A new twist in the Prop 8 case, with a court date coming just days after a controversial new judge is expected to join the Supreme Court. New York launches its own attack on the Defense of Marriage Act, and polling brings mostly good news, and a little bad.

Pretty quiet week, nothing too exciting — except everyone in New York getting married! Plus hearings on DOMA repeal, with Al Franken calling out an anti-gay liar. Plus more news from Maryland to Washington state.

At once both Kenny-G and Sideshow Bob, her hair is ubiquitous on this week’s news programs and for some reason it is hitting all my buttons.  There’s just something about those twisted crimson tentacles that draws me in heart and soul.  While she stone-facedly simpers and apologizes to the press and public, her tresses tell a totally different story: “I’m lying!  I’ve never been sorry!  I’d do it all again in a heartbeat you mewling cowards!  I will live to see all of you crushed and destroyed, ground into the dust under the heels of those who dare to conquer and take what they will, laughing as the wind whips away the final piteous moans of the defeated!”

I’m not the only one who’s clued in to Rebekah’s vibe.  My new favorite blog LesbianHair picked up what Bekah’s laying down.  In a post that positively capers with Britishness, LesbianHair sums up Ms. Brooks’ blithely bad-bitch ‘do as such:

(courtesy ssoosay, flickr.com)

“1. She’s a bit of alright.

2. If you plonk a ginger wig atop Kate Middleton’s lollipop head, and you get Rebekah Brooks.

3. It’s not entirely ridiculous to suggest that she could be played by the beautiful Amy Adams in the film all about this. (No surprises as to who Michael Sheen would play.  I’m vying for a shar pei in glasses to channel Murdoch.)

4. She is very possibly from a parallel universe where Nicole Kidman didn’t use Botox.

So, we know she’s fit.  But is Rebekah’s hair lesbiany?  Yes.  Why?  Because of the 90s.  Her hair is massively 90s, and 90s seems to be big in the queer scene right now.  Also, she’s powerful and sexy and mean.  She might not deserve to retain her role as CEO of News International, but she certainly deserves to be [on our site].  We’re crushing hard.”

Now that they mention it, she does have a flash of early-nineties Shannon Doherty about her, doesn’t she?

Bottom line, could we call all these criminal proceedings over and done with if Rebekah danced to Willow Smith’s “Whip My Hair”?

The Prop 8 trial is coming to Broadway — and then to theaters all over the country. The fallout from New York continues, with renewed efforts in Maryland and Colorado. The Senate Judiciary Committee will hear testimony on DOMA’s repeal on Wednesday, the 20th, and meanwhile Canada makes us look bad celebrating the sixth anniversary of marriage equality.

Submission by TNG Contributor K. Kriesel

When people see me with a bioguy lover, the few who say something will say one of two things:

1) that I’ve turned straight

2) we might be two gay guys

The main difference between those groups is that 1) sees sex and 2) sees gender expression.  Group 1 perceives “opposite sexes” (and don’t know that phrase makes no sense) and expects certain behaviors – like that I secretly loathe my lover and just want him to buy me things.  They also usually can’t resolve my queerness with my “heterosexuality;” apparently I must choose one or the other.

What Group 1 can’t see but Group 2 can is that the people to whom I’m attracted are usually masculine and that I’m rather masculine.  In addition to just basic attraction, I relate more to masculine people.  One thing that I’ve noticed recently is that most of the guys I get along with best have only brothers.  Guys with sisters tend to be more protective of me rather than challenging, and I hate being protected.
Anyway, Group 2 is a bit closer to reality.  They see gender expression, which is a facet of an individual.  Biological sex has no inherent meaning or value, therefore judging a relationship on it ignores the true value of the people involved.

There are some queer people who are in Group 1, which is very disappointing.  The queer community has been fighting for decades to be accepted for/despite “same sex” relationships.  And now that I have “opposite sex” lovers, some queer people are giving me the same shit they’ve been given.  It’s frustrating!  And a few can’t/won’t see that we’re in the same predicament!

What those poor misguided queers and Group 1 see are “opposite sexes” and privilege.  Yes, there are L.U.G.s (Lesbian Until Graduation) who give up their queerdom to live a “normal” life of straight privilege.  That is not me!  The people of Group 1 who assume my hatred of my lovers expect me to be like all the breeder women who’d rather be in a miserable relationship than contentedly single.  And they do so because they get privileges by being in relationships with normal men.
And I don’t even want a relationship!

It’s been another super busy week so let’s get right to it: Rhode Island is getting civil unions but along with them come some dangerous anti-gay laws. Maine will collect signatures to overturn that state’s marriage ban, and seven couples have sued New Jersey to do the same there. The American Medical Association endorsed marriage equality, the National Organization for Marriage won’t be allowed to use secret donors in Minnesota, the Department of Justice sided against DOMA in one case and with DOMA in another. And as of this weekend, I’ve moved: goodbye San Francisco, and hello West Hollywood.

The 19th Annual Dyke March is on Saturday, June 25th and in the original spirit of Stonewall and the early Gay Pride Marches they will be marching down 5th Avenue.

Whether you’re lesbian, gay, bi, trans, or simply call yourself queer – we could all learn from the Dyke March ethos.

“It’s the time to hit the streets! Make some noise.  Be visible.  Be heard.  Demonstrate, agitate, liberate! Bring signs, banners, drums, giant puppets, flags, hula hoops, or just be there!

The Dyke March is a protest march, not a parade — we don’t ask for a permit, because we have the right to protest.  We recognize that we must organize amongst ourselves to fight for our rights, our safety, and for visibility.  Thousands of dykes take over the streets every year in celebration of LBTQ women and to protest against ongoing discrimination, harassment, and anti-LBTQ violence in schools, on the job, in our families, and on the streets.” - Dyke March

We could all use this kind of energy to ignite our inner activist and remind us what is at the heart of each and every Pride. Start making your sign!

Venue: March begins on 42nd & 5th at Bryan Park

Time: Set off at 5pm

Info: Herstory

After Party: Ginger’s Bar in Park Slope, 363 5th Ave., $10 cover

c. Lindsey Byrnes

Submission by Kaysey  Crump, TNG music columnist

Megan Ouchida of The Mnemonic Sounds and Kay Bertholf of Candy Claws are something of an indie lez match made in heaven. The pair met over the Internet, Megan based in Portland, OR, Kay based in Ft. Collins, CO. After a whirlwind long-distance relationship Megan asked Kay to marry her last month. Both women are musicians and songwriters in their respective hometowns. In part one of this two part interview I spoke with Megan about her band, The Mnemonic Sounds, her Christian music roots, and what she loves the most about Kay.

The New Gay: Last year was a pretty big year for Mnemonic Sounds after releasing your first album. How has 2011 been for you guys?

Megan Ouchida: Since the beginning of the year, we’ve received a lot of positive feedback about our first album, Muscle Memories. Our music has been featured in a number of commercials, including a Herman Miller Press Release and a Canadian ad for Shoppers Drug Mart. We’ve had the opportunity to share bills with bands like Phantogram and Macintosh Braun. More recently, we’ve been working on commission songs as per our publisher’s request to submit for the upcoming movie Breaking Dawn, which is the fourth movie in the Twilight Saga, as well as a song for the season finale of Grey’s Anatomy. We won’t find out for a couple more months whether or not our submissions were chosen, so our fingers are crossed!

TNG:  What were you doing prior to joining the Mnemonic Sounds?

MO: I did some solo stuff. When I was seventeen I released a solo album and another album in 2008, and the Peter (Suk) got a hold of me and said “Hey, let’s do some music,” and I said “Alright!” We’d known each other from a few years back. We went to the same church and we just started from there.

TNG: Did you grow up in Portland?

MO: Yeah I did, I live in Milwaukie (OR).

TNG: So did Peter just know that you had been playing music around?

MO: Yeah so when we went to the same church I was like twelve and he was a few years older than me, maybe eighteen or nineteen. We didn’t talk much. He went off to college, came back a few years later and found out I had been doing music on my own. I guess he liked it so we collaborated.

TNG: How do you two write songs together?

MO: For the first album we would take turns, like he would write six instrumentals and give them to me and I wrote six instrumentals and gave them to him for each other to write melody and lyrics to.

TNG: That’s really cool.

MO: Yeah! It got kind of experimental by the end. He wrote a song by himself and I wrote a song by myself because we were like, “ahhh, we need songs quick!” So yeah we kind of just do half-and-half. But for the EP, what we’ve been doing for the last couple months is that we’ll be in practice with the rest of our band and we’ll try to come up with ideas together, record them, and then go home and try to turn that into a song. We’ve done that with one rough song that we have right now. We’re just playing with a bunch of different things.

TNG: What inspires your writing?

MO: Let’s see, lots of different stuff. I think mostly relationships and stuff. People that have influenced my life, Kay for sure.

TNG: Do you think that the queer experience has had anything to do with your writing?

MO: I think that some of the new songs are kind of written about being with Kay, I guess that’s really just my experience as a lesbian. But it’s not what I would necessarily call a “queer song.”

TNG: Yeah, it’s still human.

MO: I mean it’s music and it’s about me and I happen to be gay. It’s influenced some of the lyrics for sure.

TNG: How did you meet Kay?

MO: We met online actually and we dated for like two months before we met each other. She flew here (Portland, OR) and visited over Thanksgiving and we hung out for a week and it was great. We’ve been together for seven months now and a couple weeks ago we got engaged.

TNG: Congratulations!

MO: Thanks!

TNG: Do you have any plans for her to move to Portland?

MO: Yeah she has one more year of school and then she’s moving up to Portland. So yeah…

TNG: Well, congratulations again. Big announcement!

MO: Yeah!

TNG: What is your favorite thing about Kay? I’m going to ask her this, too.

MO: There are way too, many but I would say the first thing that I noticed about her that kind of caught me off-guard was that she’ll speak her mind and not really care what you think about it. Or she’ll just say what she’s thinking and not give a thought about whether you disagree or agree. She doesn’t really care she’s just, like, real. I really appreciate that about her.

TNG: Do you guys play music together?

MO: We haven’t, we have the idea of maybe doing some songs together when she moves here but you never know. That’s a long way down the road.

TNG: Has it been tough to do the long-distance thing?

MO: Yeah it’s pretty tough. We make sure to take turns flying to each other every month or so or as often as we can. But since she’s busy with school and I’m busy with work and music it gets tricky sometimes, we make sure to see each other once a month. When we’re not skyping with each other we’re texting with each other, and when we’re not texting we’re skyping. That helps.

TNG: Who are your musical influences?

MO: God, there are so many bands that I’m sure have influenced me in one way or another but some of the bands I listen to a lot are Death Cab for Cutie, Copeland, Tegan and Sara, there’s a lot.

TNG: Do you remember the first CD you ever purchased or were given?

MO: Yes I do! I was raised in a very conservative Christian home so I was only allowed to listen to Christian music until I was like fourteen, and then for Christmas my mom gave me an NSYNC cd and I went crazy with that. I was, like, the biggest NSYNC fan just because I was like “Oh my god, this isn’t Christian and my mom’s letting me listen to it!”

TNG: We have similar music histories. I was very Christian too and then I was obsessed with NSYNC and in love with Lance Bass haha.

MO: Yeah, haha. Justin Timberlake was my guy. But ever since I was allowed to listen to “secular” music I just went crazy with it.

TNG: Did you listen to Jennifer Knapp?

MO: Oh yeah.

TNG: That was a big announcement last year.

MO: Oh yes, I heard. That’s great.

TNG: Any final thoughts or information you would like to share with the TNG readers?

MO: Check out Mnemonic Sounds and Candy Claws!

Don’t miss the rest of the interview tomorrow, when Kaysey Crump talks with  Kay about her band, Candy Claws, the big engagement news, and how Megan inspires her.

I’ve been doing some really cool work on marriage equality that’s kept me so busy, I didn’t even have time for a proper green screen this week. But try to ignore that, because a lot is happening right now.

We’re down to the last possible second for marriage in New York, there was a major victory in California, new challenges to the Defense of Marriage act, bad news in France, and good news in Lichtenstein.

Today’s the day for the hearing over whether a gay judge is allowed to hear a case about marriage. It’s also the anniversary of the ruling that ended the ban on interracial marriage. A Catholic adoption agency in Illinois is suing for the right to stop foster kids from going to adoptive LGBT parents. And you can’t get married in Wyoming, but you can get divorced.

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.”

Working at O’Hare, two kinds of straight (usually white) men really stand out: the airport construction worker and the elitist businessman,because they’re similar in how they hit on me. Because they assume that I have a vagina*, apparently that means I’m there for their advances. I tend to ignore them, especially since they hit on all “women” equally and a flight attendant will probably kick them out – you go, girls!

But then these guys will call me pretty. I don’t want to be pretty, I want to be smart. Firstly, I don’t see how someone who looks like Michael Cera can be pretty to these skeezy guys. Secondly, my appearance is not an invitation. I know that some of these guys, usually the construction workers, probably think that calling me a “pretty girl” is the utmost compliment and they probably mean well. How are they supposed to know that I would be irritated while their wives/daughters/etc. appreciate it?

Throughout school, especially when I broke my nose at 9, I was The Ugly Girl. Of course, now I know that it was because I was malnourished, abused and generally disconnected from my own body. At the time, it was incredibly painful. Up until 8th grade, I saved up all my money for plastic surgery, I mildly dieted and stuffed my bra. Then I embraced my Ugly self and actively decided to walk my own path as an Ugly person.

In high school, though, my acceptance of my Ugliness didn’t make rejection any easier. Now I know that a couple people did have crushes on me, but I was still holding out on my Prince Charming who would perceive some personal beauty beyond my malnourished, abused body (as though such personal beauty couldn’t exist without that validation). And I wasn’t willing to act dumb or to give flattery where it wasn’t due, so my refusal to compromise with stupidity made me even more alone romantically. And then some guys bet each other to ask me out.

At college**, though, things finally opened up. Firstly, I was in a healthy place!! Secondly, a mind-centric group was available. I was finally able to form myself and to pick my scene. Things turned around!

It’s not that I don’t want to be perceived as pretty, just not 24/7. Or even 8/5. How about 2/3, two hours a day three days a week? When I CHOOSE to be perceived as pretty. Although I would absolutely never choose to relive those Ugly years the same way, being The Ugly Kid taught me to value smarts over beauty. I’d far rather be called “smart person” than “pretty girl.”

—

* one of the many reasons why I love it so much when people call me “sir” or get confused in public bathrooms

** at an all-women college, a lot of students really enjoyed not being “pretty” (makeup, done-up hair, jewelry, heels, bras, etc.) all the time. However, a lot of women there thought that they MUST do/wear these things when a man, even a gay man, was around. I could never get a reason out of them as to why.

A new poll shows us neck-and-neck in Minnesota, with a vote on marriage still a year off. There’s just two weeks left to pass marriage in New York, but a Senate bill still hasn’t even been introduced yet. Illinois launched civil unions this week as Rhode Island debated doing the same. And a Michigan Republican can’t tell the difference between gay couples and child abusers.

This week’s all about Equality Maryland’s chaos, plus the looming deadline in New York, civil unions in Illinois, and that French politician who compared gay couples to bestiality.

The chaos at Equality Maryland has gotten so bad, the organization may have to shut down altogether. Time’s nearly run out to pass a marriage bill in New York. Catholic Charities is so unwilling to provide adoption services to gay couples that they simply abandoned 350 children to the state of Illinois this week. And it looks like the Prop 8 proponents just caught themselves in a li

One of the most difficult aspects of a break up is adjusting to singlehood: Everything is back to single servings. c. Elizabeth Ann Colette, Wikimedia Commons

You know those movies where the entire day seems choreographed to a fairytale box office soundtrack? Every step synchronized, bending over to pluck a four-leaf clover, sun in the eyes so bright that your smile deflects its potency, a plot driven character about to hit the apex of their arch, and that one pivotal character waiting outside an apartment steps. Well, a few weeks ago that day was mine, and I should have suspected as much.

The music stopped about fifty feet from my apartment when I looked up from searching for my keys. My stride stuttered a beat, and I instantly meditated myself away to an endorphin filled fantasy of jogging along a tequila sunrise beach. During the time we dated my ex had not once just showed up unexpectedly and waited at my apartment steps. (Something I might add was a fantasy of mine- having her waiting at my door holding a colorful bouquet for me.)

That day was a bittersweet assault of torrential rain, lightning crashes, and dramatic thunder rolls- an emotional storm of sorts. There was no music playing as I cried myself to sleep that night; there was no knock on the door from someone running back into my arms; there was only the ringing in my ears, an empty pillow next to my head, and soiled tissues where a body would occasionally lay aside me.

After a breakup, we strive to make our lives better; to move on; to forget; to plead the away the pain; to second guess actions made; to wish we never met them at all. Some say we put the pieces back together [but we all know we aren't jigsaw puzzles]. We reassemble. We repair. We endure and advance. We find ourselves forging new relationships, reconnecting with those we strayed from, returning to our core, and grappling with circumstances that remind of us of those no longer in our life as we would like them to be.

I won’t lie, it has been difficult to admit this painful truth: Many of the smiles and gay moments I’ve had since the breakup were in situations that I would have never experienced with my ex. Sad, but true.

I find myself hesitating to enjoy the smiles and feel unrest stepping outside myself during the gay moments — forging new memories seems so contradictory; being open and willing for another queer relationship makes you vulnerable. It’s also been difficult to make decisions or evaluate things, regardless of how inconsequential or significant, without considering what their opinion would be. It’s not easy to remove a variable or operator from an equation, especially one that was so important and vital. (I equate it to attempting addition without using a plus sign- (f)x = x² ? 2x – 1; somewhere in there is a parabola but I don’t know where.)

The most difficult aspect has been the adjustment. Everything is back to single servings: single serving friends with their single server grande lattes. I keep waiting for that single serving frame of the man sporting gray pants and a worn red leather jacket wearing sun glasses to flash before me, or maybe it would be a wiry black haired, vitamin D deprived woman in black dress.

It’s not easy when you loved someone. You accepted them for who they were and are- faults, flaws, and all. (And all you perfect people out there that think you’re perfect, you do have imperfections; you just choose not to see them). Unravelling those feelings is a tedious chore that typically does not happen quickly. It’s the Knot of Knots, but once it’s completely unravelled it allows you to move on. There is a bit of a cheat code to help advance you to the next level- closure. (Power-up with a green little mushroom, and maybe the next brick you break is a flashing star making you temporarily invincible, except for falling off screen.)

Some are able to get closure; others aren’t. If you’re able to get that closure, it never comes neatly gift wrapped in a bow [and if it did, it would most likely be a pink rabbit suit from Aunt Clara]; most of the time it comes as shards or metal shavings we’re forced to swallow like a spoonful of toxic amoxicillin. Some prefer the ignorance is bliss analogy; others get hung up on or struggle moving forward because they never got it. If it does come, regardless of how it happens, whether in an email, phone call, a face to face conversation, or a friend on their behalf, know others have been through the same and your family and friends are there for you afterwards.

My originally intention was to write this piece on closure, and in part it serves as much. One chapter closes as another begins. We are faced, sometimes it feels more like being confronted, with new circumstances, experiences, and possibilities. We’re forced to rewrite the plot that had been developing but never actually unfolded — a happy couple: one pushing a stroller and the other with a kid saddled on their back, possibly holding a dog leash. Once done with the eraser head, flip that pencil over and start rewriting with a smart end — the end with a sharp point — because that is the end that matters most in life.

This week is all about New York, with an interview about the lobbying efforts, plus some behind-the-scenes about immigration.