to know that they are true. LGBT youth are two to three times more likely to commit suicide than straight teenagers, and the most terrible thing about that loss is that it's preventable. Those suicides, which are estimated to number in the hundreds, are a direct result of discrimination, hatred, and an appalling lack of equality in our society, and they are the reason why LGBT youth need every ally they can get.
After the moment of silence was over, a chorus sang "True Colors" (everybody loves the "Glee" arrangement of that now; I hear it everywhere and have it on my own iPod) while the kids out front turned their signs over:
and that's why I think they're so brave. Even in the face of oppression, there's always hope.
The whole experience was a little odd for me because I spent a good part of last week in an email dialogue with my high school about issues related to this. Two weeks ago they emailed everyone who had listed themselves in the old alumni directory and asked if we would go re-register at their new, updated page, but when I went to do so I found myself somewhat put off by the "married life" section. The name caught my eye first, and then I got more annoyed as I read the section and discovered that you could be married or not, and could only list the name of a spouse. What if you were widowed? Divorced? Unmarried, or unable to get married, but in a committed relationship? Where were the boxes for those people?
Rather than complete the survey, I sent an email to the webmaster:
Hi!
I started to update my contact information on the new webpage, but was a little put off by the "married life" section. As one of many gay IRC alumni, I feel that it would be more representative if the section included a space for partner information and maybe a more inclusive title, like "family life". You may get more of a response that way, as all of the alumni could feel included.
I think that's a little bitchy, but not terrible. I waited a week without a response, and mentioned it to my mom on the phone. She got all kinds of irritated, especially since the current superintendant was the assistant principal when we were students and she never liked him, and wanted to go to the school board meeting to make a complaint, but I told her to cool her jets and at least let me send a followup email before she went into full nuclear offensive mode.
I emailed the superintendant directly:
I’m not sure that you’d remember me, but I am a member of the class of 1993, and think that you were Assistant Principal when I was a student. I’d double check, but my yearbooks are at home with my parents, who still live and pay taxes in the district. While I’ve traveled pretty far from Philly since graduating, I still visit often, and have watched the changes and expansions at the high school with interest.
I’m writing to you because I received an email from the IRC webmaster last week, inviting me to sign up for the new alumni database. I followed the link provided to fill in my demographic information and discovered a problem: the “married life” section. The only options given are for alumni to be married or unmarried, which is not inclusive of all alumni. As one of four gay or lesbian alumni that I know of in my graduating class alone, I’m disappointed that the survey does not allow me to list a partner or to reflect that I may be in a partnered relationship. Thinking of my other classmates, several of whom I am still in contact with, this section also does not allow them to reflect a divorced or widowed status.
It is disappointing to see that a directory that is supposed to include all alumni seems to casually disregard the family status of so many of them. I replied to the webmaster’s email with this feedback last Monday, and am even more disappointed to say that not only did I not receive the professional courtesy of a response of any kind, but when I reviewed the survey today before sending this email I noted that no changes have been made. While I always remember Indian River as a welcoming place for a diverse population of students, I am saddened to see that this no longer seems to be the case, based on the way that the alumni are viewed.
That last part is a bit of a fabrication, as I actually remember my high school as having some pretty severe issues with racial tension, but I wanted to try to end on a positive note after using the word "disappointed" about three hundred times in one email.
This finally provoked a response, but not from the superintendant himself. Instead, he delegated my letter out to someone in the business office who spent two paragraphs explaining that they were all gone for spring break and that I should have used the "Contact Us" button rather than replying to the webmaster, and then went on to explain that they had used an outside vendor for the alumni form, that they agreed that my concerns were valid, and that they would contact the vendor to see about making changes. I sent him a nice response thanking them for their attention, and then he wrote back to say that the vendor actually can't make any changes at this time, but would consider it for future updates to the software.
My reaction to this is mixed. On the one hand, it's really nice that they responded to my concern and attempted to find a solution. On the other hand, it's kind of sad that when the school district was looking for an updated product to begin with, nobody read this and thought, "Hey, this isn't really inclusive". Maybe next time they work on something like this, they'll think of that.
Like I said before, there's always hope.
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Pride and a little bit of Prejudice
I didn't got to Pride Fest last year. It was hot, and I didn't have anyone to go with, and I didn't know if I'd see anyone I knew downtown, and I was probably playing video games or making deviled eggs or something and convinced myself that going would be a hassle and not fun.
This year, in light of the passage of Prop 8 in California in November, the inclusion of Rick Warren at the inauguration despite his anti-gay views, President Obama's postponing of his campaign promise to address "Don't Ask, Don't Tell", the Justice Department's recent brief supporting the Defense of Marriage Act equating gay marriage and incest, and the general tone of the country, I decided it was important to continue having a voice, and to be a vocal member of my community. While it's easy to support a Pride Festival in San Francisco or New York City, where attendance numbers in the thousands, it's just as important to support in places like Knoxville where LGBT people are a small, often forgotten minority.
Next thing you know, I'll even have a bumper sticker on my car.
Or an official pair of "Friend of Dorothy" shoes:
Then again, I can't walk in heels as well as that guy did, so maybe not.
Not only did I go to Pride, but I brought Jess and Megs, even though they're straight. Jess wore her "Gay? Fine with me" t shirt, and I had on my "OUT" t shirt with our university logo:
When we were walking up to Gay Street (is it a coincidence that the Pride Parade route is right down Gay Street, of all streets in town?) from the parade staging area on State Street:
some guy and his wife walked past and looked at our shirts, and he whispered to her, "See? I think something's going on today." I think so, too, mister, but you didn't have to sprint for your car.
The three of us walked around for a little while, looking at restaurants and wondering if the lunch special was a coincidence:
and we watched the guy blowing giant bubbles for a while:
and then it was time for the parade in the 96 degree heat.
Our beloved Hard Knox Roller Girls turned out to be supportive, giving out flyers for the next home game:
I was kind of hoping they might clobber someone just for fun, but it probably better that they not do that on asphalt.
I was surprised by the number of churches that attended:
I'm not really ready to go to church, and may never be (but I have been thinking about it and, believe it or not, praying lately; it turns out that I may believe in some sort of God after all, but definitely have not softened toward organized religion), but it's nice knowing that there are options nearby where I might feel welcome if I did want to attend.
While the churches were a surprise to me, the rest of the parade was not, because no Pride Parade would be complete without Dykes on Bikes:
shirtless dancing guys:
and a couple trucks full of drag queens:
Hot, sweaty drag queens. Once the parade was over, we didn't stick around long, because it was really crowded and there was no shade:
Right after I took that last picture, a guy walked past us complaining loudly to his friend that "they're all going to Hell, you know". That part wasn't terribly surprising, either, and that's why it's important to show up to this stuff even if it is hot and sweaty and you don't feel like leaving the house.
This year, in light of the passage of Prop 8 in California in November, the inclusion of Rick Warren at the inauguration despite his anti-gay views, President Obama's postponing of his campaign promise to address "Don't Ask, Don't Tell", the Justice Department's recent brief supporting the Defense of Marriage Act equating gay marriage and incest, and the general tone of the country, I decided it was important to continue having a voice, and to be a vocal member of my community. While it's easy to support a Pride Festival in San Francisco or New York City, where attendance numbers in the thousands, it's just as important to support in places like Knoxville where LGBT people are a small, often forgotten minority.
Next thing you know, I'll even have a bumper sticker on my car.
Or an official pair of "Friend of Dorothy" shoes:
Then again, I can't walk in heels as well as that guy did, so maybe not.
Not only did I go to Pride, but I brought Jess and Megs, even though they're straight. Jess wore her "Gay? Fine with me" t shirt, and I had on my "OUT" t shirt with our university logo:
When we were walking up to Gay Street (is it a coincidence that the Pride Parade route is right down Gay Street, of all streets in town?) from the parade staging area on State Street:
some guy and his wife walked past and looked at our shirts, and he whispered to her, "See? I think something's going on today." I think so, too, mister, but you didn't have to sprint for your car.
The three of us walked around for a little while, looking at restaurants and wondering if the lunch special was a coincidence:
and we watched the guy blowing giant bubbles for a while:
and then it was time for the parade in the 96 degree heat.
Our beloved Hard Knox Roller Girls turned out to be supportive, giving out flyers for the next home game:
I was kind of hoping they might clobber someone just for fun, but it probably better that they not do that on asphalt.
I was surprised by the number of churches that attended:
I'm not really ready to go to church, and may never be (but I have been thinking about it and, believe it or not, praying lately; it turns out that I may believe in some sort of God after all, but definitely have not softened toward organized religion), but it's nice knowing that there are options nearby where I might feel welcome if I did want to attend.
While the churches were a surprise to me, the rest of the parade was not, because no Pride Parade would be complete without Dykes on Bikes:
shirtless dancing guys:
and a couple trucks full of drag queens:
Hot, sweaty drag queens. Once the parade was over, we didn't stick around long, because it was really crowded and there was no shade:
Right after I took that last picture, a guy walked past us complaining loudly to his friend that "they're all going to Hell, you know". That part wasn't terribly surprising, either, and that's why it's important to show up to this stuff even if it is hot and sweaty and you don't feel like leaving the house.
Monday, November 17, 2008
topical, weighty political thoughts that have been chewing up my stomach
I don't live in California. I don't have any foster children. I don't have a husband. If my history of picking boyfriends is any indication, I will never have a husband, because my boyfriend will be a jerk. Despite all of that, I've been walking around since the election with this kind of hollow, punched in the stomach feeling. I know I should be celebrating because the Democrats won, and everything will be all right now. I know everyone says this is a victory for civil rights and equality and oh my God, all our prejudices have been triumphed over and fallen away, but the truth is that Tuesday the 4th really blew for gay people. It's hard to feel happy when you feel marginalized and betrayed.
I left out shock, but there was a lot of that, too. Out of all states in the union, you would think gay rights wouldn't have a problem in California. California, the land of fruits and nuts, the home of the gay mafia and the liberal Hollywood elite, the state where gay people have been getting married for months without the world coming to an end or the institution of marriage collapsing entirely. Sure, they have that Republican governor, but California is a blue state. How could they have trouble in a blue state?
It's the blue state part that really stings. As a gay person, I've always thought the Democrats were my friends. They're about inclusion, and tolerance, and liberalism. They want to help people, and lift people up, and watch out for the little guy. Yeah, the Democrats gave us "don't ask, don't tell", but it was so easy to blame that sad compromise on the Republicans, because everyone knows they're evil and corrupt and wrong. Democrats stand for change we can believe in, and hope, and all that happy holding hands rainbow coalition brotherhood kumbaya, but based on the election results, Democrats also stand for exclusion. Democrats stand for stripping people of their legally granted rights. Democrats stand for inequality. 52% of California decided that the thousand legal rights granted freely to anyone with a marriage license should only be available to people who insert Tab A into Slot B, and at least part of that 52% of California is solidly Democratic.
Maybe I should just register as an Independent and be done with it.
I know it's the word "marriage" that throws a lot of people, but that's not a term a lot of people asked for. "Marriage" is the term the United States applied to the union that lets you file joint tax returns, and be the designated next of kin, and receive spousal pension benefits. I want nothing to do with the marriages that go on in church. Church and me, we don't always get along, and it's best that I avoid them. The marriages that go on at the courthouse, on the other hand, should be open to all people who pay taxes, and vote, and want to join themselves to another person. "Separate but equal" should be abolished, not enshrined in the constitution of California or any other state. The majority of the country should never be allowed to decide what rights the minority is eligible to enjoy. If anyone tried to strip marriage rights from Asians or right-handed people or anyone over the age of thirty five the public outcry would be defeaning, but this election has taught us that homophobia is the last acceptable social prejudice.
A black man can be President, but he can't bring a First Husband with him, and those two things were decided on the same ballot. Is it a triumph, or a failure?
On Saturday a group called Join the Impact scheduled over 300 nationwide protests, rallies, and demonstrations. There was at least one in every state, and they were all scheduled to start at exactly the same time, 1:30 PM EST. I wasn't expecting a lot from ours, since we live in the red end of a pretty red state, but I went anyway. I don't live in California and I don't have a husband, but I have a voice, and I would like for it to be heard.
I don't know if we accomplished anything on Saturday. I don't know if it changed anyone's mind or made anyone rethink their vote or even gave anyone a moment's pause, but I feel better knowing that I did something, and took some kind of action to combat my sinking feeling of disbelief that the most democratic country in the world, a republic of the people, for the people, and by the people considers me a second-class person.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)