From Darkness We Will Rise

My heart is breaking. I am bewildered, angry, and depressed. The events that have taken place this past weekend were incomprehensible to say the least, and the world has been left in a stunned, solemn silence. There are no words that haven't already been flung onto the front of a newspaper or thrust into the headline of an online publication. There is nothing new to say about another mass shooting in America, which is steadily becoming the norm of our daily lives. But for some reason, this particular shooting hit home a lot harder. While the devastation of every attack and shooting has broken my heart, this was the first time I genuinely wept over one and I truly believe it's because I realize how easily this could have been me or my friends. This attack was targeted toward us, and in spite of the perceived progress we have made in America this past year, our lives remain a dangerous existence.

Facts and details about the Pulse nightclub shooting are still pouring in and updates can change any sliver of information at any moment, but currently this is what we know: The shooter, Omar Saddiqui Mateen, entered the Orlando-based nightclub with firearms at approximately 2 am Sunday morning. He opened fire, and as many clubbers hit the floor, he shot and killed at least 50 individuals and seriously injured more than 53. After a hostage situation and multiple shoot-outs with police, Mateen was shot and killed. Mateen claimed the attacks for the militant terrorist group ISIS, however it has yet to be confirmed if he had actual ties to the group and was acting under their orders or if he simply admired their belief system and went rogue. The FBI have confirmed that he was previously under investigation for possible terrorist activities. Either way, ISIS is more than happy to take credit for the attacks. His father, on the other hand, maintains that Mateen was not acting in the name of any religion but truly because he was angered when seeing two men kissing in Miami a few months ago. Mateen also has an alleged history of domestic violence, aggression, and mental illness according to his ex-wife.

Tales of horror continue to emerge from the darkness of this night: mothers share their children's final texts, waiting for any sign of life, witnesses recount the massacre and the cries for help that will fill their ears and nightmares for months to come, victims still fight for their lives. Again, traumas that are no different from the other attacks that have plagued this nation and this world, with the exception of one detail. We were very specific targets; we were targeted for being who we are.

In Paris, they were targeted simply for being a component of the western world. In Sandy Hook, they were a matter of proximity and convenience. In Columbine, they were targeted for familiarity and revenge. In Aurora, they were random movie-goers. These were not matters of a particular demographic, a certain religion, race, or gender. These poor wretches were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. In this attack, it was specific and hate-driven; the homophobic slaughter of gays who just wanted to love freely, be as they are, and dance the night away on Pride weekend. That is what is truly terrifying. That in this day and age, such vehement hatred can burn so hot that you can decimate the lives of hundreds over a simple kiss. And it has shaken the very core of me.

Like me, many are rattled by the violence, and fear is never a good recipe for resolving social, political, or national issues. The irrational cries of closing the borders have resounded, military retaliation for ISIS have been demanded, and undoubtedly we will see another predictable rise in Islamophobia as angry bigotry sweeps through the country. But the one ongoing and justifiable concern that rings through all the fear mongering is the issue of gun control.

The proponents of gun rights have been relentlessly clutching to the draconian and likely sorely misinterpreted Second Amendment in their right to bear arms (sorry, couldn't help myself). Various solutions have arisen in an attempt to limit shootings such as these, including extensive background checks and even restrictions and prohibitions from purchasing firearms. But all fall short of being remotely effective. Background checks will only be successful if the individual in question has received mental health services and has been involuntarily hospitalized, reported as a threat to others, or is under court-orders or a conservatorship. And just a note, even if an individual has been hospitalized with a grave mental illness, or detained for threatening to harm another individual, they are only prohibited from obtaining a firearm for 5 years. Then the jig is up. But none of this matters when many private gun dealers are not required to complete a background check. Only public firearm dealers and shops are required by law to run a full background check on their customers. If you contact a gun owner directly through Craig's List, the PennySaver, whatever, you can purchase a gun by simply ensuring your payment goes through, no questions asked. It has been confirmed that Mateen legally purchased his firearms, in spite of being under FBI investigation years ago for possible terrorist activity, because those investigations were closed and he passed his prohibition period.

The problem with gun control is that there is no singular sure-fire solution, but a complete ban will significantly reduce the threats that face this country. Arguments of "well they'll still sell them on the black market!" and "look how well the drug war is going, crack is illegal but it's everywhere! Guns will be the same way!" are general responses to the push for eliminating the second amendment. So if we can't stop illegal activities, we should just make them legal to relieve ourselves the headache of failure. Others claim that they have the right to keep their weapons because they use the guns to protect their families from burglars and can use a concealed weapon to stop mass shootings. Sadly, there are far more family members getting killed from accidental discharges than burglars, and zero mass shootings being avoided thanks to some upstanding NRA member. In fact, many shootings occur because people steal guns from "responsible gun owners" who don't lock their firearms up. Some cry out "from my cold dead fingers!" but I press these individuals, if you want your guns so badly, why haven't you solved the problem? Where are your recommendations and why haven't you implemented them? If gun proponents can present a viable solution to significantly reduce if not eliminate altogether mass shootings and still keep guns legal, then I'm all for it. But I haven't heard a damn thing from them yet.

As if the massacre of Pulse was not horrific enough, terror lurked in the shadows much closer to home after a man was arrested on his way to LA Pride "heavily armed." James Howell of Indiana was detained outside a resident's home early in Santa Monica when he was knocking on their windows and door. In his car, the police found three assault rifles and a significant amount of ammunition and high-capacity magazines. He also had a bucket filled with substances that was potentially a crude homemade explosive device. He denies any intent to harm any individuals at the parade, but clearly his possessions suggest otherwise. You're not hunting bear with an assault rifle and a bucket bomb on the streets of West Hollywood. It was sheer luck that the police crossed paths with this man before he made his way out to the parade. In a crowd of 400,000 with bombs and bullets, the death toll would have quickly exceeded Orlando's as the west coast would have been enveloped in its own nightmare.

But we shine on. In spite of the terror we felt and feel, and the devastation that crippled us, in spite of the months and years it will take to recover and heal, we will continue to survive and thrive. The attack on Pulse nightclub only pushed more gays and allies to the streets of LA and Washington DC to demonstrate their unity. Fearless, people marched in the parade, some donning black armbands to honor their fallen brothers and sisters. Many have rallied around the nation and the world voicing their support, even some countries and world leaders that typically do not support homosexuality. Following reports of blood shortages, lines of straight allies curled around parking lots and street corners to donate, especially since our gay brothers are banned from doing so, citing superfluous concerns about tainted blood supply. For so many years we have endured. We have fought, we have battled our way out of the dark closet and into the glaring sunlight of freedom and equality, and we refuse to return to the depths whence we came. We are stronger, we are united, we are fearless. Whatever few will harm us, many more will protect us. When hatred rears its ugly head, love will always answer the call.

Oversung Heroine

When Caitlyn Jenner first came out as a transgendered woman, there were many predictable responses from the less educated right and even some from the middle who are still finding their feet when it comes to understanding gender identity issues. For her bravery in facing a very private decision in a very public manner, she was dubbed a hero and was awarded the Glamour Magazine's Woman of the Year award, among other notable acknowledgements. Following this, there was a tidal wave of backlash that swept across the internet, some of which trickled onto my Facebook feed as many argued that "a man dressed as a woman is no hero." They posted photos of courageous soldiers carrying their wounded brethren across the battlefields to safety, lamenting "this is a real hero!" One man even returned his wife's posthumous Woman of the Year award to Glamour Magazine after being sickened by the publication's choice to honor a trans woman. He stated it was insulting to his wife's memory, who perished during rescue efforts in the 9/11 attacks, and to many other past recipients. The definition of a hero has become more and more subjective as time goes on, but does Caitlyn deserve to wear the crown?

As society has progressed, step by step people have overcome their ignorance and their fear of the unknown and the misunderstood. We have taken great leaps in the human rights movement as people have gradually come to comprehend the "homosexual condition." Previously society believed we had a defective brain, that something didn't connect properly or develop properly, that something was wrong with us. Now they know that the the homosexual heart loves exactly the same way as the straight ones do, that homosexual love is as deep and profound and devoted as heterosexual love can be. But the next obstacle appears to be a bit much as many who are strong supporters of lesbians and gays still believe transgendered people to be defective with poor brain connections or limited neurological development, or possibly mentally ill. You're a hero if you find the courage to come out of the closet, but you're sick if you find the courage to adopt your true gender identity.

Caitlyn Jenner faced no easy task when she decided to come out as a female. She was mocked, attacked, and harassed. Petitions were signed to have her gold medals from the Olympic games revoked. She became the butt of every comedian's joke in late night talk shows, and she has added one more rock to the pile of "things gone wrong in America" arguments. But in spite of her own courage and bravery for her personal journey, I will say that as a public figurehead, Caitlyn Jenner is no hero.

After coming out as transgendered, the LBGT population rallied around her and adopted her as their mascot. Following her spread in Vanity Fair magazine, Caitlyn set hearts pounding and tongues wagging as people cheered her on in her very public transition. She landed a reality show chronicling her new life which often features her previous reality TV brood, the Kardashians and Jenners, and as previously mentioned, she began collecting awards and making speeches and public appearances all over the US. But the party was over when Caitlyn made an appearance on the show of America's favorite lesbian hero, Ellen Degeneres.

Identifying herself as a "traditionalist," Caitlyn admitted that she disagreed with gay marriage years ago and felt marriage should be between a man and a woman. She allowed that now she "doesn't want to get in the way of anyone's happiness," but sounded so reluctant in this, it was painfully obvious she negotiated her stance to avoid offending the gay, married talk show host sitting a few feet from her face. Tackling the terminology of matrimonial equality, she rescinded, "if that word marriage is really so important to you, I can go with it." Like I mean, if I have to, I guess I can deal with it. Strangely, the transgendered star adopted many arguments that conservatives like her have used against the LGBT community in order to support her own stance against her own community. She wept and demanded her own rights as a trans woman but couldn't comprehend why our rights as homosexuals were critical too. But she didn't stop there.

Months later, Caitlyn raised eyebrows again when she announced that she would be supporting GOP candidates in the presidential elections, in spite of the fact that they are all staunch opponents of LGBT rights and the human rights movement as a whole, and many are not that great for the gender equality movement either. Today, Caitlyn has announced that she wants to be an ambassador to Ted Cruz, a very conservative candidate who has publicly stated he would work to end federal equal marriage laws and would stop anti-discrimination laws protecting trans people. She argued that even though he does not have a great position on trans issues, he's "very nice" and if he becomes president, she would like to work with him to help him understand the trans community and the obstacles they face. Instead of gliding on some hopeless prayer that we can change his lifelong and deeply rooted Evangelical beliefs against LGBTs, wouldn't it just be better to keep him from getting elected altogether? Though she hasn't quite given him her full endorsement yet, the only other front-running Republican candidate left is Trump, so with her promise to endorse the GOP, either way we're screwed.

Caitlyn is famous because she is trans. Caitlyn is rich because she is trans. Caitlyn is being worshipped because she is trans. But Caitlyn is anti-gay marriage and has repeatedly announced her support for political candidates that have openly argued against Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, and Transgender rights. This shining, glittering, rainbow-filled community has embraced you and lifted you up onto this pedestal in hopes that you could be their voice, and you repay them by arguing against their rights and backing the people who could soon have the power to take those rights away. Taking the publicity, the fame, the awards, and the money that the world has handed you in being publicly trans, then refusing to help the LGBT communities where and when it means the most does not make you a hero. It makes you a money-grubbing publicity whore.

Let's get one thing straight: in this world that is inundated with negativity and fueled by criticism, it takes so much courage and insurmountable bravery to face the backlash you get for being yourself, which pours down on you in cascades of hatred day by day. To wake up every morning and challenge the archaic societal norms knowing you will be harassed, attacked, and mocked is no easy feat. Many don't survive. Leelah Alcorn committed suicide when her parents refused to accept her as a female and isolated her from her peers by taking her out of school when she refused to live her lie as a boy. Even after her death, her parents refused to acknowledge her as a female and buried her under her male birth name. Lucia McCalip just took her own life a few days ago with pong seeds after being bullied and attacked by her peers. Her mother referred to her by her male birth name and only shared photos of her as a male with the press, also indicating possible acceptance issues at home. This life is not for the weak of heart, and transgendered people are heroes, but let's shine the light on the true heroes and heroines and forget these shady oversung heroes. Me personally, I'm all about Team Jazz.

Secrets Unfold

Today is my grandmother's birthday. It has been less than three months since she passed away, and though at times I feel like life is back to normal, there are those moments when a picture pops up or one of the songs I used on her memorial video seeps out of the car radio, and that familiar ache returns to my chest, accompanied by that lump in my throat. My grandmother was the special-standard grandmother, special in that she was mine, standard in that she did what every wonderful loving grandparent does. She reveled in spoiling us 8 grandchildren during birthdays, Christmases, and on occasion during a sleepover at her house. She continued to spoil her 15 great-grandchildren and begged for more, namely from me, who has yet to contribute to the family legacy. But it had been years since she asked about my love life, since she nagged about my needing to find a husband and pop out a few more rugrats. And though I wondered, I was never sure why.

My grandmother was raised in the 1930s as a conservative Christian woman. Along with those 1940s and 50s traditions of refusing to leave the house without perfect make-up and hair, with mastering perfect etiquette, with being the perfect wife and mother above all else came the mentality of the traditional family. A man, a woman, marriage, and biological children. There was never to be any variance from this equation and any divergence would not be tolerated. Needless to say it didn't sit well with her when her youngest son came out of the closet as gay and it took her years to adjust to the idea, decades before she became fully supportive of it.

In spite of her gradual transition to the unconditional support and love of my uncle, my mother was concerned about how she would handle my own coming out, and strongly advised against it. "It would just break your grandmother's heart if she knew." So I continued on through the years, biting my tongue, endearing the multiple affrontals of inquiries about my lacking love life, the many are you dating anyones, the why haven't you found anyone yets and the but you're such a nice looking young ladys, before we graduated to the I want more great-grandchildren damn it, adopt one if you have tos. There were attempted set ups, such as that nice young man from Honda they met while car shopping, who was apparently perfect for me because "he's Mexican too!" before offering to give him my number (my grandmother was white, I am half Mexican). Sometimes these conversations were agony, sometimes I just wanted to tell her the truth, so she could understand, so she could stop trying to set me up with car salesmen. But I couldn't risk breaking her heart. So I stayed silent.

As I grew older and became more comfortable in my skin, I was less cautious with my secret. It is a full time job to be in the closet and it is utterly exhausting, but as most of my family came to realize this truth, I had to work to keep my grandmother in the dark. I eventually friended her on Facebook as she learned to navigate social media, but I would block her from seeing my gay-related posts to protect her fragile heart. After awhile, knowingly or unknowingly, some of these posts may have slipped through the filters, though I don't recall if I intended to block them or if I was just tired of it. I don't remember if this coincided with the time the questions gradually stopped. I just noticed one day that my grandmother no longer asked about boyfriends and marriage. It brought both relief and confusion, but it slipped to the back of my mind and I rarely gave it much thought anymore. I simply enjoyed the time I had with my grandmother.

The family parties continued, the board games, the Facebook posts, it was just grandmother and granddaughter spending time together without much thought about whatever lay beneath our surfaces. It didn't seem as important to share this secret with her and I didn't concern myself with it, figuring I would worry about it when I met someone I would want to bring home to the family, which I had yet to do. But I still had those moments where I grew weary of carrying this rock on my shoulders.

Before any soul mate came into my life, before any lavish coming out ceremony, my grandmother grew very ill and passed away on November 20th, 2015. I was there in her final moments and the flashbacks of such have kept me from any quick recovery of the loss. Being my last living biological grandparent, my heart was ripped from my chest. I didn't give that secret I kept from her much thought in the few days after her death, but one night my mom was sitting on my couch as we cried and chatted away about our fondest memories of her. I'm not even sure how the conversation came about, but in one fell swoop my mother stopped my heart.

"She knew, you know."
"What?"
"Nanie knew you were gay."
"What, really?"
"Yeah we were talking about it one night. She just said 'I don't care, I just want Jae to find someone and be happy. That's all I ever wanted for her.'"

I fell apart. I cried. I sobbed. My mother swears she had told me about this conversation in the past, and I agonized over the lost opportunity to have this heart-to-heart conversation with my grandmother myself. There was nothing I wanted more than to simply remove this mask and be myself with each and every family member in my life, but no one more so than her. But I find some solace in knowing that as I was holding my own carefully guarded secret, she was holding her secret of unconditional love and acceptance, and with it, the truth that, tradition aside, nothing comes before the love of your family.

Happy Birthday Nanie.

Hey Homophobes: We're Not Listening...Nah-nah-nah-nah-nah

The passage of equal marriage rights by the Supreme Court of the United States last month was a landmark moment for the human rights movement in America. In one fell swoop, years of same sex discrimination imploded and rainbows flew across the nation. Our troubles did in fact melt like lemon drops, and I was met with a grounding peace I had never known.

That’s not to say, of course, that the adversity we had been faced with for centuries dissipated into bitter sweet candies. The homophobes, the God-fearing, Bible-thumping, holy rollers, even the borderline opposition (you know, those people who have gay friends they love and respect but would never grant them the same rights) have risen and screamed out in agony after losing this war. The waters surged and the levees shuddered in the storm they tried to concoct. Many have refused to honor the law, others have whined and tantrummed and cried on social media, posting under the hashtag #godwins and fighting on Instagram about their discriminatory beliefs and dated moral codes. I have no doubt the Westboro Church and other Evangelicals are keeping their eyes peeled for the first sign of God’s vengeance: natural disasters, a terrible tragedy somewhere, a surprise renewal contract for American Idol, possibly a glass of spilled milk, who knows? God may not like cookies. People are even going to ridiculous extremes in calling attention to the passing law. One county in Missouri has decided that they will fly their flags at half-mast once a month every month for the next year, mourning the death of traditional marriage. One store owner has even posted a sign outside of his shop lamenting “No Gays Allowed.”

But what I found is that with the support of SCOTUS, I’m taking it all in stride.  Where frustration and anger and exasperation once boiled, now laughter, smirks, and little chortles blossom. In debates on Instagram with anti-gay posters, I laughed, I joked with them, I professed my love for them in an attempt to stave them off, then carefully and light-heartedly slammed a few ridiculous arguments they threw out. When I read of the half-mast flags, I snorted at the pathetic attempt to whine and pout nationally. When I saw the photo of sign at a highly exclusive, hetero-only hardware store, I revered his First Amendment Rights to be an asshole. And here’s why:

When California first voted on gay marriage in 2000 with the long since forgotten Prop 22, I remember the anger and the frustration I felt as a 16 year old who couldn’t vote (who couldn’t comprehend why we were voting on my personal life in the first place) and whose fate was in the hands of millions of adults who had never met me. I remember reading the arguments, listening to the debates about gay marriage and beating my fists on the table because I had no voice and couldn’t convince these people who were against me to let me live my life. When Prop 8 revisited the ballots, I found my voice, and I would argue on every forum I could find, desperately trying to sway the majority, screaming for my own pitiful right to just love and marry whomever I wanted. And I would rage. The anger that boiled in me overflowed in the face of adversity, of the opposition who had raised more campaign money, who spent more dollars convincing people that equal rights were not only a sin but the end of civilization as we knew it. I felt as though I was trying to beat back a tidal wave, and I was failing miserably. Nothing I said made much of a difference. We lost. We lost by a much smaller margin than that of the 2000 vote, but we lost nonetheless. The gay-bashing, the public demonstrations, the TV advertisements, all the homophobia thrown in my face that people had spent countless hours and money on had stripped me of any hope of being normal.

When SCOTUS released their decision on June 26^th, 2015, all of that genuine adversity disappeared. You know, the adversity that could actually do any harm. In one moment, the opposition had lost, and there was nothing more to be said. The law is done, the Supreme Court declared it so and there can be no challenges, no appeals, no more votes, no more ballots, no more campaigns, no millions of people with their hands in my life, directing me this way and that. This is true freedom.

In the discussions on the boards, many people retorted with “I have a right to my opinions!” Which is entirely true; however in the past, these opinions impacted your choices on the ballots and the votes, which stopped them from being simple opinions and became tallies to take my rights away. Now they have been reduced to nothing more than ignorant, hate-fueled, ridiculous points of view that mean nothing to me. I don’t have to waste my time and energy convincing you of anything. My life is mine now. You can go to your corner of the world and be stupid, I can go to mine and be whatever I want, married to whomever I choose, and I don’t have to give you a second thought. I can laugh at your pathetic attempts to bitch and moan and fly flags at half-mast, because your little dramatic displays will not change the fact that you lost; though I won’t hesitate to remind you of the countless homosexuals who have gone to war and defended that flag and the country that wouldn’t give them equal rights so you could have your childish fit in the land of the free.

And yes, I even defend the store owner and the numerous bakeries who refuse to serve homosexuals and their partners. This is America my friends, and the first amendment guarantees your rights to believe what you want and act how you choose with your own property. I believe these store owners have the right to refuse service to whomever they want, just as I would reserve and exercise the right to refuse service to any racist, homophobic, Islamophobic, Anti-Semite, sexist, bigoted asshole who walked into my store.  If you take away their rights to choose who they serve, they can take away our rights to choose as well, and I don’t want to give assholes cake. It’s my cake. Mine. However, as an American, I have the right not to spend my money in your store. This is a capitalistic country; you need my money to keep your shop in business. If you want to throw away your life savings, your blood, sweat, and tears that you poured into this business over some moral beliefs, so be it! I will go elsewhere, I will advise my friends to go elsewhere, and you can sit in your empty store and count your blessings and your overdue bills. That’s freedom baby.

Now don’t get me wrong, there is still some real shit going on out there, there will still be gay-bashing, there will still be fights for other rights like gay adoption (we won the workplace discrimination bit), but choose your battles. Don’t sweat the small stuff, the ridiculous stuff, the infantile stuff. We won. Let the idiots scream it out until they grow tired and slip away like a toddler ready for a nap. Their opinions, their viewpoints, their beliefs do not define us or determine our lives any longer. 

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.