Willful Ignorance?

I was at my college this week to sign up for my first classes. Now, in typical college fashion, this was turned into a day-long event, complete with two meals, four presentations (for the students. Parents had about six of their own), and an activities fair. The fair was set up at the end, and we (students) passed by it on the way to our final meeting. The first table to my left bled rainbows.

We walked by.

When we got to the next room, however, the previous session was still going on. We waited outside for about ten minutes, and since the other group showed no signs of stopping, I thought I'd go down and try to sneak away some literature from the display. It wouldn't be hard, I reasoned. Whoever was manning that booth would surely understand that some people need secrecy and wouldn't make a scene by trying to call me back. I was just entering the crowded fair area when I saw familiar faces.

Of course my parents would be there. And they saw me (thankfully before I had even turned towards the rainbows) and came to talk. My mother had been worrying, in typical mother fashion, about if I would get a good room and roommate and if there would be parties on my floor and how likely it was that my roommate would stab me in my sleep, and so had asked questions of the Housing Booth.

She explained how everything would work out (as I'd assured her), and mentioned that the my roommate wouldn't be drinking. My father chimed in to explain that the university matched roommates on the profiles we filled out, concentrating on alcohol consumption, tobacco use, and "LGBLMNOP or whatever".

Having never imagined my father even attempting to LGBTQ, much less during a secret excursion of mine to obtain materials on said topic, I was dumbfounded into saying "What?"

"LGwhateverQ friendliness," my mom supplied. "What did you put down?"

There are moments when you feel certain that everything might be about to fall apart. This was one of mine. I delayed for an extra two seconds by saying "No drinking, no smoking."

Then, "Friendly."

Half of me was shocked that my parents did not then (or anytime later) accuse me of the truth because I was LGBTQ-friendly. The other half was shocked that they weren't suddenly afeared tha' sum dirty homosekshul was gon' rape me. They responded with nods. Merely nods. And then my dad asked me what the Q was for in LGBTQ.

I answered, and he asked how that was different from LGB or T. I explained. Though he seemed skeptical of the existence of Queer folk outside of LGBT, he accepted my answer without questioning how I knew. Which brings me to my point.

I only know all of this because I'm gay. My interest in the topic has led to my explorations that have taught me so much. There is no way I would have just happened to learn this in everyday life. That doesn't happen in Conservative Christian County. Beyond my knowledge, I am a musical theatre nerd, I practically worship Gaga (with a clear love for her Born This Way message), I watch Glee religiously, I reference how in love I am with both male and female stars, I've insinuated that the world would be a better place were same-sex marriage legal, and I've said to my mother's face at least that I hold gender to be a societal construction. Straight men can do any or all of those things. But they all smack of the Gay.

Do my parents really not know?

Are they in a state of willful ignorance because they don't want to bear the truth? Are they ensconced in some belief that no good Christian turns gay? Are they waiting for me to tell them? Do they think it's an attention-getter, or that I'm participating in that stupid act-gay ritual to prove I'm straight thing that they do now?

Do they just not see it?




Note: Acting in any way does not and should not imply homosexuality. However, there tends to be correlation, and for someone like me, all signs point towards fabulous. Stereotypes are not necessarily true, but all stereotypes are true sometimes.

Battling Bigotry

I've known for as many years as I've known I was gay that I live in an intolerant place. This week, though, I learned I had underestimated the intolerance. Sure, 'gay' and 'fag' are slung around with impunity. Sure, that girl gets called a dyke because she's, as far as the abusers are concerned, ugly, or fat, or simply not feminine enough to fit their paradigm. Sure, Obama's (glorious, groundbreaking, heaven-sent) announcement that he supports marriage equality proves to everyone in the school that he is, in fact, gay, because only queers like queers.

But one incident this week showed me the depths of the stupidity around me.

We pray during the first class of the day, and our teacher takes prayer requests. The second request was from my best friend in the world, and it was thanks for Obama's support for marriage equality (and she did say 'marriage equality', which shows exactly where she stands).

The ambient noise of the class stopped. Everyone stared at her. I smiled wider than I ever have (while using all my theatrical training to resist the burning in my cheeks which I felt would affirm my homosexuality). On being questioned, my friend backed up her claim with the fact that it may very well help prevent gay suicides, which are at pandemic proportions. My teacher was flustered, clearly shocked at how such a good, smart little girl held such satanic views. She gathered herself.

"I don't think I can pray for that."

She built her base around the inherent (unexplained in this instance) immorality of homosexuality, and then she said the most backwards words I'd heard in the school. I've heard my psychology teacher state that homosexuality is 'just... immoral!' I've heard my world religions teacher claim that 'the bible is clear it's [teh gay] wrong. No question.' (it isn't, by the way. Definite gray area). I've heard a guest speaker talk about his gay uncle, who always seems sad at reunions, and that it's because he has no family (because, you know, gays can't have kids).

But this? This takes the case. This masters degree holding, published, friendly woman opened her mouth and said "I think it's a choice."

Really? So I chose to oppose every 'traditional family value' (I hate those words) that my family taught me in some sort of act of rebellion? I woke up one day and thought, "Hey, you know what? I want to quadruple my risk of suicide? And let's get some bullying up in here. And if that fails to brighten my mood, maybe Fred Phelps can tell me how much God hates me. Yeah, that'll be fun!"

She added that actions open the door a bit more, and a bit more. You apparently become gay by doing gay things. Which falls apart quickly. I was never molested. I never did anything romantic with anyone (male or female). Sex never touched my life until well after I knew I was attracted to boys and stumbled across a gay porn site. I was gay before I witnessed, much less engaged in, anything gay (indeed, I haven't engaged in anything gay by any definition).

I was amazed she even said that. What was more amazing (in a good way) was after the prayer when my best friend said "And thank you, God, for Obama." She didn't just offer thanks for what the class viewed as the destruction of marriage. She offered thanks for the man who had done, the man who I'm sure some still claim is the Antichrist.

I love her.

The next day, between prayer requests and the prayer, the teacher asked my friend if she had any more 'thanks for Obama'. She said it the same way one might repeat a friend's unintentional misspeaking. A humorous reminder of oh, how wrong you were. She thinks she won.

Oh, how wrong she is.

I am writing a research paper now. I am going to cite every single word of it with scientifically sound studies. I will make it blatantly clear that homosexuality (or any sexuality, really) is not a choice. Then I will show how gay marriage is the only reasonable course. I am going to use every rhetorical skill she taught me. I am going to use every ounce of the writing ability God has given me. I am going to begin the career of activism my entire life will continue.

I don't expect to change her mind. But I will send a message. The gay is here, and it ain't goin' nowhere.

Someone has to tell her.

What Happens When the Closet Opens?

I'm a likeable young man. I dress very well, rarely going without a tie. I address adults respectfully, and I have some measure of both wit and charm. When I do things, I do them well. This has caused a lot of people to be interested, in some respect, in my life.

My science-teacher-turned-principal from grade school often inquires after me. Children I don't recognize often say hi to me. That's probably because I am asked to help lead Vacation Bible School every year. I've become something of a role model to some, and an older brother to others. I've taught hundreds.

What happens after I come out?

My parents will have to learn because they're stuck with me. So that's fine.

I know my family will be fine. I mean, my grandmothers might have issues, but everyone except my parents are either without particular faith, or of a particularly open Christianity (and there might be a Hindu, but they're pretty cool with everything).  So that's great.

Some people will be able to just write me off as a God-hating faggot and move on. So that's okay too.

What about the others, though? I know I've become a brother substitute at least once over. That's too close to write off and far enough that sticking with me isn't mandatory. Then, as a role model I try to espouse those values I hold dear. Tolerance, love, and being true to oneself (because my life is apparently a Lady Gaga song). Will those stay taught once the 'old Luke' is dead?

I don't want to be like the star quarterback the whole town loves who eventually is found dead of a heroin overdose and quickly forgotten. I don't want to be swept under the rug. My parents work at a conservative Christian institution. Will they just stop having a son as far as their coworkers are concerned? Will they be pitied? Will they be seen as bad parents (which would be stupid because they're amazing parents)?

I know I'll survive. I know I'll try to reconcile the apparent disparity between my 'two lives' to those whom it would most affect.

I'll have to rip off this band aid one day.

I hope it doesn't hurt anyone.

Beginning to Battle

So I've just finished up my last high school play. Which is the end of high school for me, more or less. The drama department was more my family than anything but my family. Besides that, even in Conservative Christian County, our drama departments have the highest concentration of the Gay. I can count at least two being in the department at the same time, as well as at least four open supporters of equality.

But of course, even in the fabled gay sanctuary of the Theatre, there are the ignorant. Take for example, my friend and protege of sorts, Ian. Ian and I more or less shared lead positions in the play, and so we were often alone in the locker room (no green room for us) changing from one tuxedo to another for our next scene in two minutes.

Now, n high school, among hormonal, insecure boys, it is common to assert heterosexuality and masculinity by farcically acting gay to prove how comfortably straight you are. Combine that with my actual homosexuality and thus interest in the topic, and queer conversations make up a great part of my speech.

I don't know how we got on the topic this time (perhaps I was discussing my future marriage to Chris Colfer with whom, though I am not openly gay and a surprising number of people seem to have no idea that I am, I am openly in love), but we got there, and he made some sort of casual, spiteless-but-ignorantly-homophobic comment, to which I replied that I could biblically defend homosexuality. His exact reply was "I would be interested in hearing that."

We talked, and I hit all my major points, and his boiled down to "Gay sex is gross" (response: "Sex is gross") and "Gays have no religion", which I conceded is not entirely baseless (though I pointed how the Church drove us away for years. It would be much easier to lose my faith if I felt I had to give up the love our culture so tells me I need).

I didn't win. I didn't change his mind. But I've planted a seed. He's open for continued talks. I've invited a friend of mine who is LGBTQ-supportive (though I believe she yet believes gay acts to be sin) to join us. I hope we do continue to talk.

At the end, though, I asked him if he'd attend my wedding with Chris Colfer.

He said yes. He'd be 'very uncomfortable' and it would be 'weird'. But that's miles from the fire and brimstone some would hurl. It shows some level of tolerance. In Conservative Christian County, this is progress. It's a sign of accepting times.

It's a sign of hope.

Coming Out Countdown

Remember when I said, "My plan is to let my parents know [I'm gay] sometime after I no longer depend upon them at all financially and sometime before I get engaged. Which will be a while."? (source) I've almost entered that window.

I thought I had time. I'm not even out of high school yet, and I've never held down a job. Surely with a mountain of debt coming my way, I could blissfully skip along rainbows for years amongst friends, and simply resume the washed out grayscale life of closet life when home. But thanks to a scholarship, I don't have a penny of debt coming towards me, while my college fund (now unneeded) remains.

Within four months, I'll have money to my name and no demands upon it. I'll have passed the financially independent threshold.

The countdown will begin.

What's worse is that I have no idea how long I'll have. I might be well into grad school before I meet anyone worth marrying. But maybe not. Remember Travis? My freshman year role model who turned out to be as gay as the day is long? This very month, he ended up engaged. Academically, he's only three years ahead of me. Age-wise, he's hardly more than two ahead.

I'm willing to marry young if I meet the right person. I could be where he is soon enough. A month ago, I felt like I still had forever. Now, I'm mentally making notes on my coming out email. Or series of emails. Or whatever I do.

Almost as if to make it worse (in a way I do not begrudge in the least), my bestie is in the throes of infatuation. And we talk about him, and it's fun, but as I side effect, I'm falling in love with love. Which means I've thought more about my wedding in the past few weeks than in the preceding eighteen years.

Which means I wonder if my parents will be there.

I'v heard wonderful, heartwarming stories. But I've heard the bad ones too. There's a reason that there have been so very many gay suicides. Thankfully, I know I could lose my family and live.

But I'd rather keep them.

I Don't Get People

It boggles me the way people think. People have the strangest thoughts, and while I'm sure I have ways of thinking many don't understand, some things leave me dumbfounded.

The best example would be many of my peers' opinions on homosexuality and how the law should deal with it. I understand perfectly that they consider it a sin, and that is a perfectly valid stance. But they also hold the doctrine that, in the eyes of God, all sins are equal. Now these people clearly have their own sins, which they themselves would classify as sins: damaging drug/alcohol use, premarital sex, pride, theft, even gossip.

Yet they hold homosexuality as a sin above sins. They staunchly oppose gay marriage (and therefore oppose encouraging committed monogamy against 2-10% of the population). I'm certain they would never advocate similar prohibition against anything in their list of problems, though.

Yet which is more destructive? Gay marriage shows economic boosts, often takes children from foster care, and produces mentally sound offspring. Gossip destroys relationships, theft harms the economy, pride leads to harmful selfishness, premarital sex can spread STDs, and drugs and alcohol can destroy people entirely.

The government's job isn't to lay down holy law, as interpreted by conservative Christians. Its job is to protect and help its people. Gay marriage protects people by normalizing gay relationships and preventing the bullying that makes it commonplace to read about gay suicides. Gay marriage helps people by boosting the economy and giving children parents. There is no reason beyond religion to oppose gay marriage.

As an aside, I'd like to defend homosecuality from a religious standpoint. Matthew 7:17-18 says Even so, every good tree bringeth forth good fruit; but a corrupt tree bringeth forth evil fruit. A good tree cannot bring forth evil fruit, neither can a corrupt tree bring forth good fruit. From where I stand, gay marriage and loving gay relationships bring forth good fruit.

I'm more inclined to believe Jesus than five or six scattered passages that can be interpreted multiple ways, you know?

Just a Nature v Nurture Musing

So I have only had one person in my life who ever was anything like a role model. Let's call him Travis. Now, Travis was a senior when I started high school. He was in drama. He was in forensics. He had a distinct style of dress.

He was fabulous.

He became a role model for me because he did everything I liked and he did them well. Years later, I used facebook to invade his privacy and I discovered he was dating. But Travis wasn't just dating any old person, no. He was dating a guy/boy/man/dude/male/not-girl.

That cool senior I looked up to as a sexually-confused freshman turned out to be gay (well, maybe bi, but in this environment, you would be very unlikely to ever act on any urge towards the same sex if you could find another way) was somehow poetic.

Here's the thing, though. I liked him chiefly because of his aptitude and love for the theatre, which I share. I also liked him for his fabulous fashion choices (I'm no fashionista, but I can appreciate). However, I liked him because we shared interests, and apparently we share a sexuality.

Now let's go to another theatre. Broadway. I couldn't find any statistics, but I think you'll agree that a lot of men in the theatre are gay, no? And musical theatre is stereotypically a gay passion, which has some basis in truth, no?

So, if all of these gay men have similar interests, does it not follow that homosexuality is somewhat genetic (which I know has been repeatedly shown, but some people refuse to see)? Aptitudes and interests are based in the genetic code, though of course they change based on how they are fostered. It seems to me, though, that if many gays love theatre, then some gay genes are also theatre genes (though, of course, not all theatre genes are gay, sad as that is).

So, yes, I did just make an entire post to present my speculation into what is more or less proven.

Being Gay and Loving God

I was away all this past week, nearly, and thus I'm not only a bit delayed ;osting this (still Monday!), but I have nothing written. Thank the Lord I have this essay to share with you. Now, don't be afraid of it; it is an essay and it is lengthy, but it is one of the few coherent, intelligent arguments that support homosexuality in a Christian context. Just give it a look. If you're Chrisitan, it may give you what you need, and if you aren't, you can still use it to debate homosexuality with the terms being used against you.

http://www.gaychristian.net/justins_view.php#5

Again, sorry about not writing. I'll do something for Wednesday. I can't safely write in secret for Wednesday (no worries) so it might be a while. Surely by Monday, though.

When You Love the Wrong Person

While I had romantic notions ever since realizing my sexuality halfway through eighth grade (and probably further back but never noticed), my first real crush started my first day of high school. I was an advanced freshman, and so I ended up in Algebra II with the sophomores and juniors. After my initial terror, it soon became apparent that no one was going to pay me any mind, so I was free to watch them. While the teacher was droning on about the syllabus, I looked around me. 

My world stopped when I saw him. He had beautiful brown eyes and dark brown hair that swept gently over them. His nose was just, slightly upturned which, coupled with his beautiful grin, gave him the cutest mischievous look imaginable. His skin was the color of caramel, darkened by what I later learned was his native american heritage. His laugh was practically musical.

Of course, that laugh was only being brought on by notes from his girlfriend. Because he was straight. Because they're always straight. 

I pined for months, trying to never stare, and always trying to see him more. I was hopelessly in love, and I didn't know his name for weeks. And in the end, I finally stopped feeling those feelings that wouldn't get me anywhere (and then I fell for another straight boy). 

I made it so much worse for myself than I needed to. Yes, I ended up, through no fault of anyone's, liking the wrong person, and so was guaranteed a special hell until the love left (which it never does fully, it seems). But the thing is, I obsessed over it. Sure, I thought about him when we were in the same room or (joy of joys!) speaking, but did I have to lie awake thinking about him, constructing elaborate scenarios that would lead to him coming out to me (girlfriend or not)? 

I let it grow even worse. Liking the wrong person is hell, but it's stupid to make it worse by your own hand. I couldn't change that I saw him and heard him, but I shouldn't have nurtured every errant thought about him that drifted into my head. It couldn't be, and no excuse on my part could make that better. 

It's a hell, but all you can do is live it and wait for it to die. 

It will.

The Bright Side of the Rainbow (Mid-Week Mini Post!)

Being gay is hard. It is an awfully, dreadfully, terrifyingly hard thing. I've read of even atheists trying to pray the gay away, because who wants to live in the ire of so many people? It isn't always rainbows and unicorns.

But sometimes it is.

One of the best things, I think, about being gay is the music. And, no, I don't mean Born This Way, necessarily, nor that ever-popular classic Dancing Queen, nor my new favorite Andrew in Drag (which also supports last weeks post). I mean every single popular song since the dawn of time can be read (heard?) as gay. 

Y'see, if being gay is so scary, so lonely, it follows that any song about/addressed to any angsty teenager applies perfectly to the rainbow demographic. Firework is a recent addition to the list of gay anthems on Wikipedia (I love that site). It works, because of course we've all felt 'like a plastic bag drifting through the wind'.  Everyone has, but being gay (or bi or trans or whatever you happen to be) gives us all something we can always be deliciously sad about to be able to be reminded that we are a firework. 

I realize that my example, being on the gay anthem list, isn't the best, so  let's look at something else. From pop to punk, we go to 21 Guns. Any GLBTWhatever person knows exactly what is 'worth fighting for but not worth dying for'. Or maybe it is worth dying for. Your choice. However, it exactly catches what we all feel sometimes.

Of course, with American Idiot now on Broadway, Green Day is now an officially gay band, right? Let's try again with the World Cup Anthem, Waka Waka (the real version, not the English). It's really a battle song, right? But it, like everything, matches our problems. Being reminded that we need to start from zero to touch the sky gives a ring of hope to us all. What if we lose something because of whom we love? We'll start from there and touch that cielo, no?

Of course, South Africa is the most gay-friendly African state, so maybe its world cup's song shouldn't count. So, continuing in the theme of the odd (as far as the American readers are concerned), what about the winner of the 2011 Eurovision Song Contest, Running Scared? This poorly lip-synched song from Azerbaijan juxtaposes love and fear. Isn't that the heart of all gay angst (gayngst, maybe)? Even in East Europe, the music is pretty darn gay.

So even though life is hard, even with all the pointless fighting, there's always something that will apply directly to you on the radio, even in Azerbaijan.

Oh, and this.

Standing up for the Right

If you're at all like me, you have grand, grand plans. You've gone through far too many scenarios in your head for when something unjust is being done, whether to you or in front of your eyes. There's a secret part of you that almost wants to be outed so that someone will call you a fag and you can just say "Yes," and walk away, leaving them wondering why they didn't hurt you. 

Maybe a year ago, I was utterly infatuated with the only other gay guy in school. He's closeted, but it's an open secret to the point that I've overheard girls debating if he's really gay or not. In that darkest, bravest part of my heart, I dreamed that one day some bigots would begin to bully him when (conveniently) I was the only one around, and I, in my 125 pound glory, would step in and save him and he would love me and we'd end up married in Paris.

That's how we view our coming actions, right? We plan our crusades, and we know that when the time comes we will be the hero the world needs. First we'll stop a bigot, then save a life, and then cure AIDS, cancer, and unhappiness, and then bioengineer unicorns, because gays deserve unicorns, dang it!

It all seems so possible when you're lying in bed awake at night. 

I, at least, am useless in person right now. Sure, I write a gay blog on the internet, and I have a novel-in-progress about equality, and I have a secret love story (not romance) I want to pen called Adam and Steve, and and and. Most of these things aren't done, and what I do do is so little.

Then I get to school and someone calls something gay. I just keep walking. In Conservative Christian County here, even teachers say it. And what do I do? Nothing. Sometimes I want to write an email to the counselor under a pseudonym telling her that there are gay students who could be hurt by comments. But then I worry she could trace it to me, both by the fact that I have a relatively unique writing voice in the school and because I'm as flaming as a closet case can be.

So I don't do that.

Then I think I'll write the email when I come out in the future. But that won't be for a long time. My plan is to let my parents know sometime after I no longer depend upon them at all financially and sometime before I get engaged. Which will be a while.

So I can't do that.

So I don't do anything.

My best friend is much, much better. You really ought to see her. I remember clearly when some idiot freshman made a comment that all gays go to hell, and she became a beautifully terrifying Valkyrie. She flew at him with both scripture and science, and he actually changed his view somewhat and apologized a few days later. It was glorious.

I did nothing, of course.

Maybe it isn't bad that I do nothing sometimes. I mean it really is best to hold your tongue when the other option could actually place you in physical danger. But I've certainly done less than I should. It isn't that we all need to champion gay rights, but we all ought to champion peace and love and tolerance. And I don't. As wonderful as my plans are, I don't.

The point is, we don't always do what we can. But we need to try something. My friend is a beacon of tolerance. I try through this blog, and I hope to succeed in my novels. One day, I will write that email to the counselor.

I don't always do what I should. But that doesn't mean I can stop trying.

Beyond Straight and Gay (and Bi too!)

On the first day of eighth grade, I saw Angelina Smith in chapel, and she was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. Or have since, really. The way the sun fell on her hair, the way she chatted with her friends, even the way she was wearing her makeup in the I-don't-know-what-I'm-doing-yet way she did made me gawk. A week later, I dreamt we held hands down the hall. That was it.

I knew I was gay by the New Year. Maybe. I didn't know. Did I?

The problem is, my thirteen-year-old mind had a strict dichotomy. Gays like boys and go to hell and good boys like girls and Jesus loves them very much. Mind you, I didn't really know what 'gay' meant other than heathen. The only conversation I'd even overheard about the mysterious 'gay' (outside of boring bible verses I promptly forgot) turned out to be about transsexuals, which is a whole 'nother can of rainbows.

What was happening? Was I gay, or had I liked (like, like-like liked, not just liked) Angelina? I didn't realize what I do now: sexuality is fluid, and many people have instances of not-preferred sex attraction.

As it is now, if I fell for a woman, I would still be cast into doubt. Am I really gay? What have I been doing? Where will I end up? Am I living a lie?

Who am I?

It shouldn't matter, but it does. In our society, you are gay, straight, or maybe bi (which we don't want to talk about, for some stupid reason, unless we pretend that they're 'confused'). It is considered open minded to accept all three, and that is right and good.

But it's better to say they don't exist.

You can love whom you love, regardless of gender. Orientation isn't a switch stuck in the On or Off positions. It's a handful of darts in a dartboard. It's a compass needle slowly edging from side to side. People are attracted to other people, and that's all you can say with much certainty (and that statement itself can be false in some cases).

I mean, really, there are some people who are born the wrong gender. Or sometimes without a definite gender. Yet some people act as though there are categories you can lump people in. As if there are Men and Women and Straight and Gay. And nothing else.

That's idiotic. Is a straight transwoman (born male, likes men, is female) Woman or Man in your ideology and is she Straight or Gay? There's no Biblical or Quranical precedent. So what do the mad zealots say? They act in fear because they don't know what else to do, and they don't know what else to do because they have their categories.

So, in a roundabout way, we come to my point. Sure, I identify as gay, and that is part of who I am. The sex drive is far to strong for sexuality to be a little thing for most anyone. But it's a spectrum. It's subtle. You know what else is subtle? Favorite colors. That shade of blue may be nice, but that one's too purple, and that one's not purple enough. We have very defined opinions on such matters, but do we let those opinions define us? Are there Blue Lovers and Red Lovers (and maybe some Purple Lovers, though that makes us uncomfortable so we pretend they don't exist)?

Of course not.

That is, there are, but no one cares. No one ever feels pressured to live in a Blue Loving way or make sure no one thinks they like Red. Honestly, many people don't know what color they like best, and no one knows why. I tend to despise orange (was I born that way?), but I don't mind what you do with your colors, because I don't care what anyone does with their colors.

So why don't we treat sexuality the same way? Religion has fought that for years, but I think it's clear that that doctrine is dying. It won't be soon, and it won't be easy, but we can begin to heal our inflamed need to categorize and judge. Sure, he likes boys, she likes women, he's a ladies man and she a bad boy magnet, but so what? If we can be friends with whomever we want, why can't whomever we love mean just as little (and just as much)?

So like the colors you like, but don't expect me to paint my room orange. If I do, well that doesn't matter either. And if you develop a new appreciation for red, then you go for it. Whatever floats your boat.

Live with whatever color works.

Amid Celebration

God bless you, Governor Gregoire.

Washington State has done it. Marriage equality (a term I use because I truly feel this is now a matter of equality) has been signed into law by Governor Chris Gregoire. I confess I only started following this case a month ago, and I didn't know the name Gregoire until the past two weeks. I still don't know much about her.

I do know she's Roman Catholic.

This story heartens me. With people (a term I use loosely) like Bachmann driving children to suicide in the name of religion, we need powerful figures to say that, at the very least, it isn't bad to love whomever you love. Don't get me wrong, I love Ellen, Chris Colfer, Gaga, NPH, and everyone else who fills the mainstream mind, but they all remain part of Hollywood. No matter how famous they are, they don't have the authority of lawmakers. Representatives have the voice of the people, and so their rebuke is the rebuke of the people.

Tell someone that he or she is bad often enough and they believe it.

Gregoire gives me hope. She was put into an extremely powerful position, and she acted not on how many interpret her faith (honestly, even she may be religiously opposed. I don't know), nor on how even some in her own party disagreed with her. She acted on conscience, and that is worth more than all the votes in the world.

I am biased, of course. I am a homosexual who errs on the side of liberal, but my best friend who errs on the side of conservative agrees with me here. Every ounce of research shows improved health, improved economy, improved happiness with marriage equality. Regardless of religion, the government exists to aid the people, and all this can do is aid. 


I am unable to share my joy publicly without fear of being found out. I can't contact Gregoire because her contact form requires an address, and I prefer to stay as safe as possible. I can speak safely here, behind my mask. And so I do:

Thank you, Governor Gregoire. From the bottom of my heart, thank you. Thank you Ed Murray, who sponsored the bill. Thank you for the lives saved and the families affirmed. Thank you for hope. Thank you for providing another gleam at the end of the tunnel for a scared little boy who doesn't know what he can dare to hope for anymore.

Thank you.