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.

Just a reminder...

"Wow. That sucks dick!"

Are you aware of how frequently I hear this phrase coming out of the mouths of youth that I work with? And how much it reminds me of how far into the shadows of my sexuality I need to be in order to communicate with some of these people?

Yesterday I went out with a youth with whom I have had a good, close relationship for about four years. Unfortunately, it had been about a year since we had last hung out. Admittedly, he is the kid that cared about me as much as I cared about him - when I started approaching depression again about a year ago, he was the only person to call me on it. Unfortunately, he wasn't somebody I could tell the source of my depression to.

But he forced me to deal with it.

Yesterday, we were talking about life over the past year. Oddly enough, this always develops into a discussion about God. So, here I was, a non-church membered, former youth sponsor, former Bible camp counsellor, gay former Christian, gingerly drinking my overly hot Chai Latté and talking about God with a kid that was once in my cabin at camp and who has always struggled with his identity as a Christian. We have mutual concerns over one of his cousins who recently returned from a year at Bible College - he seems more than just different; he seems like he is aiming for conversion. Neither of us like that.

He told me two stories.

One about a tragic event. It "sucked dick".

Another about a university staff member who recently came to his high school to try and promote the university football team and used terms such as "faggot", "pussy", and "queer" in his presentation. He shared his frustration, disgust and embarrassment with me.

My heart sank a bit. Because here is a genuine kid - a great young man who will be a golden adult. Here is a kid who, when he is told something is wrong and understands why (I converted him away from using the term "chick" to describe women a couple years ago - I described to him how it is rather derogatory towards women, even if they don't recognize it as such). Here is one of the friendliest, most charming kids on the planet who sees the most attractive aspect of Christianity as the part he sees in peoples hearts and eyes, hands and feet rather than in their words. Here is a kid who is searching for something so much bigger than he is but who has never had good guidance.

But, like so many out there, here is a kid who has never been properly told how sexual and repressive our daily language is - and has never considered how it can hurt others, unless he is told specific terms to avoid. Like faggot, pussy, and chick.


I wanted to tell him that sucking dick probably isn't actually that bad.

And then to cover myself up, I wanted to remind him that his girlfriend was willing to do it to him.

-----------------------------

All that being said, I'm getting ready to love this world. I can feel something happening inside me. There is this light - this cancerous growth - that is altering my actions. It is at once familiar and entirely new; I've felt this before, but I've never felt it when I have had so much freedom to be myself. Love.

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.

Change we can believe in.

You may not have noticed it happen.

There was a breeze though. A change in the direction of the wind. A faint but noticeable fragrance of lilacs. Something happened.

It was yesterday. I was outside enjoying the spring sun. And then it happened.


Americans found themselves covered by health insurance. All of them. When a new bill, complicated and completely new for an America that is increasingly wary of government involvement in their life, was voted on and passed the American houses of representation.

This is the kind of moment that, had it taken place two thousand years ago, would be written about by scholars as though some cloth separating the people from the experience of rightness was ripped in half.

Something happened. And for millions of Americans, life will never be the same.

Rumours and a Push

Last summer, just as my homosexuality was exploding onto my life, I told a close friend of mine that people who come out of the closet are usually ready for a relationship. They want to get into one and start experiencing their sexuality.

I told him I was nowhere near that stage.

Now I'm getting closer. I'm almost to the point where I am not only longing for some kind of relationship that has the potential to develop into a lifelong intimacy, but also getting pretty damn close to making my existence as a man that is attracted to men public knowledge.



Oddly enough, this has something to do with church. This past week I received a letter from my church asking me whether or not I was intending on maintaining my membership with them. Apparently they have noticed that I haven't been attending for the past 8 months. Some of them are surely concerned. Recently one of my prize members of the youth group that I worked with for four years contacted my ex-girlfriend and asked how I was doing. He said that he had heard "rumours" about me.

"Rumours"?

Apparently about me 'falling away from God'. Which I won't deny. This has happened. But not in the past 8 months. More like a general trend of the past 4 years.

My former church kind of missed the boat on that one.




I have a friend that I have blogged about in the past. He is the one who directed me towards ex-gay ministries after I half-intentionally, half-instinctively told him I was gay and then listened to him tell me what it meant to be gay and how he didn't want me to pidgeon-hole myself into being gay. Do I still sound angry? I hope not. This man, a friend of mine for many years and one of the few people that I love and respect without ceasing, has since recanted.

Now he pushes me to be myself, and let everybody know. And be so comfortable with myself that rebukes and concerns that I may sense or hear from any church that I attend bounce off of my like bullets off of a super-hero. And that I push the world to a greater understanding of sexuality, gender identities, and what it means to be Neal Adolph to a world that isn't even remotely aware. He wants me walking down the aisle of my church, holding the hand of my boyfriend, and sitting down comfortably - knowing that I am being silently rebuked, but being comfortable in my relationship and my spirituality all the same (admittedly the former seems more likely than the latter...).

That is a big task. But it has been done before. And it will be done again - this time spear-headed by me, bolstered by my friends and family, and push forward by this sense that I am ok. I'm not great, but I am by no means sleeping with the devil any more frequently than other people (ok, this may be a lie).




I went out this weekend to a music festival in town, and spent quite a bit of time mingling with the various conductors and choirs. One of the conductors, whom I've known and admired for years, is apparently (I had no idea) undeniably gay. And currently seeing 5 people. When somebody asked him if he would ever consider settling down, he said yes - if he found the right person, and if that person believed in God.

I'm starting to get that God isn't exclusive to heterosexuality.

I had intended this post to be about God, and starting to renegotiate what it means to be gay and christian (a response to a close friend of mine who challenged me last week), but far too many ridiculous events are taking place in the world. And so, once again, I am directed towards the topic of homosexuality.

For those of you who are unaware, I am trained as a teacher. For those of you who are unaware, my experience in high school was engulfed in bouts of depression largely circling around my burgeoning sexuality and concerns of coming out to a community that I was certain would not accept me. Once again, for those of you who are unaware, I largely entered the field of education convinced that I would provide some measure of assurance that homosexuality among the student body would become more and more accepted.


I was excited to hear that many schools in my city now have a Gay-Straight Alliance student body. I don't know if that would have resulted in me coming out in high school, but the idea of having a community in which I could find support would have really helped out a lot.

These kind of student groups do not exist in Mississippi. At a county high school in this southern American state, an 18-year old Lesbian student regularly receives education on what it means to live in society. Unfortunately, the education she is getting, both formal and informal, reminds me of why I chose not to come out to very many people in high school.

Constance McMillen was hoping to bring her partner to her high school prom. And wear a tuxedo. Her county school board, rather than saying no to her specifically (well, they already had told her no, but she persisted), decided to cancel the event entirely. Not only adversely affecting her but also her entire senior class. They've released a statement, quoting "distractions to the educational process caused by recent events" as the cause of the cancellation.

I'm sure the true cause has not been lost on the student body. Unfortunately, their selfish response has turned into bullying. Constance walks through the halls of her high school, now not only sensing that she is alone because of her sexuality, but also hearing comments such as "thanks for ruining my senior year!".

Constance is appropriately suing the school board.

This reminds me of an event in Canada in 2002. I was in Grade 9 at the time, and in a 15-passenger van with my high school Outdoor's Club. We were on our way to Montana's Abskaroka Wilderness Area, and listening to the CBC radio because we could not get consistent reception from any other radio station. During a news brief, we were told that a young gay man graduating in Ontario had successfully sued his Catholic school board for not allowing him to bring his partner to the prom.

This prompted a short conversation in the van, of general support for the development. I was scared that merely participating in the conversation would out me. It didn't - I shared with those involved in the conversation my happiness for that young man.

He decided not to attend his prom anyways - probably a wise choice given the challenges that this young man would've faced that night. But I, sitting in a van in rural Alberta, was proud of him.

I wish Constance McMillen all the luck in the world.

Read the CBC briefing of Constance McMillen's struggles here.