The sentiment is not unique, I’ve heard it from many, with varying intentions and subtexts. On the one hand, there are those who will say that, while LGBT folks should be left alone, there’s no reason to claim “pride.” Doing so only serves to embarrass all of us. After all, do straights claim straight pride? If one’s sexual orientation is, putatively, something with which a person is born (according to many, but not all self-identified LGBT folks), then why is pride justified for something over which you have no control? This is an example of a hostile stance, but the last part of this question is a legitimate one which I’ve heard from queers and straights alike, and have asked myself many times.

The same question, of course, may be applied to any self-identification. Did I choose to be Jewish? Though there may be nuances to this question, my answer would be no. Is there, then, any meaning to my claiming any pride in this identity? What about deaf people? Deaf culture is something in which many deaf people take much pride, to the point that some rail against medical/technological advances in hearing restoration, fearing the destruction of their language and culture. Isn’t deafness a disability? What can it mean to be a proud deaf person? This year, however, I found an answer. It may seem obvious to many – indeed, having come to it, it now seems obvious to me – but not all of us get it right away. I had an insight about the definition of pride: The meaning of “pride” is contextual.

I can be proud of myself for getting a solo in my chorus, or for finishing a paper or article, or winning a scholarship. I can be proud of my bat mitzvah student as she reads from the Torah. Pride in achievements, whether your own, or those of another (or a combination thereof), is a pride that stands on its own. There is another definition of pride, though, that stands in the face of its antonym. A positive born of a negative, a flame that burns to spite the darkness. It is this pride out of which is born our queer Pride movement. It is a Pride that is born of shame. It is because we are engaging with this sort of pride, that we will not tone it down, we will not cover it up, lower the volume, or stifle our joy. It was not until this year that I fully realized what Queer pride, Jewish pride, Black pride, Deaf pride, Irish pride, etc. all have in common. All of these identifiers have been, and often still are, associated with shame in one respect or another. All have been, or are, categories of people whom the powerful, the majority, the “normative,” would like to shut up, sit down, disappear.

Why do I have to be so vocal about my Jewish identity? About my feminism? About my bisexuality? Why must I be so visible? So public? Because, I am here to tell you that I am not, and will not be, ashamed of who I am. Because, when you tell me to be quiet, to disappear, it is my job to shout in defiance. To dance with glee. To show you that I am here, I am me, get used to it. This year, I found the people like me in the parade. I marched with Congregation Beit Simchat Torah, the LGBT synagogue in Manhattan, and a contingent of JQY (Jewish Queer Youth) members. From this vantage point, as a queer Jew celebrating my visibility and that of people like me, I could love and celebrate all of the displays of folks who are different from me. This year, I learned that Pride is not about saying “Look at me!” It’s about saying “See me.” And I opened my eyes.

I shuffled down the hall into Andrea’s room and sat on her floor in the middle of the rug.  Looking down at the threads, at nothing in particular, I mumbled to her, “I……….. like guys.”  She was the first person I had come out to… sober, that is.  But my awkwardness was transformed by Andrea’s immediate response: “That’s wonderful! I’m so happy for you!”  Her excitement changed an uncomfortable and self-doubting moment into a source of pride for me.

A few weeks later, I came out to Brian, another friend of mine.  Again, I was hesitant and nervous but his first response was to congratulate me.  Then he asked if we could grab drinks later that week; he was excited for me and wanted to hear how I was processing the whole event.

Brian saw the contents of my well-hidden closets and responded with openness and with an interest not stained by morbid, gossip-driven curiosity.  Like Andrea, he gave me a sense of pride.  Moreover, he refused to let me retreat back to my old ways.  He knew I didn’t want to stay in the dark anymore, so even if I didn’t bring up my sexuality, he did.

Most of my closest friends are not gay, lesbian, or transgender, though many of them have been allies.  I’m encouraged by their support and their casual way of advocating for the dignity of LGBTQ in their daily interactions.  Most of all, I cherish those close straight friends of mine, like Andrea and Brian, who imparted to me pride and confidence.  Not only did they encourage me, but they helped me celebrate what I had yet to appreciate about myself.

Allies are those who turn on the light in the dark and neglected corridors I’ve come to know so well.  I’m referring to those hopelessly dim labyrinths that have been forged by the underside of an internalized heterosexism—where depression, anxiety, and self-loathing reside.  For so long I had wandered those halls as afraid of my sexuality as I was of my happiness.  However, when Andrea and Brian saw my earliest steps of coming out, their response brought to light the wonderful things which had been hidden for so long.

For me, the idea of “Pride” is about having sex with the light on—that is, exposing our darkened chambers to the midday sun.  The categories of decency and shame push into darkness those who divert from the publicly acceptable standards of sexual behavior and gender identity.  And so, many of us are left to fumble through the shadows alone, afraid to see the good in what others condemn.  As a celebration, “Pride” invites us to bring out our partner/s, whips, and toys, our identities and role-playing outfits without shame.  Pride shines light on our bedrooms [and elsewhere] and gets us to cheer!

And cheering is what my straight friends taught me to do.  I am grateful for those who have bestowed in me confidence; who taught me how to live with pride, how to turn on the light, and how to celebrate.  Our allies are those who regularly offer us their strength, comfort, and affirmation in an otherwise harsh world.  Yet, I can only summarize my profound gratitude in the simplest of words: “Thank you.”

June is my birthday month. It’s also pride month. This year, for the first time in my life, I got to celebrate it properly: in the eternal city, with a million other souls that together became one.  Together we made ourselves visible, we made ourselves heard and we demanded respect.

For me, pride was never about respect.  For me, respect never was of great importance.  It was something that came every now and them but would go away after a while, just as spontaneously as it arrived.

Not any more.

On June 11^th, I was lucky enough to attend the 2011 Europride parade in Rome.  It was such an amazing impression. When you see for the first time a crowd that big. It’s really a beautiful feeling: discovering, or better yet, confirming that it is true, there are others. There really are others that think like me, others that share some of my most profound notions of life and understand how my head works, because theirs works the same way! Then, after the first shock passes, you start to see all the faces individually. You see each pair of eyes; each expression; each smile and you finally realize just how happy everybody is.  They are all celebrating!  And just like that, you get immersed in that new world, because it really is another world.  You see yourself surrounded by all this gayness (!) that is dangerously contagious.  You get this sense of community and unity you have never before felt in your life.

The most amazing part of it all is that even after sunset, after we walked together, after we hear this amazing performance by Lady Gaga, (that despite my most fierce resistance has finally won me over) even after we cry to the most moving speech ever by a 70-year old grandmother has taken on her son’s struggle as her own, this sense continues.  I am finally able to be in peace with myself because I have seen with my own eyes that I am really not alone.  That monster that I fought to repress for so many years is not really a monster.  That difference that I have struggled with my entire life is not that big after all.  I can be the person I am and that’s all right.

People celebrate pride.  People celebrate the fact that they are alive, the fact that they are.  They celebrate that they are who they are and they are the way they are.  They celebrate that a difference makes us the same and because we are the same, we deserve the same respect; because we too are proud.

I don’t know if maybe it’s just the thinking of a naïve, over-sensitive, over-optimistic, barely-out-of-the-closet twenty-year-old after his very first pride parade.  Maybe it sounds old and clichéd, but it’s a feeling I’d like to hold on to, for as long as I can.

Happy pride!

For most of my life I’ve been judgmental and a little impatient with gay people who didn’t just come out. Are the risks really that dire? I suspected they were just chicken shit, or unwilling to stand up to their family or to whatever screwed up religious upbringing they had.

Growing up on Air Force bases wasn’t exactly the Castro, but I didn’t know any better than to walk and talk however I pleased (I was in full sashay mode by the age of twelve). I was sexually active soon thereafter, and stunned my Louisiana high school with an older boyfriend in my senior year.

Yes, I grappled with my Methodist teachings and suffered through some brutal rounds of dodge ball (affectionately known as “Smear the Queer” where I come from), but making it though my teens was mercifully uneventful.

The bullies were too freaked out by my jumpsuits and platform shoes to approach me, though I must credit my perpetually embarrassed, varsity jock brother for helping keep them at bay. The result of this rather fortunate gay adolescence was my ignorance of the perils of being out, and that arrogance suited me just fine for most of my young adulthood.

And then, years after my own coming of age, Matthew Shepard tried to live openly as a young gay man, too — until he was beaten and left to die tied to a fence in Wyoming. The images and details of his horrific final hours were like blunt force trauma directly to my heart. How could I have been so cavalier about what the real costs of coming out could be?

Today, I never downplay the societal risks of being gay, but I focus my writing on two things that added shameful layers to my identity: HIV and drug addiction. How ironic that the kid who believed there were no dangers to growing up gay would fall victim to two of the most common health risks among gay men: being infected with HIV and using drugs.

I’m still a sashaying, gay stereotype representing the most fabulous social ills, it would appear.

My sense of pride emerged not in response to being gay, but in my response to HIV and my drug addiction, in that order. I found personal self worth by helping my community face AIDS in the 1980’s, and I have rediscovered my self esteem while on the treacherous road back from crystal meth addiction.

Being gay isn’t something I have been proud of, in and of itself. But I take pride in how I have handled what I consider the fallout of being gay.

During this gay pride month of June, I hope we’ll all take some time to assess what we’re so damn proud of. I’ve made that list, and “being gay” isn’t anywhere on it. Do I take my sexuality for granted, or am I ungrateful?

I’m proud of Mark, the man as he is today. I’m proud of my brother for keeping the bullies away. And I’m proud at my success, day by day, of recovering from addiction and having a purpose.

With that, I’ll sashay out of here.

Mark

Check out the original post here.

***

This week, People’s District will tell a series of stories from D.C.’s LGBT community in honor of Capital Pride. These stories were collected in collaboration with the Rainbow History Project.

“I have always felt like a woman. I can remember the times when my father would buy me baseballs, footballs, and all of these manly things as a child, but I would always just play with my sisters dolls and dress in their clothes. That was what made me comfortable. I never thought that anything was wrong with it because I felt that I was supposed to be a woman. While I was comfortable with it, my parents struggled with it at first. It was hard on my them, but my mother sheltered me and let me know it was okay.

“People used to ask me why I chose that life, as if it were a choice. People would tell me, ‘You could have been a gay man and been more successful in life.’ My issue is that I am not a man. I have always felt comfortable in my current shell as a woman. I learned to be proud and comfortable from my mentor, Tina Teasley. She was a few years older than me and was instrumental in my life and my transition. Tina was an amazing role model and showed me that you could be transgender and successful.

“Thanks, in part, to her, I started taking hormones at 17 and then got my breasts. After that, it was all about being a woman at all costs. I would save my money for the operations and back then, all of us girls, would go to the same doctor in NE. Now that I am older, I like to say that I live a normal life. This is me.

“I feel fortunate that I did not go through a lot of the struggles that many in the transgender community have gone through in this city. I had a job and health care and could take care of myself. Of course, I had a lot of other difficulties in my life, but I overcame them. As I started to hear about the serious issues facing the transgender community in DC, I thought, girl, what is going on with this city. I was so out of it, doing my own thing and living my own life that I forgot about the other people like myself who were not as fortunate.

“In 2003, I got involved and helped to start Transgender Health Empowerment. We got a small grant from the city and grew from there. We wanted to make sure that people knew about the ‘T’ in LGBT. We worked hard to get us a seat at the table with the LGBT community and the city. I look back and think that it is so remarkable how much we have grown. We have really made waves, in a positive way. It was not all peaches and cream, but we have made progress in terms of getting the transgender population access to healthcare and giving them a seat at the table. Still, there are some barriers to education, housing, and employment in order for us to get where we need to be.

“After working full-time on my job, working to grow Transgender Health Empowerment, and being involved on committees for the city, I made a decision to step down as Chairman of the Board of Directors in September of last year. Transgender Health Empowerment had grown to the point where I felt comfortable moving and shifting priorities. I had spent so much time with Transgender Health Empowerment that I needed to focus on myself and figure out what I was going to do with my life. With all of my work, I forgot about myself.

“Now, I want to travel, enjoy life, and be open to what comes my way. My next cause may be more transgender empowerment, but it could also not be an LGBT issue. I just know that one day I am going to get a call from someone who needs help and wants to get something moving. I am the kind of person who can’t say not to that.”

Check out the original post here.

***

This week, People’s District will tell a series of stories from D.C.’s LGBT community in honor of Capital Pride. These stories were collected in collaboration with the Rainbow History Project.

“I like to say that I am nerd by day and a DJ by night. After finishing my doctorate in Baltimore, I moved to D.C. to run a clinic at one of the local hospitals. At work, I do a lot of education for my patients to help them understand how to make medications work best for them. Sometimes that includes adjusting people’s lifestyle or changing dosage based on how many medications a patient may be taking. I love my job because you can really improve somebody’s quality of life through education.

“I have always felt like music has a way of impacting people, too. Growing up as a rebellious, skateboarding tomboy in Richmond, Virginia, I thought about being a DJ because I love music. When I moved to D.C., I decided to pursue that love. I came here in 2005 and the city welcomed me with open arms, but it was very different from Richmond. There, the gay scene was so small and integrated. Everyone knew each other and hung out together. I initially didn’t findthat here and wanted more diversity in the scene.

“I naively thought that because we were all gay, everyone would get along and hang out together. I saw that many people hung out in their own crowds, or cliques. One of the reasons that I actually went out and bought the equipment was to see if I could use DJing and different styles of music and parties to integrate people in this city. I had my first party at Jimmy Valentine’s in September 2009 and things have been on the up-and-up since then. Now, I play all over town and like to use my parties as an opportunity to draw a diverse group of gay and straight, men and women, and people of all kinds and colors.

“To me, the diversity is so important because I grew up in a very traditional Vietnamese home. I had a long progression into my sexuality and it was such a struggle for me. My parents used to tell me that there was no such thing as a gay lifestyle in Vietnam. Until I finished grad school, I still wanted the traditional idea of finding a husband and starting a family. But, something was missing there. I could not quite pin point it, but deep down inside I knew I was a lesbian. I came out to my parents at 30. It was tough. My mother cried.

“Now, after a few years, we are in a good place and they know that it is not a choice, but a lifestyle. We talk about everything, including my relationships. My parents are really supportive, even if every once in a while their relationship advice after a breakup is to say, ‘Well, maybe you should try guys again.’ I can’t blame them, they are trying their best. These days, though, it has become an ongoing joke that we laugh at when brought up…now seldom. Nowadays, they only want me to be happy.”

Annie Nguyen aka dj vANNIEty Kills played the Scissor Sisters’ after-party at U St. Music Hall on Wednesday, June 8th. You can see her DJ schedule here. Listen to her minHousin’ mix.

Check out the original post here.

***

This week, People’s District will tell a series of stories from D.C.’s LGBT community in honor of Capital Pride. These stories were collected in collaboration with the Rainbow History Project.

“My parents moved to this country so that me and my brother could go to college. They could have retired with a cushy life in India, but they came here with us and started over. My Mom worked as a janitor in a high school and a cashier at 7-11. My father also worked as a cashier after working in the army as a civilian foreman in India. My parents are an amazing testament to what parents will sacrifice for their children.

“I came here at 17 and this country offered me so many incredible opportunities. This country allowed me to be well educated, to pursue my love of dance, and to realize and appreciate that I am gay. Had I stayed in India, I likely would not have been able to pursue those things.

“In India, I went to a fundamentalist Christian school all of my life where we never talked about sex ever…I mean, ever. I didn’t even know what the word gay was in India. It was a surprise for me when I came to U.S. and found that I was attracted to men. In India, heterosexuality was the only sexuality I knew of. At first, I thought I could pray myself straight. Then, over years of personal reflection in my twenties, and finally my introduction to critical theory and women’s studies, I became more open to my sexuality.

“I didn’t come out until my 20′s and it was not an easy topic for my family, especially for my mother. She didn’t even know what the word gay meant. I had to both come out and explain what gay means. Unfortunately, my sister and brother were not very supportive. They couldn’t deal with it and wanted me to go to therapy or pray. While I needed them to help and support my mother, they chose not to. Because of that, I lost touch with my brother and sister 13 years ago.

“I speak openly of my hardships because I know that there are others who struggle with these issues. My mother eventually came around. For someone who lived in a country with no open discussion of sex or homosexuality, she fully accepts me. It is hard for her as she is not sure how to reconcile me with her Christian belief that I am going to Hell, but she loves me. I only wish that my father had still been alive for me to tell him, too. I don’t know if he would have reacted differently than everyone else, but I wanted him to know me fully as I really am.

“I thank this country for making me feel like a whole person. I think that all of these challenges made me who I am today and help me explore my love of dance. I grew up in Chennai, which is a very culturally rich city, but to pursue the arts and dance are a luxury and very exclusive. Here, I was able to study dance in college and have pursued it ever since, all while working full-time.

“In 2003, I formed my dance company, Dakshina, to focus on a combination of classical Indian dance, modern dance, and club dancing. I like to use my pieces to explore concepts of social justice, sexuality, and cross-cultural issues. I think that this is a very open minded city where people are eager to be challenged with the arts. I only hope that the government can change the situation in D.C. to make it easier for artists. The budgets are being cut immensely, and yet many people here still view art as something that should be provided for everyone. I believe that it should be. We, in the arts community, just need the support to continue doing it.”

Dakshina/Daniel Phoenix Singh Dance Company is an emerging dance company that performs and presents Indian dance forms, such as Bharata Natyam, and Modern dance, mirroring the multiple identities of second generation South Asians. The company combines the arts with social justice issues both by incorporating the themes into our work and via partnerships with local community centers and schools. You can subscribe to their email list by emailing info@dakshina.org, or follow them on Facebook or Twitter.

Check out the original post here.

***

This week, People’s District will tell a series of stories from D.C.’s LGBT community in honor of Capital Pride. These stories were collected in collaboration with the Rainbow History Project.

“When people heard I wanted to study Chinese, they thought, man, this brother has gone off the deep end! This was around the time of Nixon going to China. I use that as a reference point, but the idea came to me through meditation. I was envisioned to study Chinese.

“At the time, I had been working as a sub-contractor for the IRS as a court stenographer. All of trappings of success were there, but I still felt very hollow. While I was working, I was not working towards anything that I could be proud of.

“I traveled throughout the D.C. area in search of a Chinese program. I remember going to George Washington University where they looked at me, not using these words, but implying, ‘Nigger, why do you want to study Chinese?’ I knew that was not the place for me. Then, I went to Georgetown and met the now deceased, Dr. Lee, who encouraged me to study there and helped to get me a full fellowship as a community scholar.

“Nine months later, I was studying Chinese at Beijing University. It was through my interactions with some Uyghurs there that I was introduced to Islam. I knew about the Nation of Islam and Wahhabism out of Saudi Arabia, but they introduced me to an Islam that I could connect with. We went to Masjid together and spent hours talking about the Koran. There I was, a black, gay man from urban Washington, D.C. in China getting introduced to Islam in 1983.

“From China, I went off to study and work in Egypt, Jordan, Syria and Saudi Arabia and pursued my studies in Islam and Islamic Law. Travelling and speaking other languages is such a powerful experience. Between Arabic, Chinese, and English, I realized that I could talk to 4/5ths of the world’s population. That is an amazing revelation. I wanted to use my studies and ability to communicate with so many to help push the limitations on acceptance in our community. My mentor struggled to bring equality to women in Islam. What he did for women, I am trying to do for the queer community.

“It has been a hard battle, but a good battle. In the beginning, there was a lot of name calling. I never responded to it because by answering, they have you. Rather, I would always challenge their assumptions and presumptions. I want to show people that the Koran is not two dimensional. It is not just ink on a page. If you only read something in a limited way, you limit your possibilities.

“Over the last 12 years, I have worked to pursue the idea that if God speaks, and I believe he does, he speaks to all of us. If you can’t see how women or queer people are equal than you are using a human interpretation of the Koran and not God’s words. A mosque should be a place for everybody. Through my practice, I want people in my community to understand how big and inclusive our world really is.”

Imam Daayiee Abdullah is a scholar, a former public interest lawyer, and a specialist in Shari’ah Sceinces/Quranic Interpretation. He frequently lectures internationally on progressive Muslim concepts, interfaith networking, and the development of inclusive revisions of Islamic theological thought and interpretations of Shari’ah. Daayiee has also long been invovled in actively promoting understanding and awareness of issues of racial, sexual and gender equality both within and beyond Muslim communities. He is Imam of the The Light of Reformation Mosque (Masjid An-Nural Isslaah) that is gender equal, queer friendly, intrafaith welcoming and interfaith active. He is also affiliated with the California-based Muslims for Progressive Values.

c. speakeasydc.com

Last night, I attended my first D.C. Pride event and I am completely sold.  Woolly Mammoth Theatre Company presented SpeakeasyDC’s production of “Don’t Ask, Do Tell: stories about coming out, coming clean, or just plain coming.” SpeakeasyDC puts on a great show: bluntly honest, hysterical, and heartfelt.   This production not only exceeded expectations, but it brought something else to the evening as well: non-judgmental Pride.

MC and Co-Director, John Kevin Boggs, made it clear from the start that this show was about Pride.  He stated the stories were all as unique, diverse, and complex as the storytellers sharing with the audience.  And the show certainly proved that: as each speaker took the stage, it was clear that each person was proud to take a stand to unabashedly share his or her personal experience.

As the audience applauded each person off stage, I though to myself, “man, I feel bad for the next one who has to follow that act”—but each individual took the stage with confidence and excelled.  I began to see a pattern in the stories: each storyteller willingly stood alone on stage to share an anecdote of there life, expressing who they truly were and have become, and each moment was welcomed in a safe environment.   Everyone had managed to get through whatever events, good or bad, life had handed them, coming out on the other end, not unscathed, but a different, individual, and unique person.

The stories shared were unique, ranging from explicit sex scenes, to hilarious anecdotes, to sharing real emotional trauma. Without giving too much away, stories ranged from: overcoming a language barrier for a sexual encounter; coming out as the first transgender college athlete on national television; a personal journey from an advocacy position as a “straight spokesperson for gay families” to embracing being a lesbian; and a story of dancing shamelessly at high school senior prom with the person you love, despite the family effort to “fight the gay.”

At intermission, when I had a chance to sit back and absorb the atmosphere, I realized not only the performers were welcome and accepting, but the audience was completely open and happy as well.  (And, yes, at the risk of being cliché, Lady Gaga was playing over the loudspeakers at this point.)  And as I attempted to decipher the sentiment behind this overwhelming vibe I was feeling, I realized that it was completely non-judgmental.  Despite the judgment that was occurring within each story, at that moment, I felt the entire theatre offering a safe space of understanding to each instance of discrimination described.  A judgment-free space is an uncommon experience, as I constantly sense judgment coming from all sides in a city like Washington, D.C.  For the two and half hours of the show, I felt none of that—only empowerment and inspiration transcending from the stories to the audience.

In her story, Natalie Illum put the evening into perspective, describing a realization she had: that being queer isn’t always about who you love but about being comfortable in your own skin and helping other people to be comfortable with who you are.  She recounted a slogan she had used campaigning for an event: “We’re here, we’re queer, we’re fabulous, so don’t fuck with us.”

Submission by Gregory Wazowicz / Images by Guillermo Riveros. Crossposted from East Village Boys, with permission from author. View original post here.

Kurt Cobain was the first character in Guillermo’s At 27 series that I actually remembered dying. I was just eight years old at the time, when the concept of suicide was new and nearly impossible to digest. My brother, who I really looked up to and who really looked up to Kurt, came home from school with a joke the next day. What went through Kurt Cobain’s head when he killed himself? I didn’t know. I didn’t know what anyone would be thinking when they put a gun to their head. His teeth. I sat wondering why he’d gone about it that way, and pictured Kurt placing the barrel against his front incisors, blasting them into the grey matter of his temporal lobe. My brother had to explain the joke.

At Kurt’s memorial service, his second grade yearbook photo was handed out. He had the same blonde bowl cut I did then. In many ways, Kurt Cobain as a child was a lot like we were, drawing and singing, our bedrooms our studios. Being the gay kid in elementary school automatically made you the outsider. And although he only claimed to be “gay in spirit,” Kurt liked that the other kids thought he was gay because it meant they left him alone. His father insisted he join the wrestling team, and while he was skilled at the sport, Kurt would allow himself to be pinned every time. When his father moved on to Little League Baseball, Kurt intentionally struck out just to avoid playing. I spent my first Little League game hiding in the bathroom with my own father, who never pushed sports on me again. But he did build a tiny ice skating rink in our driveway the following winter, using a tarp and the garden hose.

Back when he was just another gay eight-year-old with a bowl cut, Guillermo moved to Bogotá with his family from the more turbulent Medellín. On the Colombian playground, a boy’s masculinity was measured by his aptitude for soccer, which Guillermo wanted nothing to do with. Shunned by the other boys, Guillermo spent recess in the library drawing and reading. Like me, he didn’t exactly know what “gay” meant, but knew it set him apart from everyone else, in a way no kid would want to be. Parents and teachers grew concerned once little Guillermo started talking about transvestites and Satan.

It didn’t help that Guillermo’s gym class was segregated by gender. There was no way I would have gotten through it not having goth girls with thyroid conditions around to pretend to play badminton with. But at my elementary school, the playground was divided into a girls’ side and a boys’ side for as long as anyone could remember. Throughout the years, my best girl friends and I teetered a white line painted on the concrete, trading the contents of our My Little Pony lunchboxes and talking about TV shows we weren’t supposed to watch, while boys played basketball far behind me and girls hopscotched even further away. It wasn’t so long after Kurt Cobain killed himself that Robert Morris Elementary finally threw out the rule, and I was free to Double Dutch while little dykes-in-training took over the basketball court.
Kurt Cobain was a vocal opponent of homophobia, and resented Nirvana fans that refused to acknowledge the band’s political views. The liner notes from Incesticide declared — “if any of you in any way hate homosexuals… don’t come to our shows and don’t buy our records.” But kids in Nirvana shirts still wrote “fage” in all my R. L. Stine books, and yelled “I smell fruit!” each time I walked up the street from school. Even my brother and his friends, while they plucked the chords from ‘Smells Like Teen Spirit,’ still seemed to think “gay” was just a fun way to describe something awful.

I don’t know what went through Kurt Cobain’s head when he killed himself, but I know the overwhelming anger one can feel at the world’s betrayals. It can bring the greatest poet to stick her head in an oven, cause a college freshman to jump off the George Washington Bridge, cut short all the lives for whom it never got better. More than a decade after his death, Kurt’s hometown in Washington put up a sign that read “Welcome to Aberdeen — Come As You Are”. Exactly what my badminton partner and I would have told him.

EuroPride, Warsaw. Credit: P. Artyfikiewicz

The arrival of the gay pride season in the US often brings out diverse reactions in the gay community, ranging from eager anticipation to disinterest, ambivalence, and even disdain.  The reasons cited for waning enthusiasm for gay pride among many queers, particularly the younger ones, are numerous: it’s too commercial, it’s too narrow and homogenous in it’s presentation of what “gay” is, it’s too much about desire (consumerist and sexual) and not enough about community or activism or culture.

My own views on Pride have wavered between curiosity and indifference.  But it wasn’t until I participated in the EuroPride parade and events of Warsaw that I actually felt solidarity with the gay community, and well, PRIDE!

Strongly Catholic, Poland is not a usual place to be associated with open and progressive views towards homosexuals.  Yet when Warsaw hosted the EuroPride festivities in July of 2010, it proved to be a shining example for other countries on how to throw a gay pride, managing a tricky balancing act between meaningful political and cultural events with plain ol’ fun, all while dutifully protecting participants from belligerent right-wingers.

EuroPride Warsaw parade. Credit: D. Zrenchny

EuroPride is a pan-European Pride event held in a different city in Europe each year.  EuroPride Warsaw had many of the typical elements of any gay pride festivity: the rainbow flags, the flamboyance, the colorful signs, the shirtless torsos gyrating to club music blasting from floats.  Even the “Dykes on Bikes” lead the parade as is tradition elsewhere.  But this parade had more in common with the early pride marches than with their modern day descendants in many North American and Western European cities.  As with the original gay pride parades, which took place in US cities in the wake of the Stonewall riots of 1969, Warsaw’s pride was a mixture of serious and fun infused with a defiant activist spirit.   And in addition to the parade there was a plethora of panels, parties, exhibits, political and cultural events all around the city that hot week in July.  An historic and sizable exhibit, titled Ars Homo Erotica, was held at Warsaw’s National Museum.  There was walking tour of Jewish Warsaw, drawing on the historical commonalities as well as the striking differences between the plight of Polish Jews and Polish queers and ended with an outdoor Shabbat dinner at the Pride House Nowy Wspaniały Świat.  There were talks with activists and politicians from Poland, from around Europe and beyond speaking on various developments and issues in gay rights.  Films were screened, dance parties were thrown, and special exhibits were put up, all within central and very visible locations in the downtown.

At Pride House dance party, Warsaw. Credit: Paulina Olszanka.

Of course, as in other countries, not all Polish queers were keen on the planned EuroPride activities.  The Editors of DIK Fagazine (a no-frills, bilingual Polish and English-language magazine devoted to art and men) put on an alternative event that coincided with but was not part of EuroPride.  The event, called Ganc Pomada, hosted mainly in an old industrial building (complete with dimly lit courtyard), full of art and video installations, live performances, food, several rooms with international DJs playing many genres  (rock, electro, in Polish, English, French, you name it) populated by beautiful non-conformists of many nations, could easily compete with parties in Brooklyn or Berlin.  Though there are exceptions in some cities, most gay pride festivities seldom have such varied and non-commercialized options for people not into the “mainstream” gay culture.

EuroPride Warsaw also aimed to be more than just a parade.  It created a temporary community center called Pride House in a trendy and very central café in downtown Warsaw that provided information for locals and visitors alike.  Their guidebooks contained agendas, maps, and also phrases in Polish for international visitors to use during their visit.  The center hosted events day and night, talks on politics, music nights, and provided lots of visibility for EuroPride, giving the event a sense of presence and belonging to the fabric of the city.  And for many Poles not into marches, Pride House provided a more tranquil forum to partake in the festivities.

EuroPride Warsaw, on the march. Credit: M. Gondek.

But back to the parade.  That it even took place was in itself of historic significance.  Though pride parades had been going on there without much fanfare since 2001, the previous conservative government of Poland started banning such marches.  The paraders marched with an uncertainly of what would meet them; at the very least unkind words and gestures from onlookers, at worst, violence.  Rumors spread that anti-gay marchers would be waiting, and hateful shouts and signs were heard from small groups of neo-nazis close to the parade start (which, thankfully, the police did an excellent job of protecting the paraders from).  Marching felt like an act of defiance to homophobia, not just in Poland, but worldwide.  It was a reclamation of one of the original intents of pride parades: to take our rightful place on the streets without hiding.  The feeling was empowering, and it was easy to feel a sense of solidarity with everyone present.  And the Poles I met were genuinely excited for such a large international presence among the marchers.  Greg Czarnecki, board member of KPH (Campaign Against Homophobia), hopes that the event dispelled some popular myths about Poland when it comes to LGBT concerns.  “That Poland is all homophobes is a common assertion in other parts of Europe”, say Czarnecki.  “Though there is much work to be done to overcome hurdles for the community, the fact is that the situation is not as simple or one-dimensional as the stereotypes imply.”

In fact, most of the spectators looked on with mild curiosity, if not open and warm support.  Some people waved from balconies above and danced to the music of the floats.  This was Poland turning a new leaf, and it felt historic to be a part of it.  Many people who came from abroad (I met Aussies, Israelis, Swedes, Spaniards, Belgians, and even other Americans) expressed the same sentiments: that this was a Pride the way it ought to be…and used to be.

­­Often, change starts small – with no epic triumph of good whereby evil and hatred is forever banished from the kingdom in one shot.

­­­­­­

Most of us know first hand what it feels like to be misunderstood and have our very being questioned. We understand the pain of being stereotyped and not be seen as real people that we are. It makes us a little more amenable to listen – even to our detractors. Perhaps, we hope they will return the favor. Maybe, we understand change slips in slow and unnoticed.

We are aware that not every one is intolerant; many believe in God as well as our right to lead happy lives as equals. Once we realize that good and bad are not always that easily distinguished, we wonder – how do we fight for ourselves in the changing scenario and till when? Our fears are valid until what point and when do our problems become comparable to heterosexual statistics? We, as individuals and a community, think about what is ‘too gay-centric’, ‘too aggressive’ or plain and simple ‘trouble making’. Remember when ‘feminist’ was an extremist slur rather than an acknowledgement of principles and beliefs of the person?

Soon, we get comfortable in our skins and carry on with building our lives like grown ups. Because we know how difficult it is to convince people on something contrary to how they feel.

Then, there is another news flash – one for the scores of familiar but untold painful stories. We are left reminding ourselves that things are indeed changing even as a familiar sense of helplessness settles in.

The change feels too little and too slow. Tired of pushing against a wall, we want to run from that which is perceived as a circus of constant arguments – much like a yo-yo without an end in sight. It hurts to think of the screaming banshees and haters. Our stomachs turn at the very idea of more conflict and confrontation. It feels like anything we do ends up being about taking sides.

But the soul rebels against being pushed deeper into the closet – to the edge of sanity. We think about how we had to scrounge for that one hint, one validation in small, obscure towns – that we are neither alone nor abnormal. We remember needing to know that things would be better than we imagined and less scary than we feared. Then, we decide we are not giving in and start all over again.

Freedom of expression is not just about democracies, fighting oppression or corruption. It is living everyday life – when we roll our eyes, stand silently in solidarity or hoist a flag in the front yard. Instinct and love transforms into a statement when you hold hands with your partner in public. Notice how society, too, expresses an attitude of acceptance or intolerance on a daily basis, without using any words.

Remember the French and Russian revolutions that changed the course of the modern world in the nineteenth century? People derived hope, inspiration and courage from one another across borders and divisions. They listened, read and shared any news of change, a better life and the ways it could be achieved.

Most of us may not be speakers or fighters. But by exercising our right of expression in the smallest of ways, we change the world.

I have surfed the net, read books in secret and rejoiced in that one story of the forbidden love. I am grateful for conversations that made me realize some people are more accepting than I gave them credit for. I am interested in LGBT community of every nation, their lives – their specific joys and fears. Because it affects me!

Remember reading the marriage announcements of same sex couples and feeling giddy with joy? Remember the stupid smile spreading on your face when you spotted the rainbow sticker on the bumper of the car ahead? Remember the time when a nameless someone became a friend even for a second – just as humans and it felt great?

There are big fights to fight but small things count too – when you are looking for acceptance from loved ones, from society and yourself.

Someone was that ‘positive’ for you; in the way they spoke to you, treated you or cared about an issue close to your heart. Unknowingly, you may already be that special someone for another person. You are their ‘positive’.

Communicate, share, participate, volunteer, speak up – Exercise that right. Even if some think that you are being too loud. You don’t have to shout from the roof tops, endanger yourself or put your job at risk. You do not even have to be gay – you just want a more open, loving and harmonious world.

Live your life and remember to be the best you can be – as a friend, a parent, a child, a neighbor, a lover. Be human. Love yourself and take care of yourself. So many people are an inspiration just because they lead happy, fulfilling lives. Because then, we know it is possible and within reach. By being us, we express ourselves for change.

We have a right to get out and mingle without fear. We have a right to fall in love and not have to hide it. We have a right to not worry about a slip of tongue screwing up our lives, jobs or hurting our loved ones. We have a right to be.

Reach out in any way you can to pay forward the kindness and courage of those who helped you and to create bridges to a better life for those on a tumultuous journey. Whatever we do and say in our daily lives – it can not be excessive; especially when it is a smile or a word that can save a life.

Express yourself and your pride!

c. Shando Davis, TNG Flickr

Submission by Asad Rahim, TNG reader and first-time contributor

Dear Asad,

At this point in your journey you think the hardest part about being a gay kid in an exclusively straight environment is that you don’t have a template to model your life after. There is no one to show you what you can hope for or what you should steer away from. No one to take you by the hand and assure you that everything will turn out fine. Blind and unguided, you’re left to fend for yourself, to piece together a good life when you have no idea what a good life is supposed to be for a gay black man.

As you grow older you’ll realize that what you once thought of as a burden is actually a godsend. Unconstrained by others’ definition of normalcy, you’ll be able to live your life on your own terms. No one will pressure you to have a kid or get married. You won’t be caged in by dominant beliefs about what role you should play in your relationships. And rigid definitions of masculinity won’t compel you to mask your emotions, interests and desires.

Blessed with a blank canvas, you’ll have all the space you need to paint a picture that will be beautiful enough for an audience of one and praised by the only critic that ever mattered—you.

Given that freedom, you owe it to yourself to revel in the outer realms of possibility. Allow yourself to embrace the contradiction inherent in you. Be the black-power-shouting, white-boyfriend-having, gospel-loving Muslim that you are. Until you’re not. Then be whoever that person is. Don’t worry if you don’t make sense to anyone else. As long as you make sense to you.

And that’s the great thing about coming out. Once you build up enough courage to live your truth, you’ll stop caring what other people think. The whole shuck and jive to win external validation will just seem silly. You’ll learn to do as you please, and do it with ease.

It’s true: life is much better outside the closet. But I don’t want you to think that it will be a crystal stair. Navigating gay life can be a pretty harrowing experience. The constant performance that closeted gay men must put on coupled with the stigma attached with defying social norms will leave many of your peers psychologically wounded, and those wounds will still be fresh long after they’ve come out of the closet. So be careful about who you give yourself to—for too many people won’t what know they have.

Don’t let a chiseled jaw and a few muscles blur your ability to discern a person’s character. Anyone can live in the gym and binge on creatine, but you’ll be surprised by how few good people are out there — people who are compassionate and funny — who awe you with their intelligence and see the very best in you even when you’re at your worst.

I know, I know — you’re not trying to hear all this right now: you’re too fixated on snagging yourself a cutie with a booty. But if for a moment you allow yourself to have what you need instead of focusing on what you want, you’ll find that getting what you need is much more satisfying than anything you could’ve ever wanted.

Finally, know that being gay does not have to be “your thing.” Who you sleep with is only a big deal because you live in a heteronormative society that deems it as such. Be sure not to conflate what other people find interesting about you with what you find interesting about yourself. Embrace your sexuality, but don’t be held hostage by it. It’s silly to force connections with people just because you happen to sleep with the same sex or to take on a cause that is not dear to you because it’s the gay issue of the moment. Clear out enough space to grow independent of any label that purports to define you.

Yesterday you woke up in a cold sweat. Overwhelmed with fear—afraid of yourself and for yourself. Not knowing how that self was going to survive in a world so hostile to its existence. Tomorrow you’ll push through those anxieties and find the courage to chase your happiness. Free to pursue your joy without being disoriented by someone else’s map, you’ll find that the happiness that you’ve always longed for was never as far away as it seemed.

With love for all that you are and excitement for all that you will become,

Asad

I came out in Milwaukee, which has a LGBTQ scene stronger and more fabulous than you can imagine!  While most cities have a Pride Parade on one day and then maybe some small, local events, Milwaukee has PrideFest. The festival grounds, for three days, become an island of Pride and it can be difficult to believe that the world outside exists. Many people throughout the entire state of Wisconsin trek down for at least one day, then return to their less fabulous neighborhoods.  Milwaukee LGBT organizations plan for months just for Pride.

Milwaukee PrideFest is an extreme example, but the communal eagerness for Pride Month in June can be palpable in many areas. Chicago has many outlandishly queer neighborhoods, but even they pale in comparison to Pride events.  It’s the time of year, for many people, when they can celebrate a very important part of themselves.

Pride Month is fast approaching and will end unexpectedly quickly. While looking ahead to it though, we can all work and party, of course, to bring out the Pride in our everyday lives.

When I was ten, Tanya Nelson repeatedly tortured me by jabbing me with a compass. She sat behind me and constantly tormented me along with others for being a sissy. I took the abuse. I learned to tolerate it and even enjoyed figuring out ways to endure the humiliation.

I decided that she, like my family of origin and everyone else who did so much harm to a young, precocious child was not going break me. I decided that I would win. My mother refused to take my pleas seriously and I never talked to my dad about anything.

I share this story because it all came flooding back to me today when I started having some modicum of gaining employment after eighteen months of unemployment. Lately, I have had to really look at all that I endured and survived on my way to full adulthood.

I would love to have spoken with any of those young people who took their own lives and said, “Why do you think this is the only option?” If you really wanna screw with ‘em , tell ‘em to fuck off and truly develop your gifts and become madly successful. I would have reminded them the things that people are so bloody worked up about make them unique. I would have shared my story and said, “I made it. Let me show you how to make it.” I would have also pointed out that if they’ve gotten to the teen years and if they can get through them they can absolutely do anything. I would share my new favorite quote.

In the absolutely adorable, heart warming, humanistic series, ‘The Number One Ladies’ Detective Agency, the heroine Precious states : Like my father, I am made of strong stuff. This is what we must remind our children of. They have all of this incredible stuff inside. The ooey gooey center that everyone hates and yet so desperately needs is what’s required to conquer the world and ourselves.

The strong stuff that Precious speaks of is in any and all of us who have had to survive and hatch fail safe plans that would ensure we live to fight another day. The fight is an internal one. We old folk have no business leading the next generation into battle then walking away. There is as a need for assurance and support until there isn’t.

It is difficult to keep our greatness at the forefront of our program when so much around us tells us who we are and should be. Like fussy, spoiled children we must stomp and rage to get what we want and not settle. We must remind ourselves of our own inherent goodness. We must remind ourselves of our greatness even when it feels forced or fake and there is no one to concur with. It is our job to develop the core of our youth to such an extent that it doesn’t matter who is around or where we are, we know who we are and what we have to offer our communities and the world. Forgetting that our greatness lies in our humanity and abilities to connect is a very systematic and seductive proposition. To go unfazed and distraction free, we must remember our “strong stuff” .

Yes, it’s wonderful that everyone from Barack Obama and Hillary Clinton to Vinny from the Jersey Shore and the Sassy Gay Friend have taken the time to record their little YouTube pep talks as part of Dan Savage’s “It Gets Better” project. Watching the sitting President of the United States encourage a young gay viewer at home to keep his chin up and remember that “there’s a whole world waiting for” him once he leaves his hellishly small-minded high school is indeed nothing short of remarkable. If one of these It Gets Better videos has saved just one suicidal kid with the promise of a better tomorrow, then Savage’s project has surely achieved its goal of getting GLBTQ youth to stop writing their suicide notes and start working on their college application essays.

For all the good it’s done, however, I worry that the It Gets Better project is but a salve for troubled teens enduring daily harassment at the hands of their peers. We’re telling these kids that things will get better, but as hopeful as that message is, it does nothing to address the bullying of which these kids are the victims today and will surely be the victims of tomorrow. It’s easy to speak from a place of relative privilege about all the potential a suicidal teen has to realize something great in the world. But it’s far more difficult to make these kids’ lives better now. Not next year, not in college, but right now, in between fifth and sixth period, when Jack the gay high school sophomore once again has to walk past the boys’ locker room–where the meanest jocks hang out between classes. Once again, Jack will keep his head down and try to walk by unnoticed; and once again, one of the bullies will manage to throw a couple “Hey faggot” shouts his way.

Don’t worry, Jack. Even though you might feel humiliated in front of your classmates, weak for not having the nerve to insult the bully back, and vulnerable because none of your friends are around to stick up for you; even though you’ve probably endured taunts and threats far worse than this, ever since the bigger kids noticed your lisp in sixth grade and haven’t let you forget it since; and even though your mom has called the principal’s office repeatedly, trying to at least get some acknowledgment from her office that this bullying exists and goes unchecked daily through the quads and corridors of Jack’s school; even though all these things have become a daily part of Jack’s already-stressful life, well, it’ll get better, little man.

You might have to wait it out a few more years–in the meantime, maybe try for the umpteenth time to get that Gay-Straight Alliance approved by the school administration so that you’d have at least one safe place of refuge in the building–but trust me dude, once you get outta here, a whole world will open up to you. And if you can’t get the GSA up and running by the time you graduate, you can always hand the reins off to Chris and Amanda, two gay seventh graders who have been dealing with the same bullshit you had to endure. They’ll be entering the high school right as you’re leaving. Stop looking back, Jack! Things are about to get so much better for you. Don’t worry; things will get better for Chris and Amanda too. Eventually. There’s a whole world waiting for them too, and it can wait a little longer.

The It Gets Better project promises a better, more accepting life for gay and questioning young people. But doesn’t it therefore tacitly admit that things can’t get better now? It’s like we’ve decided that American public schools are a lost cause for GLBT tolerance, so now we have to divert bullying victims’ attention toward the vague promise of a “better” future. Is this satisfactory to you?

To me, this feels like an abandonment of the very youth we’re trying to save. Efforts to increase tolerance and acceptance of the different kids–the gay kids, the black kids, the Hispanic kids, the Muslim girl who wears a burqa to class, the fat kid, and the doofus with undiagnosed autism–is an uphill battle, to say the least. It’s a problem that can’t be solved with a ten-minute YouTube video or a pride rally. It involves not just the students themselves but also their parents, their teachers, and everyone else who has a stake in the school community. Big, scary, abstract ideas come into play when we think about ways to make our public schools safer for gay students: ideas like “the spectre of the fag,” to borrow a quote by C.J. Pascoe, that drives so much of teenage masculinity; ideas that involve the casual misogyny guys have for girls in high school, and how that misogyny translates into hostility toward gay young men; ideas on how to get kids to stop using “gay” as an insult, or maybe some discussion as to whether “That’s so gay” has retained any homosexual connotations for the young people saying it.

It’s a lot of things, really–too much for any one person or video campaign to address. Working to make schools safer and more tolerant environments for everybody is an arduous and intangible effort, the consequences of which may not be visible until months or even years have passed.

I hear some people say that bullying’s a part of high school for every student; it sucks, but it gives you a thick skin and prepares you for the real world. These people complain that efforts to increase tolerance in high schools serves to coddle the victims of bullying. They worry that instead of learning how to take insults in stride and perhaps even fight back, we’re just turning everybody into self-esteem robots incapable of the petty prejudices that make up “the high school experience.”

To which I say: of course not. Assholes will always be assholes, no many how sensitivity seminars you make them attend. There will always be the kids that bully and, yes, there will always be a group that’s the recipient of those bullies’ hostility. Teenagers are cruel, capricious people, prone to shouting matches and bursts of tears at a moment’s notice. But if we can work to create a school environment where bullies aren’t making fun of other kids because of their sexual orientation (or their race, or their religion, etc.) but instead because that bully’s just a jerk, well, shit happens. But that’s the sort of progress we need now, so that future generations of GLBTQ students don’t need to be told that “it gets better.” My hope is that things will be just fine for them already.

Thousands take part in New Delhi's gay pride parade (AP Photo)

Last week an article was released on the socialistworker.org recounting the experience of two study abroad students who were involved in two LGBTQ protests in Trinidad and Tobago, a country that still maintains anti-sodomy laws.  No matter your opinion on Socialism/Socialist sources of news, or your general political views for that matter, this article was an informative, unique look into yet another example of a possible growing LGBTQ Movement abroad.

In response to the week long visit of American Pastor Phillip Lee, whose group is partially funded by the infamous U.S. conservative group, Focus on the Family, students from the Trinidad and Tobago LGBT organization, The Coalition Advocating for the Inclusion of Sexual Orientation (CAISO) decided to plan a protest to counter “ex-gay” Pastor Lee’s seminar that is supposed to guide the “healing” of homosexuals with the Bible. Despite the generally highly secretive (due to existing stigma for being gay or queer) young LGBTQ community in Trinidad and Tobago, students still showed up, some acting or appearing with more caution than others. With only 35 people, Trinidad and Tobago saw the first ever LGBT protest in its history. The second protest drew nearly 120 young students.

The world also saw India and Nepal both celebrate their first ever gay pride parades this year. The first Indian gay pride parade was held in late-November after homosexuality was legalized in July. Back in August, Nepal also celebrated its first ever gay pride parade. As reported by The Advocate, “According to The Canadian Press, the celebration was led by Sunil Pant, a parliament member and the country’s most prominent gay activist.” Both India and Nepal’s first gay pride’s drew about 2,000 people.

It seems as though the potential for a new, energetic international LGBTQ movement is becoming more of a reality. While pride parades are most definitely not the cornerstone of a “movement” they undoubtedly break the silence, that more often than not, condemns so many of our brothers and sisters to death. More and more LGBTQ people (especially LGBTQ youth) are beginning to fight back, use their voice, and proclaim their identities and loved ones with pride even in the most unwelcoming environments. It is especially important for us to stand in solidarity with our LGBTQ brothers and sisters abroad when groups like Focus on the Family continue to send “ex-gay” experts in the name of the United States to countries like Trinidad and Tobago while also sponsoring anti-gay groups who are seeking to execute gay and queer people in Uganda. Although there is obviously much work to be done, unfortunately for Focus on the Family, it seems that all their work still cannot set us “straight.”

Although I love the concept of the “It gets Better “ campaign, I’m not sure that this is enough. While it is far more than the young gays of my generation received in terms of self esteem and a severe blow to isolation and angst-riddled days, the time for change is now. If you are in the throes of feeling alone and unsafe, no one really wants to hear that in five or ten years things will turn around and you will trump your tormentors with incredible success and world domination.

I work with high school students. They are challenging, brilliant and action oriented. They are every and all things except patient. Most of my students only understand the here and now. Discussing the future with distracted, peer influenced, hormonal, lovesick teens give me the insight regarding the effectiveness of trying to convince them that things will change. Like myself so many years ago, I was not interested in what the future held if I thought it would only be more of the same. Like myself, young people often find it difficult getting through the next five minutes. Being constantly and systematically tortured, individuals want relief now.

The young people who committed suicide were unable or unwilling to wait and see if it got better. There was little reason to look towards a brighter future when today, right now, was so incredibly painful. I was also sold a bill of goods about a magical land where hatred, stupidity and bigotry were not the norm. This magical land would be where I was accepted, understood and most of all loved and valued. I never got to that place. I went to college thinking I would enjoy brilliant minds who could engage and challenge me and not parrot convention regarding sexuality’s expression. Wrong. I moved to Boston, NYC, Japan and finally California (which is not the bastion of liberalism everyone swears it is but more on that later).

My point is that absolutely nothing got better, nothing changed,  until I got better and I changed. I sought out mentors and people who were free, brave, defiant and unapologetic. I learned to be afraid and take action anyway. I learned to not sit silently while incredible nonsense was spouted. In essence, I stopped waiting and fought like hell to commit to loving myself and creating brilliance in the present. I didn’t wait thinking some day these assholes would get it. Instead, I set about creating the best life I could possible create. It has not been easy and I have dated several sociopaths and intimate terrorists and yet I am proud of my commitment to myself.

Do we need the message of it gets better ?

Absofriggin’lutely.

Do we need to focus on what can be done right now to make it better wherever we are right now?

Absofriggin’lutely.

My plan is simple. I am developing  a mentoring program for gay youth, a blog which will allow thousands of young people to discuss what they need and to know they are not alone and plan on being the number one volunteer at the Trevor Project manning the suicide lines or scrubbing toilets if that’s what’s required. Let’s build our community wherever we are whenever we can. No more waiting. Do something now.

***

Currently, Anthony is developing a number of projects. In addition to teaching adult learners, he is putting the final touches on his new show, “The Other Larry King is Dead,” and considering the best spot to produce his one act play, “Anything But Me.” He is also organizing benefits for HIV/AIDS organizations while raising money to study at a Shakespeare Conservatory in Oxford next summer. Check out his blog at eatingtrouble.blogspot.com and catch his new web series “Poison into Medicine” when it premieres in January 2011.

The struggle for LGBTQ liberation continues and the mass of mainstream activists speak their ideas of the need to be equals, yet there is a different avenue. One that rejects the notion of equality in favor of liberation.One offers an avenue that is a dead end and one opens up the possibility to life.

Liberation is freedom from oppression and freedom from oppressing others. Liberation will be the time when queers are able to do just that: define themselves. There will be neither a negative nor positive inclination towards us, beside our existences. Our ability to be authentic humans, to live our lives as we see fit and as who we actually are: that is real liberation. This goal is not measurable but it should be our end goal nonetheless because it is where we truly want and need to be as a community.

Liberation is a step further than equality; it is reaching the point of freedom from oppression and oppressing. With liberation as a goal, our freedom will not come at the oppression of another oppressed community, but come from us as a community coming together and rebuilding.

Liberation has both a religious and revolutionary aspect to it, both of which I’m not referring to. Liberation in the religious sense is the concept that we need God to set us free, and that our liberation is not up to us to fight for and achieve, but only God can bestow it on us. Our liberation will only come from ourselves and our community regaining its authenticity and being rebuilt. The other use of the word liberation is a Marxist revolutionary ideal, of liberating all of humanity and such, but only through armed revolution. The idea that an armed revolution has solved anything and will solve anything is utterly outdated and naive. I offer this simple paraphrased saying from Albert Camus to all so called revolutionaries. Revolution is simply that, a revolution. You simply are going in a circle and will end up with the same evil you are trying to defeat.

If our sole goal is equality then we have fallen into the trap of attempting to be something we are not: heteronormative. We need to resist creating this false dichotomy of  “well if we are equal to them then they will no longer hate us.”

If all we want is to be is an equal to the hetronormative people of the world, what makes us who we are? If we fight for this ideal of equality then we are disenfranchising ourselves as a unique community that deserves to be respected and acknowledged. Do we want to be grey blobs that have no individuality? Is that what our historical place has been?

The fight for the repeal of DADT is a prime example of how us becoming equals in the end only leads to more oppression. Gaining the right to serve openly in the military can be defined as a good that will make us equals, since it’s ending a discriminatory practice against our community. Wrong: in the end it’s is not adding to our liberation. The right to fight in immoral and illegal wars in the Middle East does not add to our liberation. It may make us equals, but at the cost of the oppression and the lives of other queer people and other human beings.

The last thing about liberation that makes it the best avenue for our community is that it is something that only our community can give ourselves. It is not sanctioned by the state or by the church. It is our community rising up to fight for ourselves. It is queer people uniting and seeing that our liberation should not come at the oppression of others, but only through realizing what will allow us to be ore authentic in ourselves. So, my fellow, hopefully soon liberated, homos, are we ready to work for our liberation?

In a recent episode of Glee (if you’re not a fan of the show, plow on anyway, this reference is brief), a lumbering jock bullies Kurt, the only openly gay character in the show. When Kurt confronted him in private, the bully kisses him and runs off. Chances are that the message of this episode isn’t new to you: most violent homophobes are afraid of their own gayness and lash out to keep others from suspecting them. We’ve all seen this happen in politicians, religious leaders, and the homophobes in your own life.

Individual homophobes are usually pretty easy to figure out, particularly if you’re of the school of thought that most people are at least a little bisexual/pansexual. And when a small group of homophobes band together, they’re still rather transparent. Terrifying and even more difficult to turn over to the fabulous side, but transparent. And at least two of the people in the group probably have a steamy history anyway.

But then there are entire populations. Episcopalian bishop Gene Robinson is retiring as the stress of all the constant death threats on his and his family’s lives has become unbearable. I can’t blame him. A message or two is alarming though not hard to deal with, but thousands? Maybe all those individuals alone are lashing out because of what they fear in themselves, but they, together, have made a horrifying force. How can anyone tolerate that?

Uganda is among the countries that consider homosexuality a capitol offense and a Ugandan newspaper recently released the names of a hundred gay people. Violent homophobia on a national scale, gay genocide. I had the misfortune to see a video of a Ugandan “professor of homosexuality” lecture. The basic anatomy, stuff that you can check on your own body, that he taught was way off. Students, journalists and reporters still ate it up. Hatred on a national level involves poverty, miseducation, fear and propaganda.

From an individual to an entire nation, homophobia is still strong. Many people have claimed that, due to the recent increase in violence (or the increase in reporting on it), homophobia is in deathly throes. There is little comfort in that thought when a bishop must wear a bulletproof best beneath his consecration vestments. I wish I could come up with some kind of solution to homophobia, on any scale, but it’s beyond me. We must, above all, though, accept our differences and work together.

Those in Washington, D.C. please join us in observing Transgender Day of Remembrance on Thursday November 18th from 6:30 PM to 8:00 PM at the Metropolitan Community Church of Washington DC, 474 Ridge Street NW.

This past week communities across the country have observed Transgender Day of Remembrance.  The point of this day is to remember those whose light was extinguished for no other reason than that they had the courage to live their lives authentically. Their deaths were frequently long, painful, and extremely brutal. All because they had the courage to be themselves.

Often their deaths remain unsolved by the police either due to a lack of evidence or a lack of will. In the eyes of the law we are not seen as being human or deserving of justice.

And because we are not seen as being worth human dignity when these deaths are reported, if they are reported at all, they are frequently either purposefully mis-gendered or otherwise denied the same respect that would be given to a cis-gender death.

TDOR always weighs heavily on me, particularly as I  struggle to even write these words without being overcome with sorrow and rage. It reminds me that I am one of the lucky ones – that I was able to avoid their fate.

At the same time, their fate was never likely to be mine. On the one hand, at a point in my life I was nationally recognized in unarmed combat. On the other, and more pertinent hand, nearly all of these people were at the bottom of racialized and socio-economic hierarchies. I may not have much privilege in that regard but I have had enough to shield me from the worst of what the world has to offer.

All of the names this year (as well as most years) belong to people presenting, or being perceived as presenting, themselves as feminine. This in itself is indicative of a deeply engrained cultural misogyny.  The worst thing a man can be is a woman. Just ask young Roy Antonio Jones III. He was only 10 months old when his father beat him to death for acting like a girl.

In someways, this past year has been good if only because the carnage was considerably less than in 2008 – one of the deadliest years since they started keeping track. Still, one is too many.

This list of names which is at the same time so simple and poignant does not take into account the other kinds of violence we as people whole live beyond the gender binary must face on a daily basis.

It does not allow for all of the trans identified youth who contemplate suicide before they turn 18. Nor does it address those who will go through with it. I was 12 the first time I tried to kill myself. Eventually I got to the point where I could tie a noose in five seconds. I am one of the lucky ones.
It does not take into account the thousands of us who self-medicate ourselves into oblivion with drugs and alcohol.

The 24-year-old trans-woman, a personal friend of mine, who was beat within an inch of her life by three men with crowbars is also absent from this list. As are all of the rapes she experienced when she was living on the streets because her parents disowned her.
This list does not reveal the brutal rapes of trans-men by cis-men who feel their own shallow sense of masculinity challenged.

Nor does it acknowledge the trans-women in prison who are prostituted by the guards. Once they tire of her, she is then sold from one inmate to the next as a sex slave, with the names of her owners tattooed on her body so that everyone knows who she belongs to.

This list does not take into account the thousands of transgender people who are homeless and who are denied access to homeless shelters – solely because of their identity.

When we read these names of the fallen, we are the lucky ones. Think about their hopes, their dreams, the families left behind. Carry their stories with you. Remember their names.

_______________________________________________________

Brenda
Location: Rome, Italy
Cause of Death: Burned to death
Date of Death: November 20, 2009
Sources:http://www.adnkronos.com/AKI/English/Politics/?id=3.0.4019601050

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/europe/8370511.stm

http://www.adnkronos.com/AKI/English/Politics/?id=3.0.4019601440

http://www.adnkronos.com/AKI/English/Politics/?id=3.0.4019601818

_______________________________________________________

Wanchai Tongwijit
Location:Wichit, Phuket City, Thailand
Cause of Death:Shot in the head
Date of Death:November 21, 2009
She was 35 years old.
Source:http://www.phuketgazette.net/archives/articles/2009/article8045.html

_______________________________________________________

Mariah Malina Qualls
Location: San Francisco, California
Cause of Death: Blunt force trauma to the head.
Date of Death: December 9, 2009
Mariah was 23 years old
Sources:http://www.ktvu.com/news/22015154/detail.html

_______________________________________________________

Estrella (Jose Angel) Venegas
Location: Mexicali, Mexico
Cause of Death: Shot in the chest and the forehead
Date of Death: December 13, 2009
Estrella was 32 years old
Sources: Estrella’s brother.

_______________________________________________________

Wong
Location: Bernama, Malaysia
Cause of Death: Wong had stab wounds in the right side of the stomach and left side of the chest plus bruises in the right hand.
Date of Death: January 1, 2010
Wong was 64 years old.
Source:http://www.bernama.com/bernama/v5/newsgeneral.php?id=465620

_______________________________________________________

Myra Chanel Ical
Location: Houston, Texas
Cause of Death: Many wounds and defensive bruises.
Date of Death: January 18, 2010
Myra was 51 years old.
Source:http://www.myfoxhouston.com/dpp/news/local/100120-partially-clothed-folo

_______________________________________________________

Derya Y.
Location: Antalya, turkey
Cause of Death: Stabbed to death
Date of Death: February 8, 2010
Derya was 35 years old.
Source:http://www.bianet.org/english/minorities/119958-transgender-derya-y-killed-in-antalya

_______________________________________________________

Fevzi Yener (nickname – Aycan)
Location: Şehremin, İstanbul
Cause of Death: Stabbed 17 times
Date of Death: February 16, 2010
No age was reported
Source: Istanbul LGBTT

http://www.istanbul-lgbtt.org/

_______________________________________________________

Dino Curi Huansi
Location:Parma, Italy
Cause of Death:Stabbed and left in roadside dump
Date of Death:March 26, 2010
She was 28 years old.
Source:Italian breakfast television (“Rai Uno”)
and www.parmaoggi.it/2010/03/26/trovato-un-cadavere-in-via-del-traglione-la-vittima-\
e-un-trans-di-circa-trent’anni-si-indaga-per-omicidio/

http://www.parmaoggi.it/2010/03/27/identificato-il-trans-ucciso-si-chiamava-dino-era-argentino-e-aveva-28-anni/

_______________________________________________________

Amanda Gonzalez-Andujar
Location: Queens, New York
Cause of Death: Strangled
Date of Death: March 27, 2010
Amanda was 29 years old.
Source:http://www.nydailynews.com/news/ny_crime/2010/04/01/2010-04-01_choked_to_death.html

_______________________________________________________

Unidentified transgender woman
Location: Jakarta, Indonesia
Cause of Death: dismembered and mutilated
Date of Death: estimated to have taken place the last week in March
Source:http://www.thejakartapost.com/news/2010/04/05/mutilation-victim-may-have-been-transsexual-police.html

_______________________________________________________

Unidentified transgender woman
Location: Chihuahua, Mexico
Cause of Death: Beheaded
Date of Death: April 3, 2010
Source:http://www.carlaantonelli.com/notis-05042010-mujer-transexual-decapitada-mexico.htm

_______________________________________________________

Toni Alston
Location: Charlotte, North Carolina
Cause of Death: shot to death
Date of Death: April 3, 2010
Toni was 44 years old.
Source:http://www.charlotteobserver.com/2010/04/14/1375123/family-asks-for-info-in-mans-killing.html

_______________________________________________________

Ashley Santiago Ocasio
Location: Corozal, Puerto Rico
Cause of Death: Stabbed to death
Date of Death: April 19, 2010
Ashley was 31 years old.
Source:http://www.edgeftlauderdale.com/index.php?ch=news&sc=&sc2=&sc3=&id=104728

_______________________________________________________

Azra
Location: Izmir, Turkey
Cause of Death: Shot in the back of the head
Date of Death: April 27, 2010
Azra was 30 years old.
Source:http://iglhrc.wordpress.com/2010/05/03/recognition-of-an-organization-and-the-loss-of-a-leader/

_______________________________________________________

Chanel (Dana A. Larkin)
Location: Milwaukee, Wisconsin
Cause of Death: Shot in the head
Date of Death: May 7, 2010
Chanel was 26 years old.
Source:http://www.edgeboston.com/index.php?ch=news&sc=&sc2=news&sc3=&id=105882

_______________________________________________________

Unidentified transgender woman
Location:San Cristobal, Dominican Republic
Cause of Death: Raped and shot 3 times
Date of Death: May 15, 2010
Source:http://transsadominicana1.blogspot.com/2010/05/se-suma-una-victima-mas-los-crimenes-de.html and http://http//www.elnacional.com.do/nacional/2010/5/15/48655/Asesinan-un-travesti-fue-violado

_______________________________________________________

Angie González Oquendo
Location: Caguas, Puerto Rico
Cause of Death: Strangled with an electrical cord
Date of Death: May 24, 2010
Angie was 38 years old
Source:http://www.edgeboston.com/index.php?ch=news&sc=&sc2=news&sc3=&id=106112

_______________________________________________________

Sandy Woulard
Location:Chicago, Illinois
Cause of Death:Shot in the chest
Date of Death June 21, 2010
Sandy was 28 years old.
Source: Chicago Sun Times (The victim was identified as Credale Woulard)

http://www.edgelosangeles.com/index.php?ch=news&sc=&sc2=news&sc3=&id=107516

_______________________________________________________

Roy Antonio Jones III
Location: Southampton, NY
Cause of Death: Punched repeatedly and grabbed by the neck
Date of Death: August 1, 2010
Roy was 16 Months old.
Note: 20 year old Pedro Jones told police he had struck the infant several times with a closed fist. Jones said he was “trying to make him act like a boy instead of a little girl.”
Source:http://tiny.cc/rw69f

_______________________________________________________

Imperia Gamaniel Parson
Location: San Pedro Sula, Honduras
Cause of Death: shot
Date of Death: August 30, 2010
source: http://bikyamasr.com/wordpress/?p=16738
_______________________________________________________

Gypsy
Location: Houston, Texas
Cause of Death: shot to death
Date of Death: September 6, 2010
source: Cristan Williams via the Houston Police Department
_______________________________________________________

Victoria Carmen White
Location Maplewood, New Jersey
Cause of Death shot
Date of Death September 12, 2010
Victoria was 28 years old.
Source:http://www.baristanet.com/2010/09/maplewood-murder-victim-transgender-female/

http://www.news12.com/articleDetail.jsp?articleId=261210&position=1&news_type=news

_______________________________________________________

Justo Luis González García
Location Juana Diaz, Puerto Rico
Cause of Death shot in the head
Date of Death September 13, 2010
Justo Luis was 34 years old.
This is 1 of the 2 transgender people found murdered, they were found together.
The second is unidentified.
Source: http://glaadblog.org/2010/09/13/two-transgender-women-found-murdered-in-puerto-rico/ and http://www.elnuevodia.com/ultimandoshombresquevestianropademujer-778501.html

_______________________________________________________

Unidentified person dressed in women’s clothes
Location Juana Diaz, Puerto Rico
Cause of Death shot in the head
Date of Death September 13, 2010
This is 1 of the 2 transgender people found murdered, they were found together.
Source: http://glaadblog.org/2010/09/13/two-transgender-women-found-murdered-in-puerto-rico/ and http://www.elnuevodia.com/ultimandoshombresquevestianropademujer-778501.html

_______________________________________________________

Irem
Location Bursa, Turkey
Cause of Death Drowned in her apartment
Date of Death September 20, 2010
Source: Richard Köhler, Transgender Europe – www.tgeu.org
_______________________________________________________

Stacey Lee aka Stacey Blahnik
Location Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
Cause of Death unreported by police
Date of Death October 11, 2010
Stacey was 31 years old
Source:http://m.philly.com/phillycom/db_41090/contentdetail.htm?contentguid=rsn84XoX&src=cat

http://www.philly.com/dailynews/local/20101013_Body_of_transsexual_found_in_Point_Breeze.html

_______________________________________________________

Unidentified person dressed in women’s clothes
LocationSheikhupura, Pakistan
Cause of Death Brutally tortured and burned
Date of Death November 6, 2010
Source: http://tribune.com.pk/story/73811/eunuch-and-cross-dressers-bodies-found/
_______________________________________________________

Unidentified Eunuch
LocationSheikhupura, Pakistan
Cause of Death Brutally tortured and burned
Date of Death November 7, 2010
Source: http://tribune.com.pk/story/73811/eunuch-and-cross-dressers-bodies-found/

MetroWeekly sample cover

Metro Weekly, a D.C. based magazine with a focus on LGBT community, news, and events, is hosting its annual Cover Boy Contest, a competition between D.C.’s “hottest men,” who are also typically part of the LGBT community. While this may seem like just a gay beauty contest, I spoke with a contestant and frequent TNG poetry contributor, Jeremy Pace, who insisted that both the competition and Metro Weekly could prove to be incredibly important steps in dispelling stereotypes and in pushing for stronger ties within the LGBT community.

The New Gay: How did you hear about this competition?

Jeremy Pace: I’m a reader of Metro Weekly and I know a few people who write for it, so I guess I kind of just heard about it through them.

TNG: What are your reasons for running?

JP: To be honest with you, as I said in the audition video, originally I heard about being a competitor for this competition and I sort of laughed it off. But my job encouraged me to kind of try and put myself out there a little more—to sort of be the face of my job. But also, once I started thinking about it, I realized I’m one of the few young gay men I know that really kind of doesn’t fall into the pressures of the D.C. gay community in particular. There’s a certain type of gay, and so I thought, you know maybe if I win this competition and get an article and an interview, I could kind of sound off about some of those things. And if there are any other young gay guys out there like me, then they’ll realize that they’re not entirely alone.  And they won’t feel like, I don’t know, ostracized? Or feel a need to participate in the stereotypes. [Ed. Note: No wonder Jeremy is such a good fit at TNG!]

TNG: You said that there’s a certain type of gay. What does that mean?

JP: I feel like there’s a lot of pressure to be very materialistic, very catty a lot of the time. Very “Bravo,” if you know what I mean—the Bravo Channel? Basically there’s a lot of pressure I think in young gay men,  especially in their early 20’s,  to follow these strict guidelines which aren’t necessarily any different than the guidelines in any other demographic when you’re a certain age. But I feel like they’re almost becoming a part of our people, you know, like expectations that we have of one another, just to spend ridiculous amounts of money on clothing, and to be cutthroat and catty.

I just remember back in the day when I was a young man in the 90s, watching the only little scraps of any culture media that I could get my hands on in Missouri. I remember thinking, “Gosh, wow, this is a way to be a family in the gay community.” Just watching things like The Birdcage, and thinking like, “These people love each other because they’re there for one another.” And I don’t think we have that anymore. I don’t think our generation has that. I think now they watch Real Housewives. I mean even RuPaul’s Drag Race: the first season was great, they were all really nice to one another. But I stopped watching it after season two because they started getting really cutthroat and bitchy. And there’s no reason for that, you know?

TNG: So, why should you be Metro Weekly’s Cover Boy? What would set you apart from the other candidates?

JP: There’s a whole part of D.C. that’s not just what I was just talking about basically. There’s a whole type of gay D.C.—and not just gay D.C, queer D.C. And it’s not represented, and it’s not encouraged. I think I could be a face for that, and a representative of that, and a reminder of that. Hopefully we could get more of a Renaissance happening if I could sound off about it a little bit and have a chance to represent that.

TNG: What qualities do you think the Metro Weekly cover boy should ultimately embody?

JP: He should be ambitious; he should have a set of goals beyond Friday and Saturday night. [He laughs]. But at the same time, he should know how to be social and friendly. He should be able to talk to people. You know, this is a social competition, and I completely understand that. And I love people, you know, I’m not saying that all I have is complaints about gay men—I really enjoy talking to all types of people. So, I think that he [Metro Weekly cover boy] should be the interesting person at the party that has a story for you, but also is a person who will dance with you as well.

TNG: Why is this competition important? How is Metro Weekly important to the gay community?

JP: I think this competition has the ability to be incredibly important if used correctly. It can give sort of a snapshot of what the gay community is looking like at certain periods of time each year, and take the temperature of the next generation. Why Metro Weekly is important is because it’s so well published and it’s just really great that we have, here in D.C., this weekly community paper for us where we’re all in-tuned to the same sort of information. When I first moved here—I mean, like there were no gays where I’m from at all.  There were like, six of us, and there were five when I moved. When I moved here and saw that there were enough gays here to have a weekly newspaper that was not only a newspaper, but had a glossy cover, I was blown away. It made me feel so safe here—at every Metro stop, even at the ones I thought would be more conservative.

TNG: You said you’re from Missouri?

JP: Yeah.

TNG: How was that environment growing up?

JP: Hostile! Hostile, so anti-gay. [He laughs.] Yeah, it still is for the most part. But the weird thing is, when I came out in high school luckily for me the Will and Grace, Queer as Folk had just started. You know, we were past Ellen, but we weren’t quite yet to Modern Family. So it was still a novelty, and a lot of people wanted a gay best friend. Which on one hand is really offensive I guess, you know, like saying you want to be friends with Aunt Jemima, like, that’s horrible. But on the other hand it was like, at least they want to be friends with me. It could be much worse. So I was really well received in St. Louis. But then after high-school, I moved back into the country again, and I got fired from four different jobs for being gay, which is legal in Missouri—well I don’t know if it still is or not, but it was at the time. It was totally legal to fire someone for their sexual orientation, so I got fired, like, four times in a row.

TNG: What made you come to D.C.?

JP: Um, well, I’m from a really, really poor trailer park family. And there are only two ways to get out of the trailer park, and that’s prison or the armed forces. So, my brother actually had been stationed at Walter Reed when he joined the army. And I was about to join the Navy, but he decided that I probably wouldn’t make it a day in the armed forces, so he told me to just come out here and live with him instead.

TNG: And then you found that you liked D.C. a lot?

JP: Oh yeah, I mean I was trying to move to the East Coast my entire life, since the day I was born.

TNG: You mentioned in the film clip watching The Little Mermaid and realizing you were gay. Can you elaborate on that a little bit?

JP: Yeah, actually, it’s my first memory. When I was three years old, I remember watching it. And as soon as it was over, my parents turned to me and I remember them asking me, “Well did you like it? What did you think?” And for some reason, not only right off the bat did I know that I wanted to be the Little Mermaid, but I also knew that I wanted Price Eric, or some prince to come rescue me. And without any sort of subconscious influence, I mean I was too young to have much influence one way or the other I don’t think, but I knew right off the bat that I couldn’t tell anybody. I knew that whatever that feeling was, was wrong. And I had to hide it. So the story goes that I hid behind the couch, and I just stuck my head out, and I watched it again three times in a row from behind the couch so no one would see how much I loved it.

Pace is one of 38 contestants in the competition. Vote for him here.

It seems unfortunate that this headline is news, but in these times it is. After a teacher was suspended for disciplining anti-gay (and racist) behavior from a student in his class, 14-year-old Graeme Taylor came to his defense during a school board meeting with this incredibly articulate speech. Graeme was joined at the school board meeting by about 100 other students wearing purple.

Has anyone else started to notice that lately “neutrality” seems to mean enforcing rules that further subject people of sexual and racial minorities to bigotry? What kind of a message do we send to our children when free speech becomes nothing more than the freedom to be intolerant?

How does the saying go? “The hottest place in Hell…”