The girl with dark hair was coming towards them across the field. With what seemed a single movement she tore off her clothes and flung them disdainfully aside. Her body was white and smooth, but it aroused no desire in him, indeed her barely looked at it. What overwhelmed him in that instant was admiration for the gesture with which she had thrown her clothes aside. With its grace and carelessness it seemed to annihilate a whole culture, a whole system of thought, as though Big Brother and the Party and the Thought Police could all be swept into nothingness by a single splendid movement of the arm. That too was a gesture belonging to the ancient time.



I'm right now reading the novel 1984 by George Orwell. This is probably a bad thing because I start writing finals tomorrow and I have found the story to be absolutely fascinating. The world that Orwell has created seems to be real, with a complete and compelling image of what life in an oppressive state is actually like. It is fascinating.

The story is often noted as a mirror to the oppressive state created by Stalin in Soviet Russia that allowed people in the West to more fully appreciate the freedoms that they have. I can't deny this assertion; I've not researched at all into Orwell's goals with the book at all. Based on what I have been learning about Russia under Stalin over the past 6 months though, I would struggle to argue with Orwell's all-encompassing depiction.

And yet, I come here offering a slightly different perspective.

On Friday night I went to the local gay club. Had a great time dancing with a lot of great people. Talking to some good people. Meeting a few people. And I saw things - incredible things. Like two people of the same gender dancing on the dance floor. Kissing with incredible passion - an intimacy that I would find only appropriate in privacy and that is startling in public. And, in the same way that Winston is not attracted to these memories because of their inherent sexuality, these memories from Friday night have a near-poetic importance to me.

They are a proud, strong stance in opposition to a society that has put a lot of pressure on them to conform. Every graceful movement on the dance floor is a musical line with the punch of The Time Are A-Changing. It speaks wonders not only for what that one person believes, but also about what they have experienced and are refusing to accept.

In particular I love watching my two friends dance together. Their relationship is not only inspiring because of its mere existence, but because of the intimacy that these two people share. It feels natural to watch them be together - and both of them are so comfortable with their existence that this kind of observation is possible.

There has been more than one scene in the three chapters that I have thus far read where I have thought of my own experience as a closeted gay person and my experience in releasing myself from the chains of shame. With the grace and carelessness of this relationship, it seems to annihilate a whole culture, a whole system of thought, as though heterosexism and the fundamentalists and the trials of history could all be swept into nothingness by a single splendid moment of love.



With my next post I'm going to prove that I am more than gay. Believe me.

amour-propre

What does it mean to have Gay Pride?

Over the past couple of days, many of my friends who blog have been writing responses to this question in light of the recent postings for Straight Pride by the Tea Party (that right-winged collection of tax and health-care opposing individuals in the states).

Months ago, as one of my first blog entries, I wrote about an interview with Hugh Jackman that I had read, in which he stated that sexuality is such a small part of our being, and that to be restricted to one's sexuality as the single defining aspect of one's being is quite unfortunate.

And I agreed with him back then. And I agree with him now. I am so much more than gay, in the same way that many of my friends are so much more than straight. The fact that many of my straight friends have had to fight to discover their identity just as I have (though, I would argue whether or not they have had to fight to preserve it in the same way that many homosexuals have) points to this fact. Our sexuality is nothing.

And yet... it is everything.

I have one friend, to whom I came out months ago, who said that I needed to stop using the term gay as the one that best defines myself. I never quite understood this response, but it remains his concern. I haven't any idea where this criticism is coming from, but it is rather hurtful. I remain an admittedly fragile person while telling people that I am gay - I have not yet adopted the idea that people are going to have to just live with it (even though I have to live with the fact that so many people are straight).

And so this question of Gay Pride is an important one for me to consider. Daily. As I try and discern how it is that I now exist, as an out-gay man, in a society that doesn't understand me but is willing to mostly tolerate me. As long as I'm not holding hands in public, or kissing my boyfriend in a playground while surrounded by children.

Do I shout my sexuality from the hilltops? Be militant about it? Do I turn every issue into an issue of gender? Do I push people to come out themselves, just so that the gay cause can advance?

I hope not.

My Gay Pride is about me finally accepting everything about myself and being willing to share it with the world that I live in. And learning that the response that I get is of infinitely less importance than my willingness to experience love in a way that I have never felt it before.

I read this on a blog recently. It was a comment left behind.

"Being gay is the most important feature of my life for two reasons. Two very important reasons. It is how I love. And it is who I love.

When I meet that guy that I am going to fight for and fight with, I will be in the most defining relationship of my life. Being gay, and being attracted to and falling in love with him, is the most defining characteristic in your life. That is why we come out. That is why we tell people who we love."

Fundamentally, I am gay. I am so much more than gay, but gay nonetheless. It determines who I love, and how I am transformed by that love. A lot of me is not dependent on me being gay, but a lot of me is.

I'm probably a bad person

Is it wrong for me to be confused at times by this whole gay thing? Is homosexuality supposed to make sense to me just because it is the only thing I have ever known?

At times it seems like homosexual culture is affected by entirely different values than I understand. Let me tell you a short story.

Last night, after playing the Timpani in a percussion methodologies course at my university, I gave a good friend of mine a ride home. For some reason this friend has become quite inundated with sex recently. In conversation, she is always talking about sex - masturbation - intimacy. These are topics I don't shy away from, but I also realize that these are topics she is not really interested in talking about. Something happened to her last week to change this - I don't know what it was, but it seems as though sex is flocking in her direction.

So, while driving her home, we started talking about sex. She brought up the old television show Queer as Folk, which she proudly spent most of her high school years watching at home. I did not - but I have seen one part of an episode.

Apparently that part that I saw was a big deal - because I can find the scene on Youtube.



I'd love to deconstruct this scene and what it taught me about homosexuality while I was still in the closet - and the misconceptions that I developed as a result. But that isn't the point of this post.

Somehow, in my discussion about sex with my friend, I brought up this video clip. I told her, quite frankly and quite comfortably, that I would never consider having a serious sexual relationship with anybody who was HIV positive.

She told me it that she was sorry for me. I hate this line - it is far too... evangelical for my liking. But it is interesting; the combination of pity and sympathy is just a little too guilt-inducing to ignore.

I expanded this list of people with whom I would attempt to never have sexual relations with to include those who have other STIs.

She then mentioned that her uncle was able to have a wonderful relationship with his partner for 10 years before he passed away, and that his partner never contracted HIV. Which really made me feel like shit.

But I wonder if it is wrong of my to limit sex to those who aren't affecting by an unfortunate, and entirely unintentionally transmitted, disease. Is it wrong to wish to protect myself from the risk of contracting these infections as well?

I can understand the humanistic perspective that she was presenting; the social annexation that one can experience as a victim of STIs and the lack of intimacy that can result can very negatively affect one's psyche. I totally understand this. But, that being said, Che Guevara didn't go around sleeping with lepers. Neither did Mother Theresa. And, though I think I am relatively aware of the importance of intimacy, do I turn my sympathy for those without intimacy into a serious sexual relationship?

No. And certainly not for those reasons.

I don't deny that I am able to love somebody who has an STI - that I am able to choose to love somebody who has HIV. But I don't know if I am prepared to take the serious risks of sleeping with somebody that can so easily infect me. Is this wrong?

I feel like I need to be educated.

Axis and Allies

I've often mentioned on this blog and to many of my friends the important role that Youtube has had in normalizing my homosexuality as an aspect of my social person. If I haven't done that sufficiently, then kick me in the face when you see me next.

I recently discovered this video on Youtube.



This past week has been a bit rough for me. I came out to a friend of mine in a moment of extreme frustration and weakness, and with only partial intentions of doing it. His reaction has been understanding, but also reluctant. He very strongly believes that homosexuality is a sin. He has directed me to ex-gay ministries. And he does this all in love, not realizing the torment that it has caused me.

My heart has crumbled this week.

I sent him an e-mail yesterday explaining the challenges associated with being gay - how painful it is to grow up alone, isolated, and afraid that something you do is going to out you and put you in danger. I mentioned that we, as homosexuals and other sexual minorities, are the invisible minority; we have some control over when the world more completely discovers our identity.

But let me tell you a bit of a story from yesterday. While I was at work, I noticed that one of my friends was very hurt. She and I are usually rather playful - she is adorable, and fun, and when the world watches her smile it notices what happiness looks like. That being said, when she was hurt, angry and frustrated last night, you can see the air blacken around her. Something was troubling her.

I asked her if she would be willing to cover my lunch break, because she is one of only a few people who has been trained in my position who also works during the evenings and weekends with me. In this regard, she is almost always reliable - she doesn't enjoy what I do, but she is willing to go in there on my behalf. Last night, noticing she was frustrated, I was not particularly surprised when she said no.

But eventually she came up to cover my break, with one of my supervisors (who would have been required to cover my break if she didn't). And she seemed even more frustrated. I asked my supervisor if she could cover for 15 minutes while I went up to the staff lounge with my friend and we discussed what was affecting her so much. She was willing to do that.

My friend and I went to the secondary staff lounge which never has anybody in it, and we sat down, and she told me a story. She says that she consistently felt as though some of the members of the staff were harassing her for not doing her job even when she was fulfilling her duties better than other members of the staff. While other cashiers were welcome to wait for customers at the till, she was always told to redline (meaning, wait for customers) by our supervisor. She was feeling as though she was being watched by the supervisor for when she made a mistake, or when she called in because of illness (which is very, very rare). She felt as though her relationship with her boyfriend was constantly under the scrutiny of the other staff members - as though they wanted to be involved in discussing something she feels is better kept private.

I forgot to mention that this friend of mine is a Pakistani immigrant. And, I 've forgotten to mention that she feels her skin colour is the reason that she is being targetted instead of the other, white members of the staff. That her perception of racism against her was causing her emotional heartbreak and stress, and making her want to move to a new job.

I sat there with her, as her eyes dug into my soul with such extreme sadness, and we both shed a couple tears. I have never felt emotion as powerful as hers.

And it made me much more aware of just how much pain is caused by hatred, misunderstanding, and the perception of both by those who have no option to escape it. Whose skin colour, gender, or appearance, rather than sexuality, sets them apart from normalcy. Who feel helpless, alone, trapped, and powerless as a result of things they cannot help - experiences that I am familiar with.

My heart has crumbled this week.

And then I found this video, and realized that my responsibility as somebody familiar with some of these emotions is not merely to support her by pronouncing to her my acceptance and love for who she is, but also to be her ally. To pronounce my love and acceptance of everything that she is with the rest of the world - so that the world is aware of how unacceptable it is for me, for my co-worker, and for everybody.

If you've the time, I'd recommend this article. It singularly made me much more aware of my whiteness years ago... It is called "White Privelege: Unpacking the Invisible Knapsack" by Peggy McIntosh. It gets my most high recommendation.

Make a love chain!

I think of what I would do without school to distract me.

Would I rejoice in who I am created as? Or would I find myself more frustrated and aware of the turmoil that exists between me and the environment that I exist in? Would fear become even more consuming, or would some hope manifest itself and raise me like air rising in boiling water? Am I even capable of that?

I have an unfortunate confession to make. I'm reading Twilight. I will admit that I am not really enjoying it - I find the writing poor, and the characters a little too obvious at this point. Edward points out that Bella always catches him by surprise; Bella reminds me of every reason that I am thankful I was never a seventeen year-old girl. She is predictable. Consumed by love.

But Edward did provide an interesting, and familiar, commentary. I'd like to type it out, but I can't manage to find the passage. Admittedly, I'm rather embarassed that I've even read it. This book really is trash...

Regardless, his commentary is similar to this.

I've seen a lot of movies. I've read a lot books, been to a lot of plays. Listened to plenty of music. All of these forms of expression talk about relationship. Deep, personal, and intimate relationship. Something that is inadequately described at all times but almost universally understood as holy. These movies, books, plays and all of this music allow me to think that I understand love. Because I do - just as well as anybody else, perhaps.

But then tonight, I saw my best friend hanging out with her fiance. I saw love and passion in their eyes. The way that they communicated with mere slight alterations in their eyes. The curvature of their mouth. Their understanding of each other with languages so-much-more important and so-much-less obvious that words; it astonished me. And I realized that I have absolutely no idea what it is to love somebody.

Love. I can act as a dictionary as well as most, I think. But, I have no capacity to provide experience.


I try and direct my life towards things that will matter to people around me when I am gone. I'm only 23, but I try to make this my focus. Somehow I always sense that death is one step forward, though in which sense I do not know. So I spend time reading books, writing music. Grieving. Things that I think make you eternal. Relationship is foremost among these ideas.

I sang at a wedding on New Years Eve where this idea was shared.

"Love is something that you can leave behind you when you die. It's that powerful..." - Fire Lame Deer, Rosebud Lakota.


I want to have experience in love.

I wonder if I will ever be so blessed.