Whispers in the Rainbow Painted Night

Monumental. That is the only word that has been cycling through my mind today following the Supreme Court Ruling legalizing gay marriage throughout the states. Simply monumental. This is so much more than a piece of history, this is the catalyst of the gay rights movement; this is our Women’s Vote in 1920, this is our Brown vs. the Board of Education, this is the close of our Civil War. I cannot even begin to wrap my head around the significance of this vote, this ruling, this declaration of humanity in the US. There is a peace to be found in finally being recognized.

Naturally I had no doubt that SCOTUS would legalize gay marriage, they had the safety net to do it. When they were first invited to hear the mind-bending arguments against the California rulings of Proposition 8, only a handful of states had legalized gay marriage. It was politically and socially unsafe to suddenly be the trailblazers for equal rights, to force so many undetermined states into acknowledging what the majority still viewed as an abomination. No one wanted to be the ones to let gay marriage in. Let’s face it: from 2010 to 2014, doing the right thing was career suicide for the justices. But no one wanted to be the ones to extinguish the possibility of equality forever either, because they knew the change was inevitable. More and more states were moving towards legalization, and many other countries in the west have been passing equality laws for years. Waiting and biding their time, the justices shuffled their feet and turned away petitions to hear any cases on gay marriage until a fair amount of states had already taken it upon themselves to pass the laws, and when those who hadn’t were few and far between, they went for the kill. Silencing those hanging in the balance, the court ruled in favor of the rainbow, and took all the credit for what most states had to do on their own.  But their ruling has eliminated any possibilities for an opposition to file an appeal, to motion for repeal, to put a new law on the ballot or to amend a standing one. It’s all said and done.

But this of course has drawn the little cockroaches from their dark corners to begin their pouting and spouting of hatred, promises of rebellion, ignoring the ruling, even some declarations to divorce their straight partners and preachers who swear they will set themselves on fire (whatever, just call me first so I can grab the marshmallows). Perpetrators of discrimination are still demanding tolerance of their own narrow-minded and bigoted views, and others just stand in noticeably stunned silence over the loss. But as I said to one person earlier this evening, “you had a good run, 3,000 years of hatred; you need to accept that your time has come to an end.”

The suffering that the gay community has endured over the years worldwide has been unimaginable, including social stigmas, gay bashing, the exclusion from gay rights and protective anti-discrimination laws, horribly violent gay cure therapies, and even murders and genocides (it is estimated that anywhere from 10,000-25,000 homosexuals were killed by Hitler’s Third Reich movement). We’ve even been blamed for horrible events such as the Newton shootings, 9/11, global warming, and natural disasters like earthquakes, tsunamis, and hurricanes. Me personally, I wouldn’t be that offended by the insinuation, I’d be more inclined to use them as a pick up line: “hey baby, you know that earthquake last night? That was me.” *WINK*

But all jokes aside, growing up gay in the US these past few decades has been hell, as I documented more thoroughly in my previous posts, Though I have no idea how hard it was five or six decades ago, I realized earlier today that today’s generation has no idea what we have gone through, the struggle we faced, the fight we fought so they can have what we never did: security and freedom in who you are from birth to the grave. Many of my gay clients are out in the open: they have boyfriends and girlfriends at school, they’re out to parents and friends, and they’re loved and supported. Some still get bullied, but none of them have any idea who Matthew Shepard is or the torture he went through for being himself in the 90s. It's a different time and a different world, many of us had parents who struggled (and continue to struggle) through their acceptance of us. We never would have dared to be out in high school for fear of getting beaten or killed, and mind you, this was in Southern California in 2002, not Alabama 1980; the way things were such a short time ago are distant shadows for today's youth. This morning, one client haplessly raised his hands and noted “we have equal rights…yay.” Child, this deserves so much more than a slightly enthusiastic yay. This is historic. And we’ve lived to see it.

We’re equal. We can marry. Soon we will have total federal protection with anti-discrimination laws. Soon we will be able to adopt children and provide loving homes to our families all over the US. And with this comes a new revelation: we’re okay. We are normal. We don’t have to cry anymore. We don’t have to die anymore in the face of cruel, heart-rending adversity. We’re human, just like everyone else. And finally, this country thinks so too. The voices of hate have become whispers in the rainbow painted night. 

Exorcise the Gay Away!

June is LGBT pride month, which essentially means there will be a month long drought of rainbow décor and glitter in craft stores everywhere that will make the California water shortage look like Waterworld. And they certainly have something to celebrate: gaybugs have made immense amounts of progress in the last year, really within the last few months, given that the majority of states that had bans on gay marriage were challenged and the bans were overturned. It would appear that the scales have finally tipped in favor of the human rights movement, though the progress treads dangerously close to the borderline, and the percentages of proponents and opponents are sometimes varied by a few points. Public opinion obviously shifts depending on where you stand in the hemispheres of America, as seen in this unpleasant video on ABC's WhatWould You Do. There are still those who think it’s a sin, there are still those who think it’s disgusting. Most importantly, there are still those who think it’s a choice with a cure.

Conversion Therapy, once known as Gay Aversion Therapy, has lost popularity in mainstream mental health services gradually since homosexuality was eliminated as a mental disorder in the DSM in 1973. Prior to that, aversion therapies ranged from talk therapy and prayer to catatonia-inducing medications, shock treatment, and even lobotomies. Being gay was viewed as an unnatural diversion from the evolutionary, biological, spiritual, and moral norm; a disease that must be treated and cured alongside polio and leprosy. But even as early as the 1920s, individuals were starting to recognize the folly in this belief. One being Sigmund Freud, who was never really a particular favorite of mine, but scored bonus points with me when I uncovered this quote about conversion: “’in general to undertake to convert a fully developed homosexual into a heterosexual does not offer much more prospect of success than the reverse.’ Success meant making heterosexual feeling possible, not eliminating homosexual feelings.” And so many of these therapies focused on the latter; shock that was administered in pairings with “inappropriate visual stimuli”, if successful, only created a negative association to homosexual feelings. Heterosexual feelings were never fostered, and most “cured” gays were expected to live the life of a celibate or fake orgasms with their heterosexual partners. Documentaries focusing on these so-called ex-gays usually depicted men with plastered smiles on their faces, perched on a couch next to their wife, holding a bouncing baby, and seething with self-hatred and distaste for life. Some of these men eventually “regressed” back to their homosexual lifestyles once they found self-acceptance.

But these issues were from decades and even centuries ago, right? We’re no longer plagued with such ignorance. The American Psychological Association, American Psychiatric Association, American Association of Marriage and Family Therapists, the American Medical Association have all unanimously spoken out against the practice of gay conversion therapies citing the damage that it can create and the principal of the Hippocratic Oath: Do No Harm. Conversion therapy feeds into guilt and shame, which causes depression and suicidal ideations. So why is it that only recently some states are beginning to adopt bans against this harmful treatment?

Just one year ago in 2013, Governor Jerry Brown determined that it was illegal for mental health providers to administer conversion therapy to minors identifying as LGBT given that many of them were being forced into treatment by overzealous parents. New Jersey has a similar law, which means no more straightening camps, no more trivial therapy sessions, and no more private lashings (sadly, this does not apply to religious organizations such as pastors or priests, who are not licensed mental health professionals and always seem to think they can do whatever the hell they want anyways). Illinois is on its way to passing a conversion ban, as was New York, but unfortunately, ongoing passage of these protective legislations has hit obstacles.

As New York prepared passage, they were stalled because these so called ex-gays ventured out to a few meet and greets with law makers, trying to perpetuate the image that there is nothing wrong with degrading and denying your true self. Though I can’t call it a surprise, Texas has also jumped on the bandwagon as earlier this week the Republic party unveiled its anti-gay platform. In addition to claims of gays being the devil and “tearing at the fabric of society,” they argued that they “recognize the legitimacy and value of counseling which offers reparative therapy and treatment to patients who are seeking escape from the homosexual lifestyle. No laws or executive orders shall be imposed to limit or restrict access to this type of therapy.” Likewise, in spite of the excess of medical and mental health associations noted above who are against conversion, and being one of the first states to ban conversion therapy for minors, the California Association of Marriage Therapists took a subtle stance against bans as well. While acknowledging that there is nothing wrong with being gay, CAMFT refused to go so far as to speak out against conversion therapy, stating, “CAMFT acknowledges that current cultural prejudice about same-sex sexual orientation compels some clients to seek out sexual orientation change due to personal, family, or religious conflicts, or to better fit into some cultural and religious norms[…] CAMFT advises mental health professionals that do provide assistance to those who seek sexual orientation change, to do so by utilizing affirmative multi-culturally competent and client-centered approaches that recognize the negative impact of social stigma on sexual minorities and balance ethical principles of beneficence and non-maleficence (sic), justice, and respect for people’s rights and dignity.”

So yes, we know that being gay causes distress in homosexual individuals. They are constantly faced with adversity, discrimination, bullying, humiliation, and weekly if not daily reminders that their lifestyle is not moral, that they are Hell-bound, that they are dirty and second-class citizens. They are not afforded the same protections and rights as heterosexuals. They have been beaten, they have been shamed, they have been spit on and knocked down. But in what other circumstance would a mental health professional tell someone to change themselves to reduce stress from an outside source? “So your husband berates and beats you? Well let’s teach you how to stop being annoying and getting in his way.” “Oh your mom’s an alcoholic and it bothers you? Well, we’ll teach you to be a better child so she will stop drinking.” “Someone called you the N-word and burned a cross in your front yard? Well let’s start painting your skin white, and then no one will bother you.” “Oh it’s hard to be gay in today’s society? Well then, let’s straighten you out!” The responsibility of change needs to shift away from the client and out into the world.

The cornerstones of therapy are self-efficacy, self-esteem, and self-acceptance. When a gay child is distressed or depressed, it is not reflective of some innate internal struggle. It is the crushing dissonance this world has implanted in their small minds. And it grows with them; it consumes them. It is the mental health professional’s responsibility to challenge and destroy these distortions, to strengthen the client, to stand against social stigmas. As a lesbian, I can tell you, being gay is not a walk in paradise, and yes, life got hard, but I got stronger to survive it. I can’t and won’t be fixed; I’m not broken. As a mental health professional, I can tell you it’s not my job to fix anyone else who’s not broken either.

Letting it Go

Months ago I finally jumped the last obstacle of my gradual coming out party. Many of my friends and family knew, some I had told, some figured it out through social media stalking, where I was more at ease to share my life, and some just knew; I mean after all, I was nearly 30 and had never brought a man home. One of the few people I needed to tell had been one of the last: my dad. My initial coming out to my mother was a disaster, as I discussed in my previous post, and it terrified me that I would receive the same reaction from my father, so I avoided the disclosure as long as I could. But one night, as we sat down to dinner at a local restaurant, the moment seemed to present itself as I had to explain why I had cancelled our usual dinner night: because I had a Valentine’s Day date. As difficult as it was for me, my father, in his endearingly awkward manner, pored over me with unconditional support.

A week later, I sat coincidentally at the same table in the same restaurant where I had come out to my dad to have lunch with an older lesbian friend. I shared my major coming out moment and she cheered me on as we reminisced on the pain of being barricaded in the dark closet of our lives for so long. “Doesn’t it feel great to have that burden lifted?” she asked. “Now you don’t have to hide yourself anymore.”

But a cloud passed over the table as this comment hung in the air above us, because I realized the statement was encased in superficial hope rather than deep seated truth. I am still in the closet in many aspects of my life and it would seem, until the world changes as a whole and not just in fragmented progress, that’s where I will remain depending on what situation I find myself in.

The United States has made progress in leaps and bounds when it comes to the equal rights movement, as more states legalize gay marriage and same sex benefits, more states allow homosexuals to adopt, and more states are creating laws to protect individuals from same sex discrimination in the workplace. Mentality has changed as more and more people are in favor of equal rights and just basic equal treatment. But we are still scarred with the fear of rejection, harassment, and punishment for being who we are. While the world gradually gravitates toward acceptance, the trauma of our life experiences at times keeps us silent and closeted.

As I’ve grown more comfortable in my own skin, I have strengthened my ability to create the world and the life I want to be immersed in. Before, I was afraid to lose my family or friends and stayed silent to avoid offending them. Now, I have cleaned house, so to speak, of friends who were unwilling or unable to accept me for who I am; I have turned away from the family members who lamented they’d “pray for me” when they realized I was gay, like I was I leper in need of divine intervention. Before I had friends who remained when they found I was gay, but expected that I would not discuss my interests or lifestyle and changed the subject if I talked about my sexuality or my same sex crushes. Now, I do not keep the secret of me from friends and I refuse to avoid talking about my sexuality in front of them. If I have to listen to which male movie heartthrob is sexy, you will listen to my latest infatuation with my fake TV wife. Love it or leave it.

But there are still moments that stop me in my tracks. At work, I slip back into the closet, which has become a prison and a safe haven at the same time. I work with children, and while mentalities have changed, there are still those less educated in the world that associate homosexuality with pedophilia. I don’t want to see parents recoil with this revelation; I don’t want to suffer the heartache and humiliation when they request someone new to work with their child, someone straight. When I was new at work, a staff member who is deeply religious confided in me some of his anti-gay sentiment. He actually bragged to me about how he had attended a GLBT conference, ironically for our company’s Cultural Sensitivity requirements, and he badgered the presenter and confronted him with his own religious viewpoints and “truth.” I sucked the air in between my teeth and bit my tongue. Though I wanted to say so much more I was not prepared to give myself away and I did not want to be known as the new staff who was already stirring up trouble, especially since I didn’t know the overall position of gay rights within this agency. And not too long ago, I was having a discussion with my supervisor about wanting to start a family. I gritted my teeth as each statement was tapered with references to men: “you’ve got to get out and find Mr. Right,” “the right guy is out there for you,” “there are plenty of good men if you know where to look.” I don’t slight her for the comments she made; it’s typical to assume heterosexuality in this world and I’ve grown accustomed to it. Be that as it may, I wanted to let it go right there and jump out of the closet, crying out “I need a woman! And lesbian dating is hard!” But I stopped myself, checked the lock and kept myself confined to my darkened wardrobe. I had been down this road before.

Some people may think I’m a meager, spineless wimp, that I’m pathetic to linger with a toe always firmly planted in that damned closet. But the scars I bear from full workplace disclosure run deep. I was open at a previous job. I hadn’t hidden it from my supervisor, who was also the director of the agency. And then the world came crashing down and I found how much this could damage me. My neurotic boss had interrogated a co-worker about my private life after she found we had been spending (purely platonic) time together outside of work (we had gone to Vegas with her boyfriend). When borrowing my camera, she took it upon herself to explore my other pictures, and after viewing photos of our Vegas trip, my supervisor pulled my co-worker into her office asking the why’s, what’s, where’s, and when’s of the event. When I confronted my supervisor about the invasion of privacy, Hell broke loose which led to our parting ways. In the aftermath, I found that she had reported in employment papers that she had the right to investigate into my private life because I “was open about being a lesbian” and dancing with another female co-worker “definitely affects the employer’s interests and warrants ensuring the safety of the business and [clients].”

If this revelation wasn’t shocking enough, when I attempted to file a complaint with the Equal Employment Opportunities department, I was informed all too late that I could not file there; I needed to go to Fair Employment and Housing. The EEO only handles job discrimination based on gender, nationality, ethnicity, or religion. FEHA covers job discrimination based on disabilities: physical disabilities, mental illnesses, issues relating to pregnancy, etc. Apparently being gay is a disability in the state of California which complicated matters and enforces the idea that it’s just better to avoid the whole debacle by being straight at work. Sadly I missed the Statute of Limitations and could not file a complaint against the vindictive sprite, but fear not dear friends, from what I have heard since we last met, karma for her has been quite the bitch.

Even outside of work, I am at times crammed into a closet with family. Though my dad was supportive in my coming out, he advised me not to share this information with my older, more conservative relatives who just can’t understand this lifestyle and wouldn’t accept these types of people. And in spite of my mother’s progress toward acceptance, I have been advised the same, handpicking a few select relatives that I must continue to lie to at family gatherings to spare their delicate sensibilities.

I envy the people who can burst headlong into life without a care or fear of retribution. I long for the freedom to be completely and utterly myself in every moment of my day. I tire of correcting myself when talking about love interests, interchanging “she” to “he” when revisiting a date in daily conversation. I tire of my elderly relatives asking about when I’m going to find a man and settle down. I tire of worrying about being treated differently at my job, a place where I can’t weed out the negative influences like I did my friends; I have to work with these people. In this day and age, with all the steps we’ve taken in the right direction, there are still so many obstacles to overcome to be a full time, loud and proud, out in the open lesbian.

But I am moving forward. I am mostly out of the closet; I’ve shared with everyone who is worth telling. I’m not making apologies for people I used to worry about. I am aspiring to be that woman I want to be, proud of myself in every respect and fearless of outside perspective. I kind of want to be Elsa. Yes, that Elsa, from that movie. Because let’s face it, Disney is just fantastically gay, and the Academy Awarding winning song could double as the universal coming out theme song, when you just can’t hold it back anymore, and you don’t care what they’re going to say, you can just let it go, and let the storm rage on. And if I could build an awesome, hilariously naïve snowman in the process, that would be kick ass too.

Out of Orange Juice

Originally Posted on 10/1/13

Possibly the most unnerving moment in a homosexual’s life, the coming out party, has the potential to uplift you, to raise a harrowing burden off your shoulders, to unmask the lies you’ve lived and send them fluttering away like torn pieces of paper on the wind. Or it has the power to level you, dissemble you bit by bit and leave you broken and dying in the gutter. My party took form in the latter.

At 15, I had done little to hide my sexuality as for the most part I hardly understood it myself. But my mother saw it, and had seen it for years: the moment she caught me kissing my female next door neighbor as a young child, my lack of boyfriends, the promiscuous photos of women I had printed off the internet, and the not so subtle confrontation from my high school teacher during conference night when she informed my mother the photos of women in bikinis were unsuitable decor for the inside of my binder. Driving to the store one afternoon, my mother finally asked that definitive question, and for a moment the world froze. Unsure how to respond, all the while knowing she had asked a question she already knew the answer to, my hesitation came from the fear of what this confirmation would bring. I took a breath and nodded in the affirmative, but added the qualifier that I was not gay, but bisexual, as if the 50% of Normal that lingered somewhere in my gut might’ve softened the blow and made me seem more human somehow. This did not sway my mother, and a lecture ensued, littered with religious proclamations and damnations as I was beaten down by God’s hatred for gays and my ultimate destination of a fiery afterlife.

I wanted to die. I grappled with my own self-hatred. Raised a Christian and incredibly devout through my childhood and preteens, I had turned away from the church for several reasons, but my sexuality played a larger role. My peers at school were beginning to catch on as well, and the bullying that ensued pushed me to the edge. I watched movies and read books about other homosexuals, hoping to identify with their stories. Instead I felt anger and jealousy whenever I read of a situation where someone else’s family supported them and loved them through their coming out (above). Why couldn’t I have that? Why don’t I deserve that? A failed suicide attempt left me with one dark realization: without the love and support of my mother, I wouldn’t make it through this world alive.

I always sensed that my mother clung to the hope that the 50% of Normal in me would prevail and I would end up with a nice man, get married, have a family. Even I hoped it, knowing the perilous road that I would walk if the evil lesbian in me won. But as I progressed through my adolescence, the dream of normalcy faded along with my deluded attraction to the opposite sex. A date with a male companion finally made me realize that I was fully gay and the hopes of a peaceful heterosexual life died. I would have to do what many homosexuals have never faced: coming out a second time.

When I was 21, following the date with the male friend, my epiphany, and an eager inquiry about a second date from my mom, I sat down to tell her that the Normal was gone. Shaken and traumatized from the first coming out response, I immediately began sobbing and blubbering out that I didn’t like men and never would. Noting my devastation and the utter fear in my eyes, my mother took a softer stance than before, insisting that she still loved me and she always would, I was her daughter, after all, but adding the point that no matter what, she could never support my lifestyle or what I was doing. It was against her religion and she couldn’t be made to see differently. Begging for her acceptance, I was denied. It was unconditional love with an asterisk and a footnote: “I love the You, I love my daughter. I can never love the Lesbian, I will never accept the abnormal.” Leveled again, I retreated to my room in solemn resignation. Accepting the loss, I began to tentatively live my new life alone.

Dates came slowly and were enveloped in my mother’s disapproval. Knowing I was going out, she would ask where. Once I revealed that I was going on a date, her lips pursed shut and she spun on her heels, hastily vacating the room. I often returned from my date to icy silence and tried to keep future dates under wraps, lying that I was going out with friends or going shopping. But gradually, very gradually, things began to change. A few years later, dates began with my mother asking directly if I was going out with a girl. Then they were capped in the end by the simple question: “Did you have a good time?” One quick “yes” and the conversation was over as my mother retreated to the kitchen, having done her duty by asking at all. It was understood that details were not requested or required, but my mother was trying.

But it was not a steady ascent to acceptance and harmony. Our progress was pock-marked with regressions and fallbacks. Like me explaining to my mother why she couldn’t use the word “faggot,” or my mother absent-mindedly lamenting her disgust for two women walking down the street hand in hand, forgetting I was seated in the car beside her. I think, however, that the biggest step back came in 2008, when my mother informed me she had voted yes on Prop 8. Furious and confused, a ticker tape of memories ran through my mind of all the progress we had made, all the changes we had gone through, only to stop at such a critical crossroads. My mother explained that she didn’t mind gays dating and living together, but felt it frivolous and inappropriate to grant them marriages. Arguing still that marriage was a religious institution and homosexuality had no place in marriage, she couldn’t grasp the significance of her vote or the obstacle it created in helping me feel that sense of Normal again.

Older now, a bit wiser, slightly more patient, I was angry, but understanding. My mother had been fighting her deeply rooted religious beliefs for 10 years, trying to balance her faith with her biological attachment and affection of her own child. She tried to make heads or tails of which path to take: follow the 3,000 year old theology her life had been based on, or erase the asterisk from her unconditional love and support her daughter, embracing her completely. The decision could not have been easy, and separating the two was a challenge my mother had tasked herself with for the past decade. But bringing that lifestyle into the church? Merging the two by granting marriages before the eyes of God in his very house? My mother could not handle those worlds colliding and she voted the only way a God-fearing woman of tradition could.

The following years, as I went on sporadic dates, my mother’s interest increased and the events were sandwiched with questions and comments like “where are you guys going? You look nice, have a good time!” and “What was she like? What’s her name? Will you see her again?” And the Normal began to grow. We survived my brother’s wedding, an event which at the time I looked upon with somewhat blighted eyes. I struggled through the pain of thinking I would never be afforded the same opportunity as a legal marriage, and I watched as my mother buzzed around preparing what she must have thought would be the only wedding of her children, even commenting it would be “the only bridal shower [she] would give” and “the only daughter-in-law [she] would have.” I did not take this to be a malicious comment, just more so a statement of fact as the fate of Proposition 8 sat on a desk somewhere outside the US Supreme Court, awaiting someone’s consideration.

Lately I have been flittering through internet dating sites and personal ads, struggling with my own perpetual social anxiety and my dislike for the club and bar scenes to find love. On top of that, I have the worst case of baby fever as my hormones have kicked into full gear. Though I am not even 30, my own unfulfilled expectations of where I should be in my personal life leave me melancholy. While family members and friends are getting engaged, marrying, having babies, I have yet to secure even a long term relationship in my hapless decade on the gay dating scene. Overjoyed by the announcement that my brother and sister-in-law are expecting a child, a twinge of pain struck my heart knowing that a baby for me is so far away. I always knew I wanted children. I of course dreamt of sharing the precious milestones of raising a child with a partner, but even if I never found a partner to have one with, I had made up my mind I would be a mother through my own pregnancy or adoption. But being gay makes the task that much harder in that you must pay for either artificial insemination or adoption, in addition to all the other costs that come with having a baby. Knowing I cannot afford this on my own, I am left feeling alone.

I burst into tears one night. My mom held me as I cried for my loneliness, I cried for my uncertain future in love and motherhood. And with one comment from my mother in one moment, I realized how far we had come in the last 15 years: “I will pray for you. I know someone is out there for you, and I know you will find her. I will go home and pray for you, I just want you to be happy. That’s all I ever wanted for you.”

The Dance of Love

Originally Posted on 7/17/11

We are caught in a dance my friends, one of progress and regression, diversions and delays. The Human Rights Movement has, in the past months, splintered, moving forward, backward, and every whichway, leaving us confused as to whether we should be celebrating or protesting and where we should go from here.

We achieved monumental success in New York last month when the state voted to legalize gay marriage, after years of debate and failed attempts (the senate voted on it back in 2009 as well, and fell short, despite impassioned and infallible arguments such as this). Every state we win is a milestone victory, bringing us just a tad closer to feeling equal, and what is infinitely more important, normal. The country had held its breath as we waited for the chorus of ayes in the tiny room that would decide the fate of millions of New Yorkers, and messages of congratulations arose all over the internet in united support of the new law. One step forward.

In almost immediate response to the passage of the new law, the House of Representatives ordered the Pentagon to uphold the Defense of Marriage Act, which defines marriage as between a man and a woman and prohibits the Pentagon from granting same sex benefits to gay couples. In spite of the fact that the Obama administration has previously announced that they will no longer utilize DOMA, the government is still running rampant to retain any anti-gay power they once wielded. Likewise, they are dragging their feet on fully repealing Don't Ask, Don't Tell on the grounds that more studies need to be conducted to ensure no negative long term effects will befall the armed forces. One step back, but we had a comeback on the way.

Just a few days ago Governor Jerry Brown of California signed the Gay History Law, requiring that "all contributions of Americans from all backgrounds and walks of life are included in our history books" specifically the homosexuals. Now when I first read of this news, I have to admit I was a little apprehensive, given that this was a keynote argument of the proponents of Prop 8, that if gays were granted the rights to marry, children would be taught about homosexuality in school. However, after careful thought and consideration, it becomes clear that this is not about homosexuality, this is about things people accomplished who simply happened to be gay. Children will not be taught about gay culture: glitter and rainbows, U-Hauling and scissoring, it will simply be "John made this, Sara did that and by the way, they were gay". Arguments are already flying as opponents of the bill gear up for a fight, concerned their children will be taught to accept homosexuality. Yeah, they probably will, so fight as hard as you can, because God forbid a public school system teach your children the horrors of open-mindedness, tolerance, and respect for their peers. God forbid as a direct result, school bullying and GLBT harassment and suicides might go down. A flying leap across the stage, but with a shaky landing.

As the GLBT movement/argument takes the forefront and extremists come out in opposition of equality, our children are being exposed to hate that is reminiscent of the Civil Rights Movement: discrimination of a group of individuals who are different, therefore viewed to be inferior and treated violently. A recent report published by the LA Times has found that anti-gay homicides have risen 13% since 2009, a number which is more than likely grossly underestimated given that not all homicides are automatically classified as hate crimes, as many states have no inclusion of hate crimes for gays in their law books. Even in California, where a transgender man was killed in a university bathroom and had the word "It" carved on his chest, it took a fair amount of advocacy to declare the crime as motivated by hate. And the harassment and violence that don't result in death isn't even considered in this report. Protests, hate speech, and abuse is undoubtedly on the rise as well. Even I was the subject of an attack not too long ago; though I haven't been exposed to much harassment since high school, mostly because I actively hid my sexuality from most people until about 2 years ago, it knocked on my front door (or rather, my Facebook wall) when a friend's account had been hacked and a post was left on my wall calling me a faggot and lamenting that I should die, among other things. Others were hacked as well, but whether or not this was a generalized hacker post or dedicated directly toward me, it stung a bit. Spin and fall.

The tension surrounding gays since the Prop 8 aftermath has widened divisions across the country, and as we disjointedly progress toward equality, the score will climax and hostilities will surge in a final encore before the show is over and the curtain falls. There will be jumps, skips, stumbles, and falls, but we must take the wins, however small, when they come in order to strengthen ourselves for the fights and losses we will inevitably face before we reach our goal. Amid the frustration and anger, sadness and tears, I just keep telling myself, we will get there someday, we just have to keep fighting. What other option do we have?

If You Give a Gay a Gun...

Originally Posted on 9/30/10

Signing online this morning, I was hit with not one but two blows on the GLBT front. Yesterday I read the story of a gay college student who was secretly filmed by his roommate while having a sexual encounter, then the roommate broadcast the video online. The roommate and an accomplice were charged with invasion of privacy for filming without consent and broadcasting the content. Today it was confirmed that as a result of this incident, the student, Tyler Clementi, committed suicide. As shocking and as horrifying as this story is, I was dismayed, but not thrown into despair. However, the second blow came when I signed onto Huffington Post and found that a 13 year old, Seth Walsh, had died nine days after hanging himself from a tree in what soon became a successful suicide attempt. He too killed himself due to being excessively taunted for his homosexuality. This was the moment the tears blurred my vision.

The pain of taunting and fears of being rejected is nothing new to me, and high school was one of the most difficult times of my life. I achieved a vague understanding of my sexuality when I was 14, but still believed I was attracted to men to some extent, either because I truly didn't know or because I was clinging to some semblance of normalcy. I even forced myself to hang posters of the latest teen heartthrobs on my walls because I knew it was the normal thing to do, whether I liked them or not. To this day I still don't see why JTT was so cute to everyone else.

In a house where homosexuality was not accepted, because "God hates gays" and I was "going to Hell", I thought I could be myself a little more at school. Though I wasn't a total dyke, I had pictures of attractive women on folders and maybe a few in bikinis inside, and those few classmates who were more intuitive figured it out, proceeding to make my life hell. A girl who came to the conclusion that I liked her constantly whispered and pointed me out to friends every time our paths crossed, an encounter always followed by disgusted looks and cruel laughter. A classmate once leaned across the aisle and whispered homophobic insults into my ear, forcing me to jump up from my desk and leave the classroom, running to a favorite teacher's room and I broke down crying on her desk. I even had a teacher who, having seen a bikini photo in my binder, informed my mother on Parent Teacher Conference night that I had inappropriate pictures of women in my folder that needed to be removed; a curve ball I had never seen coming, a complaint that was never brought to my attention beforehand. The evening concluded with an angry and embarrassed rant from my mother, driving me to tears, and souring our already bitter relationship even more.

My issues with my sexuality were just a few of many stemming from my childhood and current situation, but I know it was one of the issues in the front of my mind when I swallowed a bottle of sleeping pills one night at the age of 15. The despair of never feeling normal, never feeling right, and never being accepted tore through me. When so many other things set me apart from my peers, why did I have to be gay too? Luckily, I became ill and vomited most of the pills up, the rest just made me sleepy as I stumbled back into Hell the next morning for classes. But the taunting didn't stop, and it didn't stop at me.

I witnessed one of my friends, still very much in denial but obvious to everyone else, being repeatedly gay-bashed, beaten with hockey sticks in PE and called names. My heart broke when he was humiliated in front of the class as the same teacher who outed me to my mother on conference night told him to "stop dancing like a stupid little gay man" during one of his more cheerful moments. Others were smarter, more discreet. It wasn't until after high school, thanks to Facebook and MySpace, when you found out who was truly gay, because everyone else knew coming out in that environment could drive you to your death.

My senior year, I began the tentative process of coming out to friends and a few family members that I thought would be supportive. The reactions were mixed. Writing letters because I was fearful of facing the rejection head on, some were surprisingly supportive, even getting angry at my assumption that my sexuality would change anything between us. Others were hostile and refused to speak to me again. Many said they would pray for me, as though I had some horrible disease only divine intervention could resolve. Being that I was so close to leaving high school, I wasn't so concerned about losing some friends, but still hurt by the ones who left, wondering if I should have said anything at all, if I should have waited a few more years for maturity to set in (two weeks ago, I ran into the girl who had mocked me to her friends; she hugged me and chatted me up like an old friend).

But there's nothing that says coming out after high school is coming out safely. Obviously, as demonstrated by Tyler, college isn't safe either, nor is anything after that. Many I've known have lost jobs, lost friends, been asked to leave their churches, been asked to leave their personal lives out of the office, and worst of all, lost family over their sexuality. I still don't come out to people until I gauge their viewpoints on homosexuality (the Prop 8 issue makes this a lot easier). I still haven't come out to many family members for fear of rejection (though I'm aware of the risk of writing this online, I kind of want to just get it over with). And, in working at a therapeutic treatment facility with predominantly Christian people who don't hide their devotion to their faith, I live with the fear of being found out, not knowing what their reactions would be or if I would be asked to leave (this anxiety has especially increased since I accidentally sent a link of this blog to one of my co-workers, praying she didn't see it).

The anti-gay plague affecting today's youth is growing stronger. Despite myearlier blog that today's generation is more open-minded, there are still many who are tainted by their parents, tainted by their religions, who are raised to be hateful, teachings that they can't rise above, as evidenced by the four** GLBT suicides this month. Even in death, anti-gay comments have been left on Tyler's memorial pages. And our government is not helping issues. While some states have taken the positive steps to validate the existence of the GLBT community in legalizing marriage and gay adoption, many other states are fighting marriage, Congress can't agree on DADT and continue to fail with the Employment Non-Discrimination Act. What are we showing our kids? As my favorite lesbian blogger, Ms. Snarker tweeted, "when a government says it's OK to discriminate, youth thinks it's OK to hate".

These tragedies need to stop. This hate needs to stop. There's no reason for 13 yr olds to be hanging themselves, no reason for people to have to choose between living in fear or living a lie. To those hurting now, I can say from experience, it gets better. It's not perfect, but you can choose to live the life you're given and find the light through the darkness, or you can bury yourself in it. I was given a second chance and I'm grateful for it every single day. I still face rejection, I still face loss, but I still have enough love in my life to get me through. I hope you can find it too.

Much love and thanks to the family and friends who never left.

If you or someone you know is struggling with homosexuality, there is hope. Visit: It Gets Better on YouTube, or call 1-866-4-U-Trevor for a suicide hotline at The Trevor Project.

**UPDATE: The day after the publication of this blog, a fifth GLBT college student, Raymond Chase committed suicide...condolences, thoughts, prayers, love to the families of all the victims.

Private Policies with Public Benefits

Originally Posted 6/28/10

In honor of San Francisco's 40th Gay Pride celebration that took place this past weekend, we've been awarded a fabulous gift: extra-curricular college club equality and a reality check for Christian organizations throughout the US. Happy Pride!

It all started when University of California Hastings Law School refused to provide state funding for a Christian college club, the Christian Legal Society, who openly discriminated against gays by disallowing homosexuals to hold officer positions. Though they claimed homosexuals were allowed to attend their meetings, they maintained that their lifestyle is misaligned with Christian beliefs and sinful, and required members of the organization to sign a Statement of Faith, acknowledging and upholding that belief. Hastings argued that it was against university policy to recognize and support organizations that discriminated against any group of minorities and they were not legally obligated to fund the religious club. The CLS fought the decision, taking it to the Supreme Court and arguing that their First Amendment Rights had been trampled. Now, many chapters of the group have fought similar battles with colleges and won, however, the US Supreme Court was about to throw a curve ball. In a narrow 5-4 ruling revealed today, they decided that the University was not required to financially support the group or acknowledge its existence on campus.

Many have lashed out at the decision, even one Supreme Court Justice, Samuel Alito, who wrote that the finding was a "serious setback for the freedom of expression in this country". However, as the ruling ripples through the US, no doubt the details will blur and fade, and this will become a misunderstood decision of religion on campus. So let's set the record straight here. No one is arguing that Christians cannot convene on campus. No one is banning the formation of Christian organizations at college universities, and no one is telling these organizations that they cannot be anti-gay. This decision, at it's base, simply states that an anti-gay Christian organization cannot receive financing from a state-funded educational institution. As another Justice wrote, "while the Constitution protects CLS's discriminatory practices off-campus, it does not require a public university to validate or support them".

It's not only policy on a state level, but a federal level, that any organization that engages in discrimination or exclusion of members cannot receive tax-payer money for funding. However, despite this landmark court decision, it is not glitter and rainbows for equal rights advocates all over the country. Just last week a federal jury determined that a chapter of the Boy Scouts of America in Philadelphia could remain rent-free in a city owned building after the city demanded payment on the basis of their anti-gay practices. The city of Philadelphia had allowed the Boy Scouts to use this building without charge based on a 1928 city agreement that declared nonprofit organizations can use public property for free. However, they recently argued that due to the discriminatory policies of BSA, they felt it inappropriate for the group to remain in the building for nothing. They argued the organization should have to pay an annual rent or be evicted. The jury sided with the BSA, claiming the city cannot infringe upon their First Amendment Rights as a private organization to disallow any group of people they choose and the city can neither charge nor evict them for the reason given.

For you regular readers (the few and far in between), you know my policies on First Amendment Rights. While I do not agree with these ignorant, idiotic, hate-filled religious nut-jobs and their un-American principles, private organizations have the right to single out whomever they choose, to hate whomever they want, and exclude people they don't like from their special clubs (and I don't mean special as in "unique"). However, when the private sector crosses over into publicly funded buildings and institutions or when they receive public financing, they cannot operate as a private organization. In some places, the BSA pays only $1 a month (yes that's one dollar, un dolar, one hundred pennies) for public buildings to hold their meetings. And, much to the disdain of the Christian Legal Society, the BSA also holds many meetings at public elementary and high school buildings as well. Perhaps they should have aimed for the local high school instead. In addition, the BSA receives close to 30% of their funding from the US government, and holds their Boy Scout Jamborees every four years on the federal property of a Virginia military base, at the expense of tax-payers. How much do they pay to rent a military base for a week and a half? Yep, one dollar. Four whole shiny quarters. How much does it cost the government? Five million. Over the nearly 30 years they've been holding these events, that's a total of $37.5 million. And guess what kids? They have another jamboree coming up in July. Feel Uncle Sam sifting around in your wallet? That's you supporting anti-gay organizations without any say in the matter whatsoever.

While few significant lawsuits have popped up over the matters of discrimination, one involving a gay Boy Scouts Leader being banned, another because an Atheist child was not allowed to join (yeah, they don't like those people either), no one has won because the US courts refuse to acknowledge that the Boy Scouts of America are a publicly funded organization. They are registered as a private club, so whatever other funds they receive are irrelevant to court justices. However, based on recent exposes, they are steadily losing funding and support from private donors and public advocates of the group.

I could go on, god knows I would love to tear the BSA up for their ridiculous policies of traditional families, extreme interjected religious beliefs, and attempts to avoid those rampant pedo-gays (which obviously didn't work since they just lost a massive suit for child sex abuse in the organization, perpetuated by non-gay Scout Masters). I would love to check these God Fearing, Hate Mongering Bible Thumpers who are slowly losing ground in the Human Rights Movement across the nation, but I'll refrain, since this blog is purely about private organizations that need to remain such in every sense of the word. You want to exclude, you want to hate, you want to be narrow-minded bastardly cowards hiding behind "morals and values", you go right ahead. This is America. But, you pay for it, you support it, you keep it away from the rest of us. We're sure as hell not going to shell out any more money in the name of hate and have no desire to join your shady clubs.

Side Note: As a former Girl Scout and an advocate for youth activity programs, I would like to say the Girl Scouts are in no way tied to the Boy Scout organization and do not maintain any discriminatory policies against gays, atheists, or any other group. For the boys, send 'em to Indian Guides! They teach the same values of team work, respect, and self-reliance along with father-son bonding and a deep-seated respect for the Native Americans of this country. Plus, they're funded by the YMCA, so you know it's gay-safe...all together now! "Y-M-C-A! It's fun to stay at the...."