The Reluctant Activist: Marriage Equality Has Become the Scapegoat for Divorce

This week, TNG contributor Ed exposes divorce, not marriage quality, as the greatest threat to so-called "traditional" marriage.

Arguments against traditional marriage won't defuse or eliminate the perceived threat homosexuality poses to the institution. We have to expose and talk about the real threat to marriage, which is divorce.

A while back, one of my mentors taught me that when you tell someone "no," you need to be prepared to present alternatives. She said, "When the only thing you have to offer is "no" you render yourself useless. You have no power, but if you can say no, explain your position, offer a better alternative, and back it up, then you are bringing something to the table with which you can bargain."

I would later learn that when facing an adversary in the "market place of public opinion," it's not the best plan that always wins, it is frequently the one that is easiest to explain. The perfect example is marriage equality. The position being espoused by the supporters of "traditional marriage," is contrived at best but is probably best explained as a craven, immoral exercise demonstrating a willingness to use religion to achieve political objectives. But, it's easy to explain. Saying you support marriage is like saying you like babies or puppies or kitties. What cold-hearted bastard is going to launch a campaign against babies and puppies? And even if that person has a good reason, like he or she is deathly allergic to smiling, cooing babies and goes into anaphylactic shock around them, they dare not say it. If they did, the stone-throwing, pitchfork-wielding, torch-waving, toothless villagers would be knocking at their castle door within the hour.

When supporters of marriage equality hurl around statistics like marriage fails more than 50 percent of the time, it's like sending the angry masses and a hand written invitation to storm our castle gate. Heterosexuals don't enjoy getting divorced. Well, most of the time. My mom was thrilled as all hell when she divorced my dad, as was I, but for all the TNG readers out there who are products of divorce, think about what a horrible experience it was. Although the occurrences of divorces has increased, I am sure it still has the same devastating impact on children and even one or both of the parents.

So, I have been thinking (this is the part where everyone collectively says, "Uh Oh!). If we are going to say no to the prevailing sentiment that "traditional marriage" ought to be reserved to a man and a woman, I think we should wage a campaign against the one thing that poses the greatest, real and immediate threat to traditional marriage in the U.S.: Divorce.

PROTECTING "TRADITIONAL" MARRIAGE?
Some supporters of traditional marriage are going to be belligerent and resist efforts to work with them forcing us to call bullshit on them. Traditional marriage has a whole host of problems that have nothing to do with marriage equality. Show us how marriage equality is a threat to heterosexual marriages. Where is the proof? Show us one single so-called traditional marriage that ended because a person said, "Hey honey, I know we are happy and all that, but I want out of our traditional marriage because guys are marrying guys and women are marrying women. I'm leaving. I'll catch you and the kids on the flip side." Show us the court papers where marriage equality is listed as the cause for one single divorce. If they can't, then they should join the campaign to protect traditional marriage by decreasing divorces.

In order to defeat your enemy, you must know how they think (I'm being generous). The arguments offered by the other side in favor of traditional marriage include: marriage saves women from promiscuity and being treated like sex objects; marriage harnesses men's natural aggression and need for sex; it will prevent the slippery slope that will result in adults marrying children and animals and legalize polygamy; it's better for children; and, the grand dame, marriage equality will lead to the downfall of Western Civilization. One thing that continues to confuse me is that the right wingers claim to be Christians and defenders of freedom and Western Civilization, but they are constantly whining that Christianity and life as they know it is under attack. I feel sorry for them. It is sad that their faith is so flimsy that the mere suggestion of changes in social policy has them terrified their relationships with God won't survive. Christians used to be thrown to the lions if they did not renounce their faith, but I get the feeling some of these modern day right wingers would tell Jesus to go suck an egg if you threatened to put them in the same room with Paris Hilton's chihuahua.

If supporters of traditional marriage want to protect it, they should go after divorce, and I have a few policy suggestions that will decrease the divorce rate:

1. Eliminate no fault divorce. If people are going to get a divorce they better have a damn good reason.
2. Eliminate infidelity as a reason for divorce. Instead of divorce, married couples will have to duke it out in civil court. One spouse can sue the other and receive financial compensation for any substantiated extramarital sexual activity that has not been agreed to in writing by the couple.
3. Couples will be required to sign a marriage contract. Each one has a minimum expiration date of at least 40 years. If individuals choose and complete a contract that is 50 years or longer, they will receive an increase in their Social Security checks after retirement. State governments will view early withdrawal as a breach of contract, punishable by a minimum fine of $50,000 per partner, and they will have to serve out the rest of the contract in prison.
4. Any divorces will result in the partners publicly swearing their eternal souls to the service of Satan, aka "The Prince of Darkness," because a divorce is a violation of a sacred, oral agreement with our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, through whom salvation is made possible.
   

Seriously though, the following is a list of policies that I think supporters of traditional marriage would readily adopt. If the existence of Western Civilization hangs in the balance, then they need to step up their game. Trying to kill marriage equality isn't going to cut it, but fear not my unprincipled brethren. I have real ideas to help you accomplish your goals, and pay close attention. At the end of the day, none of the silliness you have put forward in opposition to marriage equality will actually protect marriage from divorce, but most of these will:

• Eliminate no-fault divorces.
• Make marriage counseling tax deductible.
• Divorces will only be granted once couples have completed 52 (one a week) sessions of counseling.
• Automatic paternity tests if a child is involved.
• Marriage counseling prior to marriage must be completed before a marriage license will be issued.
• Both individuals must complete a polygraph test in which they answer questions regarding moral and spiritual beliefs, having children, opinions about infidelity, money management, credit scores, domestic violence, anger management, and any number of potentially revealing questions that could one day lead to divorce.
• Both must submit to criminal background checks.
• Couples must undergo a full physical workup that includes fertility tests, drug tests, tests to identify precursors for heart, liver, and kidney diseases and diabetes.
• Couples must undergo an IQ test to determine if they are intellectually compatible.
• Couples must complete a financial disclosure form revealing all personal assets and debt.
• Couples must fill out a form attesting to whether or not they are a Baby Momma/Daddy or have a/any Baby/ies Momma/s or Daddy/ies.
• Every individual is only allowed one divorce in their lifetime in accordance with scripture.
• Divorces will be limited to cases involving domestic violence or in which one or both spouses are involved in activities that present an immediate and consistent danger to the safety of other family members.
• The "Gingrich Rule"--No one will be allowed to divorce a sick and/or dying spouse.
• On second thought, maybe the ideas on the first list aren't all that absurd.
  

If everyone of these commonsense protections were to be enacted in every state that opposes marriage quality, then I would be willing to fore go my right to marry my partner. I will throw my entire support behind their efforts to lower divorce rates by both properly screening couples for compatibility, honesty, drug use and past criminal activity prior to entering the marriage and making it more difficult for couples to get out after they say "I do." Now let's get out there and get this stuff on state ballots. We know these ideas will pass in at least 40 states, because bans on marriage equality and constitutional amendments defining marriage as a union between a man and a woman have already passed in at least 40 states. The message has been sent, and it was loud and clear.

So, if the advocates of "traditional" marriage are serious about protecting the institution, then protect it from divorce. Otherwise leave us alone, and shut the fuck up.

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Degrassi: The Next Generation of Gay Teens on TV

TNG reader and frequent commenter Adam Isn't Here submits this post.

Man, there are lots of fags on the TV these days. It’s almost as if you’re not allowed to make a show that doesn’t have a homo in it. Even the pretty-macho Soprano’s, in its final weeks, outed one of their own. And mostly sympathetically too; even if he did get raped to death by a pool cue in the end.

Television has taught us that mobsters can be gay; as can bookstore owners, tenants in drama-prone Los Angeles apartment complexes, fussy pathetic New York lawyers, morose funeral home operators, witch friends of vampire slayers, kick ass Baltimore cops, conflicted drug dealers, cute hilarious drug dealers, creepy Mormon cult leaders, naked survivors, and whatever it is those boring married-gays do on that boring Brothers and Sisters show. That’s right, gays can be boring and earnest too.

But you know what kind of gay you don’t see much of on the ol’ tube? I mean, apart from women, people of color, or anyone who isn’t physically attractive of course. Teens! Which is weird, because television LOVES teenagers. Oh sure, I remember Ricky, (how could I forget Ricky?) but he, like everything else having to do with My So Called Life, was an anomaly. Not any more though.

Just off the top of my head I can think of four gay characters, who are sixteen or younger and featured prominently on their respective shows. I’m not trying to tease you by holding out names this long, the programs I’m referring to are Degrassi, United States of Tara, Skins and Gossip Girl.

Let’s start with Degrassi. Now I should tell you, I’m between the ages of 20 and 35, and I’m Canadian. That means I’ve seen every episode of the original Degrassi several times over. Growing up, Degrassi was inescapable. Inescapably awesome! Of course Degrassi has already dealt with the love that dare not speak its name more than once. This one time everyone was sure Ms. Avery was a lezzer, and that she may or may not have been hitting on Caitlin. It caused quite a stir. Another time Snake’s brother came home from college and told everyone that his relationship with his special roommate was very special indeed. The shame! But no actual student of Degrassi ever came out that I can remember. It took until “The Next Generation” for that to happen, and once it did it snowballed almost out of control. This new Degrassi is crawling with queers; some avowed, some closeted, and others just experimental. Oh to be young again.

The only problem I have with Degrassi’s current gay story line is that it involves another jock. This time it’s a football player who makes a move on the floppy-haired twinky one, only to be gently rebuffed in the “woah dude I think you misunderstood” style of rebuffment. So he gets a girlfriend and starts taking steroids because he thinks it’ll make him straight, all the while sneaking off for long runs in the park where he has rendezvous with an old buddy from soccer camp. It’s all adorably misguided. Frankly I’m just surprised it took Degrassi this long to tackle the very real issue of gay public-park sex.

That’s very titillating and all, but Degrassi already had a gay jock. He was a hockey player and he and his boyfriend were tragically torn in twain so jocko-homo could pursue his professional hockey career in Switzerland or Sweden or someplace. I know, I know, there are gay jocks out there, and I’m sure they feel very underrepresented, poor things. I think it’s great to make the point that gay kids don’t need to be put off athletics or other “manly” endeavours because they’re gay. But they already made that point. Being attractive and athletic, this kid’s already got a leg up, and what with all the same sex action going on at his high school, I’m sure it wouldn’t take him long to come to terms and get in on the fun. Being a homo isn’t exactly a heavy cross to bear at Degrassi.

The encouraging thing about young queers on TV is that it shows kids that it’s all right to be different. Jocks have got enough high school cache as it is, even if they do suck a dick now and then. So how about a deeply affected weirdo who smokes cloves and hangs out in the graveyard? Or a drama fag who really wants to audition for Maria but ends up as the Captain? Or the overweight, insecure video game player? How bout some screen time for them on Degrassi?

To the writers’ credit, the hockey player’s boyfriend was a total flamer. Like, super faggy. And they do have a very limp wristed drama fag, but he’s not gay. He actually got some chick knocked up, and then stole oxycodone from the pharmacy where he worked to pay for diapers. There is no action without consequence in this universe. It is a vicious and wrathful pantheon of gods that watches over the students of Degrassi. Maybe I should cut them a break.

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Hidden History: Goodbye, Gay Bookstore

TNG contributor Philip submitted this post. Hidden History appears biweekly, exploring the nooks and crannies of the gay and lesbian past.

With a friend, I made my final pilgrimage to Oscar Wilde Memorial Bookshop on a cold and sunny day in February. I had heard it was scheduled to close at the end of March, a victim of declining sales. As we walked down Christopher Street in the West Village, I spied a rainbow flag hanging loosely. Closer to the building, I could see the familiar, purplish sign screwed into the bricks. “Est. 1967”: years before I was even born.

I don’t have a long history with Oscar Wilde—I only first went in 2005, when I was up in New York City for a GLBT literary awards presentation—but I have tried to go each time I’m in the Village. I’ve found little gems there, including issues of a 1970s gay poetry magazine, Mouth of the Dragon, and a copy of Essex Hemphill’s Conditions chapbook, but my desire to go is only partly spurred by book hunting.

More specifically, it is a sense of place and community that has caused me to return so often to Oscar Wilde. It is the same sense of place and community that founder Craig Rodwell (1940-1993) was trying to engender when the store opened in 1967.

Rodwell had been one of Harvey Milk’s early, pre-fame boyfriends—historian Martin Duberman suggests that Rodwell’s founding of Oscar Wilde served as inspiration for Milk’s opening the San Francisco camera shop from which he ran his successful political campaigns. He then survived a suicide attempt before involving himself with gay activism in New York City through work with the New York Mattachine Society.

Wanting to find new office space for Mattachine, Rodwell hit on the idea of combining an office with a bookstore. This would create more accessible space for gay community members who might want to join Mattachine. Unable to draw others into his plan, he would work the summers of 1966 and 1967 on Fire Island, squirreling away what funds he could to assist in opening a bookstore on his own. One thousand dollars later, he rented a storefront on Mercer Street, purchased the few gay and lesbian titles then available that fit his ideal for the store, and opened up for business over Thanksgiving weekend in 1967.

With a stock of roughly 25 titles, Oscar Wilde was miniscule compared to later stores such as Washington D.C.’s Lambda Rising, Philadelphia’s Giovanni’s Room, or the multi-city A Different Light. While there were more than 25 gay and lesbian books available, many didn’t support Rodwell’s plan. He wanted the store to reflect a more consciously literary vision of gay life, and thus turned down stocking the era’s gay and lesbian pulp novels. Additionally, anything pornographic or anything that hinted of intergenerational sex was out. This led to confrontation with those who thought his anti-pornography stand was indicative of a sex-negative attitude, but Rodwell would continue his highly personal vision of what Oscar Wilde Bookshop should be for the rest of his time owning the store.

Almost immediately upon opening, Rodwell was forced to deal with death threats, anti-gay graffiti and smashed store windows, homophobic phone calls, and an angry landlord who had been told he was renting space to a bookstore without the nature of that bookstore being revealed. Although the landlord was eventually appeased by the clean-cut nature of most of the store’s customers, these issues were indicative of the overall environment, even in a neighborhood with the bohemian reputation of the West Village. This was still three years before Stonewall and the first New York City gay pride march and six years before Oscar Wilde would relocate to the burgeoning gay mecca of Christopher Street. Operating the store was potentially dangerous for Rodwell, and similar to young gays and lesbians now who might be nervous about being seen in a gay bar or club, some potential customers were scared to enter. The costs of being known as gay or lesbian, even in an urban environment, could be very high.

The store was met enthusiastically, though, by some in the developing gay press. Jack Nichols and Lige Clarke, lovers who had relocated from Washington D.C. to New York City and traded picketing in front of the White House for writing a gay-positive column, “The Homosexual Citizen,” in Al Goldstein’s hetero-oriented Screw magazine, praised Rodwell’s daring. A whole column in 1969, “Stalls of Balls,” promoted the store, as Nichols and Clarke noted, “It takes guts to open a business and base one’s cash and credit on books to be sold for public enlightenment about our ‘shadowy,’ ‘furtive,’ and ‘much-feared’ group.”

From these beginnings, Oscar Wilde Memorial Bookshop became a fixture of life in the heart of gay Greenwich Village, serving, in journalism historian Rodger Streitmatter’s words, as “an unofficial community center.” It survived for 41 years and through four changes of ownership, the longest continuous run by any gay bookstore in the United States, before sharply declining sales forced its current owner, Kim Brinster, to announce the store’s imminent demise. Some might attribute this decline to the current state of the economy, but Oscar Wilde had undergone a previous closure scare in 2003, before Deacon Maccubbin, owner of D.C.’s Lambda Rising, stepped in to save it temporarily.

Instead, this has been a slow development. Although some would look at it positively, as evidence that, with increasing mainstream acceptance, GLBT people no longer need a bookstore to function as the heart of their community, I believe such a view to be dangerously short-sighted. The death of the gay bookstore—Los Angeles’s outpost of A Different Light is also closing this spring—herald two very dark trends. First, many readers buy from generic Internet retailers like Amazon, choking independent bookstores. Second, while mainstream culture may now acknowledge a gay presence, and most mainstream bookstores may now have a gay section, mainstream culture does not know or care about the health or history of the gay community.

The co-opting of the gay community by market forces could (and should) be an entire separate column, but suffice to say that as there are fewer outlets for a range of GLBT books, fewer diverse and vital voices are going to be heard. Large publishers are unwilling to risk presenting any but the safest gay and lesbian topics (and few enough of those), and independent gay presses, many of which have attempted to nurture outsider voices, will find it harder and harder to operate without gay-specific sales venues. Reader by reader lost, Internet sale by Internet sale made, we destroy our culture.

None of this was specifically on my mind that day in February as my friend and I browsed Oscar Wilde Memorial Bookshop for what I knew would be the final time. The tiny store was packed with buyers drawn by news that it would soon close; I could not help but think that if only these readers had patronized Oscar Wilde while it was a going concern, there would have been no need for closure.

I picked up a copy of Tennessee Williams’ Collected Poems, and we made our way to the counter. We bantered a bit with two pleasant clerks, and when I turned down a paper “Oscar Wilde Bookshop” bag for my purchase, my friend joked, “You should take one; they’ll be collector’s items now.”

Steeling ourselves for the cold, we exited the store, and it was gone.

Thanks to Chris Bram for taking the photo; I'm glad my final visit was with you. Some research for this column comes from Stonewall by Martin Duberman and Unspeakable: The Rise of the Gay and Lesbian Press in Americaby Rodger Streitmatter.

Have a suggestion for a Hidden History topic? Love, hate, agree, or disagree with something I wrote? Just want to talk? Feel free to direct e-mail to philipclark@hotmail.com.

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Drug Addict

Ben is a co-founder of TNG.

Rush Limbaugh is in the news again. Apparently, the Democrats are doing a good job of helping him promote his voice as the focal point of the Republican party. I’m supportive of anything that helps the GOP implode, but I feel drunk when confronted with the reality that Rush is still taken seriously by the people we rely on for information and analysis.

Rush Limbaugh is a drug addict. For whatever reason, America seems to have forgotten that fact. For over two years, he illegally obtained and used massive amounts of Lorcet, Hydrocodone, and Oxycontin, otherwise known as “Hillbilly Heroin.” He abused so much of it that he went deaf in both ears and rapidly lost a great deal of weight. Any idea how many drugs it takes to lose your hearing and drop 40 lbs? I'm guessing a lot.

Let's review some of the prevailing signs of drug addiction:

• Paranoia, delusions
  
• Temporary psychosis, hallucinations
  
• Dishonesty
  
• Unreliability
  
• Verbosity, “up” and cheerful behavior, with seemingly boundless energy.
  
• Irritability, agitation, and anger
  

These characteristics not only describe Rush Limbaugh, but someone whose opinions should not be taken seriously. I don't want to demonize drug addicts or inspire hatred for Limbaugh, because I'm sympathetic to the overwhelming psychic pain these sick people feel on a daily basis. 12-step programs work because they are designed to deflate a massive ego (typical of addicts) while suggesting steps for rebuilding self-esteem, but so often addicts refuse to admit they have a problem or they shift addictions. Granted, Rush is probably off the pills, but once an addict, always an addict. Any graduate of the Alcoholics Anonymous 12-step program will admit that. When addicts don't address their underlying psychological problems they just redirect their addictions. They continue to hide their crippling insecurity by further inflating their self-importance and self-medicating, if not with drugs than some other proxy. Rush, who is reviled by so many, can't possibly pump enough air into his ego bubble to keep the demons at bay. It's a testament to his strength and personal fortitude that he hasn't exploded. My guess is that he'll off himself with a shotgun during his radio show. Probably between an interview with Ann Coulter and an analysis of Barack Obama's ties to satanism. But I digress.

Due to the circumstances of my past, I’ve known many drug addicts. Despite their own special charms, all were reckless, deeply disturbed liars. They were also the last people I would count on...particularly for critical thinking. Unfortunately Journalists overlook the obvious and continue to elevate his voice by including it at the apex of national debate. Some time ago I saw David Gregory, host of Meet the Press (the gold standard of political reporting and debate, supposedly), counterpoint the ideas of one of his esteemed guests by referencing Rush Limbaugh, as though better options weren't available. I almost choked on my granola. I haven’t watched Meet the Press since, as I don't have the stamina to slide where this slippery slope leads, be it the GEICO lizard ruminating on the auto bailout or a foreign policy debate between Hillary Clinton and Marvin the Martian.

I don’t want to be entertained by news, I want to be informed. Anyone who cites Limbaugh’s opinions in the marketplace of ideas immediately loses credibility, assuming that the context isn’t humorous infotainment or overt and often ridiculous pandering, as provided by the likes of Jon Stewart, Bill Maher, the Huffington Post, or Fox News. I’m not saying that limits should be placed on ideas and their discussion, but we do owe it to ourselves as rational creatures to limit the conversation to the voices of those who haven’t completely destroyed every ounce of their credibility. If the so-called reputable programs that you rely on for news insert the opinions of a discredited drug addict in to the national conversation, please reconsider your news source. There are better options.

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General Outcry Expected

TNG reader Rebecca submits this post.

Something deeply upsetting happened outside of Fab Lounge last week and we all need to know about it. Read the full story from the Washington Blade here, trigger warning applies.

Basically, a couple of transmen were physically assaulted, yes physically assaulted, by a group of lesbians (and a male friend) outside Fab Lounge. Read that again because you need to know it.

There are a couple reasons that everyone in the queer community in this city must know about this incident.

The first (and it sickens me to write this) is that apparently transmen – and by extension all people with alternative gender identity and expression - are not physically safe at some of DC’s queer events. So that means they, and those who love them, have to know to watch their backs.

The second is that we as a community have to address this issue immediately. It must be made crystal clear that this kind of hatred and behavior is not tolerated and not welcome.

If you hear or see transphobic comments or behavior, it is your responsibility to stop it. If you have transphobic thoughts or concerns, it is your responsibility to educate yourself. Here are a few places to start:

• http://www.nctequality.org

• http://thetaskforce.org/issues/transgender

• http://www.transgenderdor.org/?page_id=4


What happened last week outside Fab Lounge was a hate crime. It is beyond unacceptable. All the peripheral L Word storylines in the world don’t change the sad fact that there are many lesbians who are transphobic. That things have gone far enough that lesbians feel empowered to assault transpeople is shocking and it points to a failure of our community. It means that other kinds of non-physical violence have been going unaddressed for too long.

Something queer people know well is that being silent in the face of violence does not help anyone. If there are queer events and spaces that are not safe for transpeople, they need to be called out. Same for transphobic people. I hope you all will join me in this.

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Chemicals Don't Mess Me Up... This Time

This post was written by TNG co-founder Zack.

Original illustration by Ryan Blomberg.

I sat at my dining room table, bleary-eyed and sweaty. Seconds ago I had pulled my own hair and dug my nails into the flesh of my forearms just to force my eyes open. It was 10 in the morning but might as well have been the middle of the night. I couldn't concentrate. The couch called my name. The bed yelled even louder. My minds' eye shot through my apartment building, picturing every soft surface in every home within it. "I could lie down on someone's rug right now," I thought to myself. "I could curl into a ball in a pile of leaves in our courtyard."

I was trying to quit the other Columbian export. The brown dragon. I had had the espresso monkey on my back for far too long and wanted it off. I was sick of the jitters. The fetid breath. Running full tilt across the Ellington bridge because I was about to go to the bathroom in my pants and a homeless man occupied the sole secluded spot in the adjoining park, leaving the Open City cafe as the only thing standing between me and a very public Oreo Explosion. So I switched to decaf. But it didn't work. I spent a whole week irritable, exhausted and utterly ineffectual. So I went right back to giving daily metaphorical blowjobs to Juan Valdez for a very real fix.

"So this," I thought to myself, "is what it feels like to be an addict."

I'm a gay man with a mild family history of substance abuse. These twin legacies provide a host of reasons to monitor, if not stem, the number of chemicals that work in symphony to facilitate my daily routine. We already know that I can't quit coffee. What else is in my box of Mother's Little Helpers?

Back in December I sat in a therapist's comfy chair being informed that anti-anxiety medication would probably do a lot of good towards helping me stop feeling, all the time, like I had left a stove on but couldn't remember where. I've told you this already. He kept his dog - a pony-sized English lab -in his office. This was either because it could sense patients' feelings and help put them at ease or my doctor didn't trust his local dog walking service.

It's part of my daily routine now. The pills are expensive and occasionally produce frustrating (but pleasant for my boyfriend) sexual side effects. I once told my dentist that I was on them because I thought it might help cure the ferocious teeth grinding that had worn through five nightguards and the top layer of my back teeth. He replied solemnly this was a good thing, but that they were just a pill and I shouldn't start thinking I needed them to get through life. I was tempted to point out that the first time I met him it was on Halloween and he was dressed like a french maid, but this was more defensive than it was relevant so I left it alone.

I got a different bottle of higher-powered meds for the days that things get really bad. This one scares me, and I don't like to admit that things might ever get really bad. I took them once and felt floaty. It was not a pleasant sensation.

I recently discovered the wallet-saving phenomenon that is generic Propecia. I'd been taking the real stuff since I turned 22 and my sister pointed out how big my forehead was getting. I (and most people, I suspect) will drop a couple extra dollars in the name of vanity. About a year ago I discovered the buzz cut and decided to quit cold turkey. Now, though, my jew-fro is back and I needed to research some cheaper options. I save a ton of money, but the cheap stuff comes in quadruple-sized pills that need to be quartered in a pill cutter. It takes fucking forever and makes me wonder if its worth it.

It doesn't require a prescription, but whiskey is quickly replacing Bud Light as my overindulgence of choice. Maybe it's frugality in the face of economic hardship, as any bargain shopper would tell you that one shot of Jim Beam is a better deal than three beers. And it saves me so many trips to the bathroom. And I really, really like the way it tastes. Luckily this habit is still relegated to Saturday evenings. If you ever see me at brunch somewhere, nursing a Denver omelet and Maker's Mark, call up the Washington Post and let them know that I've officially become a disgusting person.

It used to be that I couldn't dance unless I was stoned. I like to think that my renewed dedication to yoga has undone that little reliance. Or maybe the whiskey's been helping.

Last time I got sick I did everything possible to avoid taking antibiotics. They're the one group of chemicals I don't trust. No matter how many nascent sinus infections I suffer through, I still think there are few problems that can't be cured by a cup of tea and a good night's sleep.

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Mar 10 – MISSED CONNECTION – w4w – 24 – (QUEER DC)

TNG reader Mauri submits this post.

I first discovered it as a naïve 19 year old, freshly arrived to the big city, and desperate to find a way out of my less than ideal living situation (imagine: roach infested studio, building adjacent to an adult theatre, and neighbors with a butch ex-con and his prison-acquired boyfriend).

Since then I have used CL - with varying degrees of success – to find housing, furniture, jobs, roommates, bikes, and even a couple first dates; yet practical purposes pale in comparison to Craigslist’s entertainment value. I habitually check the Best-of-Craigslist for amusing posts, and on occasions when I’m feeling brave, wander over to Rants and Raves (guaranteed to appall within seconds). The cream-of-the-Craigslist-crop, however, is Missed Connections.

For those more familiar with print media, Missed Connections is analogous to the I Saw You section in the back of your local alt-weekly (e.g. page 95 of the Washington City Paper). Within its pages await tales of chance encounters - frustrated by circumstance and imbued with hope and longing.

Missed Connections was intended for people who regularly navigate an impersonal urban landscape. Stolen glances with a cute boy in the stacks of Second Story Books? Bumped carts with a hot dyke in the Whole Foods produce aisle? MC provides the means to discover if the moment you thought you shared with these complete strangers holds mutual significance.

Missed Connections is also an outlet for the inarticulate and socially inept. Were you too sauced to get the number of that guy you were grinding on at Apex the other night? Are you too bashful to ask out the barista you’ve got your eye on? Pining away for your straight, married coworker and wondering if she feels the same way? (Ha! Not a chance.) MC is the anonymous voice that compensates for your failure to initiate meaningful exchanges with others.

Missed Connections once assisted me in finding my undergraduate philosophy class crush, however, these days I frequent it for two primary reasons: 1) the sliver of possibility that one day I will find myself among the “missed” and 2) an optimistic appreciation of the notion that two people might connect, however unlikely, in a random world where trivial interactions with strangers are routine.

Sadly, DC’s W4W section is a virtual ghost town. The last time I checked, there were so few results for the District that Craigslist had to glean posts from nearby metropolitan areas, such as Baltimore (prompting the ire of at least one individual). To worsen matters, many women use MC to passive-aggressively broadcast relationship drama (boring!). As a result of this, I’ve resorted to getting my Missed Connections fix from other cities’ and the glut of posts in the M4M section.

So, what is the meaning of this? First, does anyone out there – ladies or gents – actually read (or post in) the Missed Connections? Why or why not? And ladies, why the paucity of posts relative to other cities (or, for that matter, compared to the M4M section)? Should I take it upon myself to rescue DC’s W4W MC community and post something for the cute girl who I keep running into on my morning Metro commute? Finally, does anyone have any good Missed Connections stories? Or is MC the place where dreams go to expire – unread and eventually forgotten?

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Read Me!: The Westing Game by Ellen Raskin

TNG contributor Philip submitted this post. "Read Me!" is a monthly column looking at books of potential interest to GLBT readers.

Some books are obviously “gay books”: the characters are explicitly gay, sexuality plays an important role in the plot.

Other books are more open to debate: does an author’s being gay or lesbian make a book by that author inherently a “gay book”? Does the existence of an emotional relationship between two male or two female characters make a book gay? When I was a high school freshman and read Hermann Hesse’s Demian, I became conscious that part of the book’s appeal for me was the nature of the friendship between Demian and the narrator, Emil Sinclair. And later, when I taught John Knowles’s A Separate Peace to high school students, one of them would occasionally question whether the characters Gene and Finny were gay. Sex and sexuality don’t feature in either Demian or A Separate Peace, yet it is apparently possible to read the intensity of their central relationships as going beyond regular friendship.

But why, both as a child and now, does the prism of my sexuality so affect how I view Ellen Raskin’s Newbery-winning mystery The Westing Game? Can a book by a heterosexual author, without gay characters, without sex, and without intense same-gender relationships still qualify as a “gay book”?

This last was a question wrestled with by the committee that developed The Publishing Triangle’s list of the “100 best lesbian and gay novels” in 1999. Could To Kill a Mockingbird qualify as an LGBT novel, as many young lesbians read the tomboyish Scout as a developing baby-dyke? What about characters many gay and lesbian readers had secret crushes on, like the protagonists of the Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew series? (These, after all, were also campy enough to spawn such books as Mabel Maney’s Nancy Clue and The Hardly Boys parodies.) What about children’s classic Harriet the Spy (admittedly written by butch lesbian Louise Fitzhugh), which featured another tomboy protagonist? In the end, To Kill a Mockingbird made the list and the others didn’t, but the reasons had as much to do with literary quality as any accord having been reached in the debate.

These are the arguments in my mind as I consider my deep affection for The Westing Game. Part of my enjoyment of the book is literary: Raskin has written an absorbing mystery with stunningly complex plotting. The game of the title is the search by the sixteen heirs of paper-product magnate Sam Westing to discover which of them killed him. Paired up into eight teams, the heirs must try to piece together seemingly useless clues Westing leaves for them in his intricate, off-kilter will. The heir who can name Westing’s killer receives his entire $200 million estate; the others get nothing.

Juggling sixteen heirs and several important minor characters, Raskin manages to pull together not only her main plot, but the side dramas in her characters’ lives as they struggle with family relationships, past histories, and new alliances and allegiances along with the fiendishly difficult task put before them. After all, in a novel that features “ a dressmaker, a secretary, an inventor, a doctor, a judge,” but also “a bookie…a burglar…a bomber…and...a mistake,” there are bound to be tensions, quarrels, and puzzles to uncover even beyond the main puzzle of which heir killed Sam Westing.

It is because of these characters that I believe I responded so strongly, as a gay reader, to The Westing Game. For an under-200 page book written for children, The Westing Game does an incredible job developing such a large cast of characters. Nearly all of the heirs have their own crosses to bear, sometimes openly and sometimes very secretly. For example, Flora Baumbach, the dressmaker, masks loneliness and deep pain at the death of her mentally retarded daughter, Rosalie, behind a constant grin. Her seemingly inappropriate response early in the novel to Chris Theodorakis, a palsied, wheelchair-bound teenager, must be entirely reevaluated in light of later discussions about Rosalie.

Each character’s secret, internal life is revealed as the novel continues. J.J. Ford may be cool and confident in her professional life as the first African American judge on the state supreme court, but late revelations about her childhood connection to Sam Westing illuminate wounds she has never gotten past. Angela Wexler looks like the perfect young lady, but deep tensions about her status as daughter, friend, and soon-to-be-wife cause her to consider lashing out. And her younger sister, “Turtle” Wexler, who is seen by even her own mother as a childish, vicious brat, proves not only intelligent, but acutely attentive to detail and capable of sensitivity and emotional warmth.

Gays and lesbians who are not out of the closet are forced to deal with the ramifications of keeping a secret that could cause them danger or rejection if revealed. As a kid carrying around his own secret thoughts and secret life, I believe I was especially ready for the world of The Westing Game. I was not yet able to articulate all the details of my sense of difference when I first read the novel, but there were characters who felt isolated from others, who felt unloved or unlovable, who were seen as freaks. As I grew older and knew what my difference was, I returned to The Westing Game. Because the characters were finally able to reveal themselves—at least to their partner in the game, if not always to the entire group of heirs—and still find acceptance and friendship, not only was The Westing Game a “gay book” for me, but a particularly hopeful one.

Of course, the harboring of secrets and the fear of rejection is not a situation unique to gay people. Ellen Raskin herself had a type of secret life. The public knew her as a cheerful children’s book illustrator—for example, she not only wrote The Westing Game, she also painstakingly designed the book jacket—and an author of both picture books for younger children and four unique and clever novels for older kids. But Raskin spent most of her adult life suffering from bouts of severe pain owing to a rare degenerative disease that attacked the connective tissue in her muscles. The Westing Game’s Sydelle Pulaski, who fakes a wasting disease in a bid for attention from the other heirs, is a psychological curiosity considering the author’s very real condition. Raskin did not speak about the disease that would take her life at the age of only 56 in 1984, but it seems certain that her clear evocation of characters who carry secrets and are seen as outsiders in award-winning works ranging from Figgs and Phantoms to The Tattooed Potato and Other Clues was based in part on her own experiences.

It is therefore under only the broadest possible definition that Ellen Raskin’s The Westing Game can be considered a “gay book.” But in defining it as one—however inaccurate that may seem to most—I arrive at a place I find instructive. What authors, gay and straight, are trying to do is to reflect the human condition in their works. When an author succeeds, categorizing the work that results begins to seem irrelevant. Would that we lived in a world where common humanity overcame the categories we impose on ourselves and others.

Questions or comments about this column, The Westing Game, or another glbt novel? Recommendation of something I should read? E-mail me directly at philipclark@hotmail.com.

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Housing Corner: Where to look for Affordability in DC

TNG readers David and Don submitted this post.

Many times people ask residents of the Norwood Apartments, “where can I find an affordable place to live in DC?” It's a question you hear a lot these days, and longtime DC residents understand the difficulty in finding a place in a good neighborhood that won't break the bank. So why does it seem harder and harder to find decent rent controlled apartment buildings these days? Because they're disappearing in a battle of profit versus affordability.

Here at the Norwood, after tenants stood united in saying “NO to condo,” we are now negotiating to buy our building. Buying your building is a little discussed and often hidden option that your landlords might not want you to consider. When a landlord is a motivated seller, tenants have the opportunity to make an offer for the building. The result is tenants will be able to negotiate a deal that will work for them, and they will then have the power to choose to convert the building to a cooperative or affordable condominium once they are owners. The city encourages tenant purchases, and even provides millions of dollars in funding annually through the Housing Production Trust Fund.

At one Northwest apartment building, the Somerset House, tenants are facing a similar opportunity to exercise their rights and say “No to condo,” and yes to buying their building. Somerset is a beautiful building that caters to gays, lesbians and families with a great location, high ceilings, and large square footage studios and 1 or 2 bedroom apartments. New tenants should get involved with the tenants association, and empower others to protect affordability, and experience the power of standing with their neighbors to enrich their community.

The Norwood Apartments, near Logan Circle, is known for being a good source of rent controlled studios; however in 2007 we came close being one of the “disappeared” buildings. In the past few years, hundreds of once affordable buildings have been converted to higher priced condominiums. While there is nothing intrinsically wrong with condos, they are often less accessible to young professionals and others who are credit “challenged.” Add to that the glut of condos that remain on the market (left over from the real estate bubble) and you're left with few good reasons for choosing condo conversion.

The effect of rent control for landlords of apartments built before 1976 is that the value of their buildings is kept lower, at the same time they're still able to make consistent profits through annual cost of living rent increases. This means that for buildings like the 84-unit Norwood Apartments, which was snapped up in 1999 for $2 million, the temptation for the landlord to squeeze out more money becomes irresistible. The reality is that landlords are motivated to buy discounted buildings, neglect maintenance, and then make tens of millions in profit through condo conversions. The catch is that landlords must convince (or “buy out”) existing tenants who are typically all too willing to give up their rights for a dime.

The landlord at the Norwood brought in a well known developer to make the “condo pitch” to residents in January 2007. But what they were offering just didn't seem to make up for the loss of affordable rental housing that would result: Could a $5,000 buyout really make a longterm difference when rents in other buildings in the neighborhood ran two or three times higher? Would I really want to commit over $200,000 for a small studio with few amenities? The condo developers said this was a good deal, but for our community of immigrants, young professionals, and gay men, it just didn't add up. So the tenants of the Norwood exercised our rights and said “No thanks” to condo.

The Norwood was saved, and tenants here are now looking forward to being owners in the near future. Join the thousands of others in Washington who have successfully purchased their buildings and converted to cooperatives. Cooperatives provide affordable homeownership opportunities, with many of the tax benefits of buying a house. To answer the question of where to find a decent place to live: check out buildings like the Somerset House, and learn about the power of exercising your rights as a tenant.

Resources:
Office of the Tenant Advocate
Housing Counseling Services
Latino Economic Development Corporation
The Georgetown Law Harrison Institute
The Norwood Tenants Association
DC Tenants Advocacy Network

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Lutherans Move Towards Recognizing Gay Couples

TNG Managing Editor Corey, who is also a Theology major at Georgetown, submitted this piece.

As you may have read a few weeks back, I am writing my thesis on the Lutheran Church (ELCA)'s ongoing work on changing their policy towards same-sex couples. A week ago, the task force who has been writing the new policy proposal released new documents that shocked a lot of people. The recommendations laid the groundwork not only for same-sex couples to be given a form of official recognition by congregations that chose to do so, but also for same-sex couples to serve as pastors if neither the congregations nor the bishops and bodies overseeing them had a problem with such a candidate.

The ELCA already allows openly gay and lesbian people to serve as pastors, but they must remain celibate - unlike hetero pastors, who can be married if they wish. The proposal stops short of creating an official ceremony procedure, or rite, for same-sex couples, but would allow for pseudo-official recognition by the church.

The reason? A majority of the task force feels that partnered gays and lesbians should be allowed to become pastors. However, they don't think this can be done without some way to tell who is "partnered" for life, as a married couple pledges to be, and who is just having a fling or short-term relationship. The only way to do this is to make a publicly-accountable procedure, involving some kind of ceremony and registry, so that the members of the church know that it is for real. The task force made clear that accountability is crucial, and that same-sex partners need the same support network that the church provides to hetero couples if they want these relationships to last.

And, basically, they couldn't have this procedure for pastoral candidates and not the rest of the church. Hence, proposing that congregations be allowed to formally recognize same-sex relationships.

What's interesting about the proposal is that it both puts forward a pretty radical proposal while tempering it with the principle that congregations not comfortable with a same-sex partnered pastor do not have to select one. Similarly, a bishop or synod (basically, subsection of the church) that feel morally opposed to this notion do not have to approve of such a pastor being selected. It's a system that - while not ideal from a gay standpoint - might actually allow the measure to be passed without the whole church falling apart. Real progress usually comes in small steps, and this is not a bad one at all for the church to be taking.

I also think it's notable that the church still has disagreements as to whether or not gay sex is inherently sinful, but recognizes that like it or not, there are a lot of gay couples in the church. At more liberal congregations, they are all but getting married anyway. And where being "out" is less of a viable option, people are more likely to sleep around or at least not keep a long term partner - a situation which no one in the church likes, be they in support or opposition to same-sex couple recognition. The task force has presented a solution that actually addresses issues rather than hiding from problems, a rare thing in American Christianity today.

The proposal has a few hurdles to pass through yet, and it's unclear what will happen. There has already been some harsh reactions from the more "conservative" factions of the church, a term which I am hesitant to use because it implies a perhaps-incorrect political fault line. The bishops have begun to respond, too. In March it will face the church council; if it passes there, it will have to get voted on by the entire church assembly in August's Minneapolis-based conference.

If you're interested in learning more, you can read through the church's documents, but I'll warn you, they're a bit hefty for the casual reader. Also, if people are interested, I can write more updates on this - god only knows I have plenty of material - and I would be happy to send sections of my thesis work to you if you contact me. Though I may make fun of you for reading my thesis.

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I Love "Cute Boy Syndrome"

TNG co-founder Zack spent some time over Valentines Day reevaluating what inconsequential things he loves. All this week he will tell you what he came up with. Check in tomorrow for "Things I Love" pt. 5.

Boys: You're at a bar when you look over your left shoulder and see paradise. 5'9" with medium shoulder and spiky black hair. Jeans that fit just right. That clean-shaven look that so few guys can pull off without looking prepubescent. Most importantly they are missing that air of guarded masculinity that you find so repugnant on the men you meet at bars. Your eyes lock. You go over to say hi, but before you even open your mouth the object of your gaze sticks a hand out. "Hi," they say, looking in your eyes. "I'm Janine."

This is cute boy syndrome. It's when a girl so fits your type that you are attracted to her. I love this. As someone who identifies clearly as "gay" it is rare to have my sexuality challenged. I went through a regrettable (for the girls involved) straight/bi phase and haven't really looked back since its ended. I'll find myself platonically falling for the occasional beautiful guitar girl or appreciate a female yoga teacher's ability to fold up like a Murphy bed. But try as I might I can't go the extra mile and imagine doing anything untoward with them. It just seems foreign to me now.

But if I meet a girl who looks like a cute guy all bets are off. It makes a person question the most fundamental tenets of their sexuality: Am I as gay as I thought I was? What is gender, anyway? Would I rather get pegged on my back or on my hands and knees?

Has this happened to anyone else? Ladies: Have you ever been the victim of Cute Girl Syndrome?

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In The Ladies' Room: A Valentine's Day Lesson in Giving and Receiving

This week, TNG Events Planner Amelie explains how Valentine's Day can get stressful once you realize that you're not the only one hoping for chocolates and flowers.

When I came out my freshman year of college, one of the things I was most looking forward to was Valentine's Day. Though I can walk the walk and talk the talk of a progressive woman, at the end of the day, I love some romance and some flowers. So you can imagine my disappointment when my freshman year equaled no Valentine, as did sophomore year, junior year and senior year.

But finally, this year I had a Valentine. Only there's one thing about Valentine's Day that I forgot to think about: I had to get someone a present, not just sit there and receive one.

In reality, getting a present for one's significant other shouldn't be a huge a big deal. Some flowers, maybe some chocolates; things like that say romance. Unfortunately, while I like to be on the receiving end of romantic gestures, I'm not that good at producing them. Unless they're food related, of course - romantic steak dinner? No problem. Romantic Valentine's Day gift? A little trickier.

It all started with my girlfriend and I casually talking about what kind of flowers we liked. I couldn't remember any names, and neither could she. We moved on and finished watching Ace of Cakes. But then a few days later, the following exchange took place.

Ladyfriend: I like orchids. What about you?
Me: Yeah I like orchids. They're nice.
Ladyfriend: No, what kind of flowers do you like?

At that point, I realized she had not meant, "I like orchids, do you like orchids? Maybe we should get some orchids to decorate my room," like I had originally thought. She was planning. And suggesting. For the V-Day. It suddenly became clear that my original idea of giving her a nice homemade card and the completed sticker-by-number unicorn mosaic I started for her when I was bored one day was not going to suffice. I knew she was going to make a really sweet, romantic gesture, and I wanted to be able to do the same.

On TV, people make Valentine's day seem easy. You go to the flower website, click buttons, and your loved one gets flowers. It is not this way in real life. You have to think about things like:

1. Are these flowers going to be ugly in real life? Do they just look pretty on the interweb?
2. Will these flowers be delivered by 12:30 pm, when my ladyfriend leaves work?
3. Is it worth it to pay $24.00 extra for delivery when I am short on dollar bills?

In the days leading up to Valentine's day, these questions were running through my head like horses at the fairgrounds. And stressing me out big time. Which is why I called a local florist a few days in advance to see if they would be open on Valentine's Day. That way, I figured, I could get the flowers that day. The florist could help me, and I could hand-deliver them. After confirming this plan and its romance potential with some friends/members of the TNG staff, I moved forward.

And, I must say, things went almost perfectly. The florist was very nice. After I awkwardly said I was getting flowers for my girlfriend, not my mother or boyfriend as she had offered, she gave the wide-eyed "OH-you're-gay-I'm-tolerant-that's-wonderful" nod and proceeded to ask me all about what colors and flowers she liked until my head was spinning. Finally I think I said "purple and yellow" to colors (which I made up)and then, I heard her say "orchid." After that I was set. Orchids, in a bunch. No vase. Some decorative leaves would be lovely, thanks. How many dollars? Here's my debit card. Farewell, flower shop, I'm off to surprise my lady!

In the end, all the stress was worth it. She was very happy, and very surprised. But I did learn an important lesson: just like Christmas, Valentine's Day is more about giving than receiving. It's not just about you shoving chocolates down your face as fast as you can. That's what you do February 15th, when all Valentine's candy is half-price at the CVS.

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Learning To Love My Inner Hetero

TNG reader and Brooklynite Marcel submitted this post.


No matter how accepting society may seem, it's hard to be gay. Or bisexual. Or homo-flexible. Or curious. Or perpetually questioning or, or...

Say, which "job description" shall I choose today?

Long story short: at about age 18 or 19, I finally accepted the lingering feeling that I wasn't half as straight as I thought. I did a healthy amount of soul-searching – no holding back, no unhealthy repression, just acceptance. I finally came out as bisexual when I was 20, then identified as gay for a while, then bisexual again and finally back to gay. Five years later the only thing that’s remained constant is: I’m definitely not a straight man.


Instead of a miniature angel and devil pair standing on either shoulder, it seems I have a gorgeous and outspoken pair of twinks on my right, and on the left is a fussy, finicky, shy little hetero who seems to spend most of his time cloistered in his room ogling DVDs of Jessica Alba in her Dark Angel days while eating Haagen Dasz out of the carton. Alas, he's never been good at asserting himself, and he's got strict, perhaps unrealistic tastes. At unpredictable moments he emerges from his closet and demands that his voice be heard, but the twinks work hard to ensure that most women don't appear on my radar (or my YouTube favorite videos list).

Given that I've only ever slept with dudes up to this point (and think mainly about dudes), I've come to accept that at best it's a quad-tearing stretch to say I'm bisexual – I'm not 50/50, not 60/40, not even 70/30. I'm probably 90 percent homosexual, or Kinsey 4.8, or something.

Yet despite my same-sex proclivities, I still hesitate to embrace the "gay" identity. What does "gay" even mean? My dictionary says it means happy, exuberant, y'know, gay. Well, I'm not exactly known as being Mr. Sunshine, especially not in a recession. Does being gay mean rainbows, wigs, drag, the latest anorexic fashions from Milan, Adonis-worship, behaving "effeminately" or (God forbid) voting Democrat? Margaret Cho once did a hilarious bit on a gay friend of hers who'd squeal with disdain at the mere thought of vagina - "Ewwwww...I don't want none of that! Ha ha...girl, I'm allergic!" I've had male friends of mine express similar sentiments. Well, that’s not me.

"Oh, well you're a straight acting gay!" Um, no. What is "straight" supposed to be? A macho attitude, a need to dominate others, red meat and football, competing with your buddies over who's more "masculine" or who most "appreciates" the ample-chested females in the subway, or the coveted threesome with two chicks? If these don't work, then how about convulsing in horror or lashing out violently at the mere suggestion of intimacy with another man? How about writing it into scripture?

"Gay" and "straight", at least the way they're commonly used, are ideological terms that speak more to stereotypes and culturally ascribed attitudes and behaviors than anything else. Think on it a bit. More than anything described above, the one underlying rule of all rules for straight men is "Thou shall not fall in love or show feelings of tenderness for another male, nor shall thou even so much as consider laying with a male as with a woman." The gay male counterpart seems to be "Thou shall treasure thy fag hags, but forever shall they be off limits to thee in the bedroom." Off limits! As a “straight” teenager, I understood implicitly that I was not allowed to have same-sex desires, but I eventually overcame that and accepted them as healthy and natural. But alas! Upon stepping into the “gay” world, I began to understand that I was not allowed to have desires for the opposite sex. No ambiguity! Don't be one of those bisexual traitors! Keep the Commandments!

Well, I admit I've always been a bit of a nonconformist, a "heretic" if you will. I see now that's partly what kept me coming back to a bisexual identity, even if it's become clear that I don't truly fit into that category like a hand into a glove. The same open-mindedness, strong self-awareness, and refusal to conform to the cult of masculinity that drove me from being "straight", has kept me from accepting the gilded cage of being a "gay" man.

So if someone asks me now where I stand, my answer is: "a very open minded homo". Because that little hetero inside me needs to have his day in the sun too even if he usually hides in the closet playing Xbox or something. He's a fussy, timid part of me, and because I love myself I've learned that I should show my inner hetero some love too –gay/straight ideology be damned.

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Film: The Sons of Tennessee Williams

TNG Founder Ben submitted this post.

From Tim Wolff, director/producer of The Sons of Tennessee Williams:

The Sons of Tennessee Williams is the story of the gay men of New Orleans who created a vast and fantastic culture of "drag balls" starting in the late 1950s. These men worked with the traditions of Mardi Gras to bring gay culture into public settings in the early 1960s. By 1969, there were four gay Mardi Gras krewes, legally chartered by the state of Louisiana, throwing yearly extravaganzas at civic venues around the city. "Society matrons begged for ball tickets from their hairdressers".

They succeeded in bringing down the “Jim Crow” laws that targeted gay people for offenses such as public assembly, same-sex dancing and cross-dressing. They staged a flamboyant costumed revolution without politics and won freedoms during a time, as now, when laws and people fought against them.

When I was in college at the University of Louisiana-Lafayette, I had the honor of pulling floats for the Krewe of Apollo at their annual Mardi Gras Ball in Lafayette, LA. Apollo is one of two gay Krewes in the Acadiana region of Louisiana, where I was raised, and the experience of serving their court was unforgettable. After the procession of royalty (many outfits cost tens of thousands of dollars each) me and my friend Chris, both dressed in tuxedos, dragged the costumed titans of Apollo around the floor of the Cajundome while 12,000 drunk straight people dressed in their finest formal attire screamed their approval.

In the center of the floor, dozens of tables were set for the members of the Krewe and their honored guests. I remember sitting at my table prior to the promenade, looking around and above me at the stacked tiers of well dressed heterosexuals bristling with excitement and revelry as they settled in to their top dollar seats in anticipation for the show. I had been out of the closet for only a couple of years, but the expression of my sexuality was limited to well defined parameters of a life lived in shadows. Being on stage (in a sense) that night and seeing the way that straight people in my own community were drawn to what these gay men had created opened a door on my limited notions of gay acceptance. I've never related to drag culture or worn a dress, but I'm grateful to all those men wearing heels who provided me in grand fashion the experience of not feeling judged by any standard except a fabulous one. It was my first real sense of gay power.

Tim Wolff, the director of this documentary, asks that you consider being a financial sponsor of this history project. All donations qualify for a federal tax exemption, and the production “has been conceived and produced entirely in the city of New Orleans, by people who have loved this place and lost because of it.” If you care to make a small donation, you can contact Tim at timwolffhouse@yahoo.com. As I understand it, the film will be released this spring.

Here's a little lagniapppe: Videos of a recent Krewe of Apollo Ball (at the Cajundome):

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There's a Reason Cupid Wears a Diaper

This post was submitted by Randal Mason, a writer and nonprofit consultant who lives and works in Takoma Park. And, yes, he's single.

Recently, I've felt that dating is like eating my vegetables. I do it because it's supposed to be good for me. And yet, there's another reason. I love to complain.

You see, I feel that I have no right to grouse about the lack of love in my life if I'm not doing something about it. It's not as if the Universe is going to deliver the man of my dreams to my door. Well, that is unless you count the UPS man who services my neighborhood. Because, honey, there's potential there.

So, in the spirit of broadening my social and romantic horizons, I went to the Burgundy Crescent Volunteer's Men's Valentine Party last Sunday.

The place was crowded, although not painfully so. However, there was only one bartender for a room full of gay and bi men. Hello?

After overcoming my desire to bolt from the place in the first five minutes, I got a drink and chatted with a few guys. The icebreaker was, as advertised, pain-free, and everyone was friendly. And while I was attracted to a couple of guys there, I felt no real spark. But, really, what was I expecting?

It's hard to be a frustrated romantic, especially this close to Valentine's Day.

Being in a "culture of desire" we are defined by our attraction to others of the same sex. But how do we as a community celebrate our relationships, fight for marriage equality, and still value the lives of those of us who are single by choice or by circumstance?

We're taught to place such high expectations on love. Love will alleviate our loneliness, fulfill all our erotic longings, and give us a sense of belonging. It will, in essence, save us. And that's not really very fair to love or each other, is it?

Shel Silverstein had it right in "The Missing Piece Meets the Big O." Love at its best is about companionship, not completion.

And that, ultimately, is what I'm seeking - the sweet spot between autonomy and intimacy, between looking for love and still being whole without it.

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G-A-Y

TNG reader Kyle submitted this post.

The word "gay" means a lot to me. It is a word for which people have died, and continue to die. It's a word for which I almost died. It's a word that most of the human race treats with contempt, and a few with great pride. Lately I have been hearing more people questioning the validity of the word "gay" as an identity marker. Either they assume that "gay" is a social construct, and has no inherent meaning, or they assume that "gay" represents a set of values at odds with their own personal values, despite the fact the persons questioning the validity of "gay" identify as homosexual. Can someone be homosexual and not be gay?

I understand questioning one's own identity. I understand being frustrated with the gay community. But when I hear of people trying to shed their gay identity as easily as changing a major in college, I get very troubled. What makes people of a homosexual orientation want to treat the word "gay" with such contempt?

Maybe it is because people in the gay community are very often shallow, mean-spirited, spiritually stunted. They obsess over celebrities and fashion. They are catty in the bars and dismissive online. At times it seems like they stubbornly refuse to see one's inner beauty and focus exclusively on external appearences. Many gay people are lonely as a result, and yet they don't outgrow the behaviors that keep them from connecting with other human beings. If this is the life of a gay person, why would someone want to be known as "gay"?

But guess what? Human beings are shallow, mean-spirited and spiritually stunted. It is the human condition, and one that few people ever outgrow. Human beings are mean to each other, prone to gossip, play games of one-ups-man-ship in the office and in the bars. Human beings form relationships on shallow bases, and stubbornly refuse to see each other's inner beauty. If you want to reject the label "gay" because you believe the gay community is rife with shallow, petty people, you should logically reject the label "human" for the same reasons as well.

Just as there are fine examples of human beings, people who have depth, experience, compassion and kindness, there are gay people among them. They are part of the gay community just as they are part of the human race. And while there are gay people who are shallow and mean, there are gay people who are deep and kind.

Too often we think gay culture is confined to a narrow set of values - the disco, high fashion, Oscar parties, show tunes, appletinis and shopping. If you believe that is what gay culture is about, you need to get out more. The truth is that gay life is as broad as the gay people who live it. Gays love Madonna; they also love Manu Chao. They love fashion, but some get their clothes at the thrift store or at WalMart. They love pop culture, but some are into obscure art films, or heavy Russian novels, or Scandinavian minimalist post-punk bands. When you choose to think of gay culture as limited to fashion and disco and fruity drinks for brunch, you insult all those out and happy gays who aren’t into those things. It isn't that fashion and disco and fruity drinks are bad things - they just don't represent the entirety of gay culture and experience.

Is “gay” a social construct? Only as much as “homosexuality” is – and there are some who believe homosexuality is a social construct. But if it is, it is a social construct that has cost people their lives. Have they died for something that has no value, for a myth, for an ephemera? And as for those of us who have survived, are we to be dismissed because you don’t like the word? Maybe “gay” is a social construct, as is all human sexuality. But if we discard it now, what will happen to us, to our culture, to our history of pain, death, survival and triumph? If you walk away from those things, what does that really say about you? If we do away with gay space, where will tomorrow’s youth with homosexual tendencies meet and mate? In the public square? Maybe someday in a distant and enlightened future, where all human beings are safe to explore their feelings with others. But we haven’t reached that age yet, not by a long shot.

Rather than discard the "gay" label, I strongly urge people who know themselves to be homosexual to embrace the word “gay" and expand its meaning by showing the world (or at least themselves) what being gay looks like in their individual lives. Calling yourself "gay" doesn't mean putting on a cultural straitjacket. Calling yourself "gay" means accepting your homosexuality, and telling the world that this is what "gay" looks like in my case. And it doesn’t mean you reject the Madonna-loving, high-fashion, appletini drinking set; you simply show the world that you, too, are gay, and that "gay" has a much larger meaning than anyone had previously acknowledged. Why discard a word that can have such an expansive and beautiful meaning?

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Darwin Day: Fight the Future

TNG Founder Ben submitted this post.

Today is "Darwin Day," a celebration of Charles Darwin's contribution to humanity, namely the theory of evolution by natural selection. On November 24, 1859, his book The Origin of the Species was published. I recently reacquainted myself with Darwin's personal history, and was pleased to find that nearly 150 years later, he still has lessons to teach me.

Darwin was racked with anxiety over the direction his data took him. He feared the reactions his life's work might elicit from God and the public, and he hid his findings for years. Luckily, the rational impulse allowed him to transcend his fears. On his South American journeys, Darwin was forced to bear the politically conservative and racist harangues of his ship's captain and the extensive carnage of European colonialism: slavery, destruction of species for entertainment and personal enrichment, and massive deforestation. The exasperation he experienced when faced with such inflexible conventionalism empowered him to reject ignorance and throw light on the origin of man and his history, forever affirming that despite the consequences,the rational mind is the best means to bring light to the darkness. It's a lesson I don't want to forget.

It's easy to get lazy and assume that hard-won victories for rationality are forever decided battles. I'm as guilty of this as anyone, but the ignorances Darwin witnessed are still with us and they proliferate at every weakness in our defenses. Considering the early polling data, how many of us assumed the forces of reason would prevail over Prop 8? How many defeats of rational thought did this country suffer over the last eight years (of which we now pay the cost)? Considering the decline in educational standards and opportunities synonymous with recession and the public openness to radical ideology that typically accompanies such decline, how many more defeats might we suffer?

Evolution is under attack across the US. Last year, the teaching of evolution was challenged in scores of schools. During the same period, six states introduced (and Louisiana passed) "academic freedom laws" that discredit evolution, smuggle creationist teachings into the classroom, and sabotage state science standards. 2009 doesn't look much better. Oklahoma is first at bat with a strong anti-evolution bill, followed by Mississippi with a bill requiring warning labels on textbooks. Other states that may consider similar legislation in 2009 include Michigan, Florida, Missouri, New Mexico, and South Carolina.

Ignorance is the enemy. Our vigilance is required.

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"The Sexist" on Phase 1's Door Policy

This post was written by TNG co-founder Zack.

The Washington City Paper's sex/gender blog The Sexist just put out an article on a subject of frequent debate here on TNG: Phase 1's door policy. Largely enacted to keep military folk and gawkers out of DC's first lesbian bar, the rule also is a source of umbrage to many male readers of this blog. Exactly why that is I'm not sure; I can't imagine that too many gay guys are clamoring to go there for a drink. But The Sexist's unfailingly lovely editor Amanda Hess does a good job of presenting the different points of view at play. She also gives TNG a shout-out and quotes me. Thanks, Amanda! Luddites can check out a hard copy of the article in today's City Paper.

You can also read more about The Sexist in its TNG "Blog of The Week" write-up.

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Thoughts on Milk

My friend Shelby told me that when she went to see Milk she was determined not to cry, so whenever she felt tears start to mist from her eyes she defiantly pulled them back inside. However, when the film was over and she rose from her seat a stream of water poured from her nose. We both thought this was kind of cool. Recently, I went to see the film again, similarly intending to contain my emotional reaction to the film. Wouldn't you know it, at the end of the film I rose from my seat and a small reservoir of water flowed from my nose. While only a minor phenomenon, I found this nose/leaky thing reassuring. As powerful and difficult as emotions tend to be, it's nice to know they still follow certain logical patterns: brief consistent spurts or all at once, emotions will find expression regardless of the effort to manage or block them.

The emotional history of our collective community has been one of spurts: Inconsistent bursts from behind walls of prejudice, pain, and perseverance. We treated these walls as a castle and created a kingdom from within them, but now too many of us have recognized these walls as a form of prison, and we're breaking through and on the march with a man 30 years in the grave leading and uniting us with greater efficacy than HRC and the rest of the establishment gate keepers combined. I'm not sure how the arc of justice will continue its upward swing, but I know it will do so on a flood of emotion that will tear down the walls that are the only true obstacle to its trajectory. I can feel it.

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