No fiction this Friday, just some holiday reflections.
I hate to fly. Flying terrifies me. I sit in a tense ball, furtively glancing between the book that’s supposed to distract me and the world whizzing by at 35 thousand feet. But, for once, I was sitting calmly in my seat watching the sunrise. I may have even been humming a Christmas tune.
For the six years previous to this trip, Christmas had been only a lukewarm happiness for me. I’d trapped myself and my ex-husband in a debacle of a marriage doomed to failure. The year before my divorce, my unspoken hostilities combined with the stress of the holidays and an impending move made Christmas 2005 a disaster.
So much rubble lay behind me. In a period of six months, I’d managed to get a divorce and come out of the closet. For the first time in six years, I was filled with a sense of hope and rebirth.
Christmas had been this time that was about trying to fill spiritual holes with material goods, feigned joy over electronics, baked goods and clothing. We merely went through the motions every year because we thought that kept the piece and held us together. But the wedges were silently working, slowly but surely.
During the disastrous Christmas of 05, I remember crying silently in a locked bathroom begging to be normal. Begging for all those thought crimes to go away. Begging to not be who I really am. Insanity assuredly.
The truth of the matter was all I wanted for Christmas was happiness. And, sadly, happiness could never come in the form of an iPod, a Coach purse or a Kitchen Aid mixer. Happiness comes from the heart and mine was so broken all it could produce was bitter acrimony.
I was reflecting over all of this at 35 thousand feet when it occurred to me how freaked out I’d normally be in this situation.
“Curious,” I said in almost a whisper, nearly waking the passenger next to me. But it didn’t take me too long to come to the conclusion that when you live each day feeling trapped in the prison of your own mine, every little thing is a terrifying experience. Merely waking up can feel like being the protagonist in a Stephen King novel.
But I wasn’t trapped any more. My divorce was final. I had come out to all the people that were important. I felt free.
I landed at Reagan National Airport early that afternoon. It was the first time I’d seen my parents since I’d tearfully come out to them on the phone. It happened in a rush and not at all the way I wanted but I had at least told them. I was more than a little nervous about finally seeing them.
But within minutes my mother’s infectious Christmas spirit had washed away any concerns I had and we were slogging through DC traffic planning all the holiday traditions we were going to cram into my brief visit.
I don’t know if it was exhaustion or relief or a combination thereof, but I slept better that night than I had in years. It was the first time I allowed myself to feel that everything really was all right. That whole trip laughter seemed harder, smiles felt like they wound all the way through my body and for the first time in six long years I relaxed. Really relaxed.
I didn’t get a lot of material things that year, but it was truly the richest Christmas I’ve had in memory. I’d started to make new friends here at home, including one who has become my blonde twin. I had the warmth and love of my family. And best of all, I had myself back. What wondrous gifts.
Over the last two years, some of those friends have grown into my chosen family. In fact, they’ve even begun to spend time with my blood family. And as I look forward to this Christmas, I’m giddy with the anticipation of spending my first one with the girlfriend. I’m also looking forward to spending time with some of the gang at GLO. All of that so far eclipses anything that could be purchased in a store.
May you and yours have a most joyous holiday season whatever you may celebrate. I hope to see some of you out at GLO on Christmas Day. The blog will take a little holiday break until the 25th. Best wishes for a joyous holiday!
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Big gay News Leader
Lots of gay talk/bashing in Ye Olde News Leader. Lee Richardson writes in:
Well, at least Lee gets that the Bible doesn't condemn homosexuality. But Lee's interpretation of Corinthians is just that: INTERPRETATION. Sigh. Lee goes on to lament how dare we horrible awful, gays call St. Peter a bigot. No, Lee, we aren't calling St. Peter a bigot. Bigotry comes about through ignorance and your complete ignorance of what it is like to live as a gay person makes it impossible for you to understand what it means to be gay. So, while Lee isn't a bigot, Lee is tragically uninformed and therefore not even in the same zip code as credible.
Moving on, Tammy Webb writes in:
Amen, Tammy. If you happen to be reading this site, drop me a line. We like how you think and would love for you to have more to say right here in this space.
I've long felt we should have the right to have our unions recognized. Frankly, marriage is a religious construct and has no business being sanctioned by the state. In the eyes of the state, all unions should be civil unions. The state shouldn't give a flying fig if I went before a preacher and said a bunch of vows. That's between me and God. All Uncle Sam cares about is taxes, and for tax purposes all he should care about is if I'm filing single or jointly and that should be my choice whether I'm gay, straight or indifferent.
If a business can have partnerships with whomever it pleases the I as an individual should be able to as well.
On another note, I find it fascinating that many religious conservatives have long bashed the gay community for its promiscuity and lack of commitment to relationships. They've long held that up as why homosexuality is wrong. Now that we're asking for our long held relationships to be given the same respect long standing heterosexual relationships are given they suddenly want to protect marriage? Huh.
Hypocrisy much? I think so.
The Bible ... does not condemn homosexuality from the start to the finish. I ask you now, is St. Paul a bigot, is St. Peter a bigot, are all the writers of the Bible bigots who have made it clear that nobody is born a homosexual? It is true some people may have feminine mannerisms or characteristics. That does not make a person a homosexual. Choice makes a person a homosexual.
St. Paul makes it clear in 1st Cor. Chapter 6, verse 9 that homosexuality is punishable by spiritual death.
Well, at least Lee gets that the Bible doesn't condemn homosexuality. But Lee's interpretation of Corinthians is just that: INTERPRETATION. Sigh. Lee goes on to lament how dare we horrible awful, gays call St. Peter a bigot. No, Lee, we aren't calling St. Peter a bigot. Bigotry comes about through ignorance and your complete ignorance of what it is like to live as a gay person makes it impossible for you to understand what it means to be gay. So, while Lee isn't a bigot, Lee is tragically uninformed and therefore not even in the same zip code as credible.
Moving on, Tammy Webb writes in:
I truly believe that if the gay community would not be so pushy on wanting to have it be called a marriage that the rest of this state would be more accepting. Marriage is another word that defines who someone is. It is another label. Just as the words husband and wife are labels. I was told by my late grandma once that only food and clothes should have labels not people. I don't label myself and I don't want anyone else to label me. The fact that who I am is a gay female and the only choice I made was not to live my life as a lie and be true to who I am and who I love I believe it should speak volumes. For anyone else to judge that would make them a hypocrite by any standards of any Christian belief.
I know there will always be judgment from others about what they call my lifestyle choice. I do not judge, and will not, a heterosexual couple for being with the one they love and their lifestyle. I only want the same in return.
Amen, Tammy. If you happen to be reading this site, drop me a line. We like how you think and would love for you to have more to say right here in this space.
I've long felt we should have the right to have our unions recognized. Frankly, marriage is a religious construct and has no business being sanctioned by the state. In the eyes of the state, all unions should be civil unions. The state shouldn't give a flying fig if I went before a preacher and said a bunch of vows. That's between me and God. All Uncle Sam cares about is taxes, and for tax purposes all he should care about is if I'm filing single or jointly and that should be my choice whether I'm gay, straight or indifferent.
If a business can have partnerships with whomever it pleases the I as an individual should be able to as well.
On another note, I find it fascinating that many religious conservatives have long bashed the gay community for its promiscuity and lack of commitment to relationships. They've long held that up as why homosexuality is wrong. Now that we're asking for our long held relationships to be given the same respect long standing heterosexual relationships are given they suddenly want to protect marriage? Huh.
Hypocrisy much? I think so.
Join GLO for Christmas and get a reprieve from the fam
It's just past 4 p.m. and I'm already in my pajamas. It's cold and nasty outside and Mother Nature has decided to not so subtly remind me it's December. And, OMG, Christmas is next freakin' week.
EEK! Ahem.
As that thought wafts through my brain, it occurs to me Tis the Season for your family to drive you insane. Many of us are about to embark on the numerous familial rituals associated with the Yule Tide. I have two family dinners this weekend. On Christmas Eve, I host a family dinner then attend a family dinner on Christmas Day.
While I love my family and enjoy spending time with them, I'm going to be just about familied out by afternoon on Dec. 25. Thankfully, the Gay and Lesbian Community Center for the Ozarks has an escape. Join us starting at 1 p.m. at the GLO Center for a "Family" Christmas dinner. You know, your "family" that is fabulous.
Bring a side dish to share, ham and turkey will be provided. Dinner will be served at 5 p.m. GLO is located at 518 E. Commercial Street.
EEK! Ahem.
As that thought wafts through my brain, it occurs to me Tis the Season for your family to drive you insane. Many of us are about to embark on the numerous familial rituals associated with the Yule Tide. I have two family dinners this weekend. On Christmas Eve, I host a family dinner then attend a family dinner on Christmas Day.
While I love my family and enjoy spending time with them, I'm going to be just about familied out by afternoon on Dec. 25. Thankfully, the Gay and Lesbian Community Center for the Ozarks has an escape. Join us starting at 1 p.m. at the GLO Center for a "Family" Christmas dinner. You know, your "family" that is fabulous.
Bring a side dish to share, ham and turkey will be provided. Dinner will be served at 5 p.m. GLO is located at 518 E. Commercial Street.
Thursday, December 11, 2008
A King's Life, Chapter Two
In the dressing room at the bar, Joe changed into a cowboy ensemble for his first number. It seemed almost required that a king had to do country. Joe wasn’t sure if it was because lesbians liked country music, cowboys or because that style of dress was so manly but it always went over well.
Even the kings who did western badly looked good in their cowpoke gear.
Molly was helping another king tape down. The one time it was totally ok for his girl to touch another girl’s breasts. The kings’ girlfriends were often very supportive. Taping down required two people to pull off. Kings either had their girlfriends assist or assisted one another and, sometimes, allowed girlfriends to assist. They sometimes even helped the queens tape down their unmentionables.
For a couple, drag was often a couple hobby. They shopped together for costumes, helped with makeup and dress. Your girlfriend was also often the person taking care of your music for your numbers. Molly was popular with most of the kings because she never hesitated to pitch in when someone needed help. Joe was ridiculously proud of her.
Joe got the crowd going with Johnny Cash’s “Burning Ring of Fire.” He danced around the stage in tight black jeans, shiny black boots and a big black hat. It was the perfect tribute to the Man in Black.
He was pumped but started trying to focus himself for the second number. He was going to do Bobby Darin’s “Mack the Knife.” He slipped into a suit and Spectator shoes. He capped the whole thing off with a smart fedora.
Joe was the last number in the show, the owners of the bar always trusted him to bring the house down with his last number. The music started and Joe strutted on stage pointing and winking at the gals in the front row.
When lip syncing it’s important to overplay your stage presence. You’re there to perform and entertain. Joe always made certain he knew the words to every song he performed. He was creating the illusion of being a country singer, a crooner or a rocker. But none-the-less you had to sell your act on stage. . He danced, gestured and played to the crowd. It kept them happy and earned him lots of tips.
Joe glided over to the edge of the stage to acknowledge the tip line that had formed. He gave each of the tippers a little wink as they handed over a dollar, but his heart lurched when the last woman walked up. Jenny.
Jenny was a woman who worked in Artisan’s accounting department. Ruth frequently saw her coming and going from the building. Ruth only knew who she was by seeing her employee of the month photo on the break room wall. Ruth never suspected the petite brunette was gay. Jenny was always wearing sweater sets and heels. But as she reflected on it, Ruth chided herself. Not all lesbians fit the stereotype of short hair and mannish clothing. Molly was proof of that.
Joe forced himself back away from Ruth’s thoughts, trying to pull it together. He took Jenny’s dollar and backed away a little quicker than normal. He ended the number without his trademark soft shoe and quickly ducked off stage when the music ended. His mind was reeling.
Molly met him backstage, “Are you ok? You look like you’ve seen a ghost!”
“Jenny Gillespie was out there!”
“Who?”
“A woman I work with,” Joe put his head in his hands.
Molly walked over and put her arm around him, “If she’s here, baby, your secret is likely safe. I’ll bet she’s got the same secret.”
Joe nodded, “I know. But it still makes me really nervous.”
“Why don’t you go talk to her when you work the room?” Molly said smiling.
Joe always worked the room after a show. He went around to thank everyone for coming. Joe figured if the crowd knew you appreciated them, they’d keep coming back. Molly and her friend Linda always joked that Joe was running for office.
Joe kissed Molly’s cheek and headed back out into the bar. After thanking some of the regulars and taking a beer from Linda, Joe spied Jenny sitting with some other women back by the pool tables. He took a good pull of his beer and walked over.
Joe mustered his best crooner persona as he approached their table, “Hello ladies. I wanted to thank you all for comin’ out to the show tonight. We all appreciate new fans in the crowd.” Joe looked directly at Jenny.
Jenny smiled, “I recognize you. I know I’m not supposed to say anything as long as you’re in character.”
Joe laughed and blushed. “I didn’t realize …” he waved a hand dismissively.
Jenny giggled, “That I’m gay? I get that a lot. But where we work I guess I play that up a bit. You’re braver than I am.”
Joe gaped, “You think I’m obvious?”
“Nah. No one’s paying that close attention. I just happen to have gaydar.”
Joe laughed. They talked a little more about feeling stifled at work. Joe groaned about all the straight folk always talking about their spouses and never feeling like he could bring Molly’s name up. He dreaded the company picnic and Christmas party because he couldn’t bring her.
Jenny nodded. “But it’s a good problem to have. I just got out of a relationship a few months ago. This is the first time I’ve been out in ages. Meeting people is so hard.”
Just then, Molly and Linda walked up. “Oh, Jenny this is my partner Molly and our friend Linda.”
Jenny shook Molly’s hand and then Linda’s. Joe noticed their handshake lasted a little longer. He bit back a laugh, Linda was smiling that smile. Linda had been single a bit too. Molly had been trying for months to fix her up with someone. Now someone had possibly fallen right into their laps.
“You’re the president of the Gay Community Center aren’t you?” Jenny asked Linda.
Linda nodded, “Didn’t I see you at Pride a couple of weeks ago?”
Molly grabbed Joe’s elbow, “C’mon,” she said with a wink.
They walked away giggling. “How long is it before Linda notices we left,” Joe asked.
“She won’t,” Molly said with a wink. “Still worried about work?”
“Nah. If anything I feel good. I have someone at the office I can talk about you with now.”
Molly laughed, “And a potential love interest for Linda. Who knew tonight would be so successful?”
“Yeah. Who knew?”
Even the kings who did western badly looked good in their cowpoke gear.
Molly was helping another king tape down. The one time it was totally ok for his girl to touch another girl’s breasts. The kings’ girlfriends were often very supportive. Taping down required two people to pull off. Kings either had their girlfriends assist or assisted one another and, sometimes, allowed girlfriends to assist. They sometimes even helped the queens tape down their unmentionables.
For a couple, drag was often a couple hobby. They shopped together for costumes, helped with makeup and dress. Your girlfriend was also often the person taking care of your music for your numbers. Molly was popular with most of the kings because she never hesitated to pitch in when someone needed help. Joe was ridiculously proud of her.
Joe got the crowd going with Johnny Cash’s “Burning Ring of Fire.” He danced around the stage in tight black jeans, shiny black boots and a big black hat. It was the perfect tribute to the Man in Black.
He was pumped but started trying to focus himself for the second number. He was going to do Bobby Darin’s “Mack the Knife.” He slipped into a suit and Spectator shoes. He capped the whole thing off with a smart fedora.
Joe was the last number in the show, the owners of the bar always trusted him to bring the house down with his last number. The music started and Joe strutted on stage pointing and winking at the gals in the front row.
When lip syncing it’s important to overplay your stage presence. You’re there to perform and entertain. Joe always made certain he knew the words to every song he performed. He was creating the illusion of being a country singer, a crooner or a rocker. But none-the-less you had to sell your act on stage. . He danced, gestured and played to the crowd. It kept them happy and earned him lots of tips.
Joe glided over to the edge of the stage to acknowledge the tip line that had formed. He gave each of the tippers a little wink as they handed over a dollar, but his heart lurched when the last woman walked up. Jenny.
Jenny was a woman who worked in Artisan’s accounting department. Ruth frequently saw her coming and going from the building. Ruth only knew who she was by seeing her employee of the month photo on the break room wall. Ruth never suspected the petite brunette was gay. Jenny was always wearing sweater sets and heels. But as she reflected on it, Ruth chided herself. Not all lesbians fit the stereotype of short hair and mannish clothing. Molly was proof of that.
Joe forced himself back away from Ruth’s thoughts, trying to pull it together. He took Jenny’s dollar and backed away a little quicker than normal. He ended the number without his trademark soft shoe and quickly ducked off stage when the music ended. His mind was reeling.
Molly met him backstage, “Are you ok? You look like you’ve seen a ghost!”
“Jenny Gillespie was out there!”
“Who?”
“A woman I work with,” Joe put his head in his hands.
Molly walked over and put her arm around him, “If she’s here, baby, your secret is likely safe. I’ll bet she’s got the same secret.”
Joe nodded, “I know. But it still makes me really nervous.”
“Why don’t you go talk to her when you work the room?” Molly said smiling.
Joe always worked the room after a show. He went around to thank everyone for coming. Joe figured if the crowd knew you appreciated them, they’d keep coming back. Molly and her friend Linda always joked that Joe was running for office.
Joe kissed Molly’s cheek and headed back out into the bar. After thanking some of the regulars and taking a beer from Linda, Joe spied Jenny sitting with some other women back by the pool tables. He took a good pull of his beer and walked over.
Joe mustered his best crooner persona as he approached their table, “Hello ladies. I wanted to thank you all for comin’ out to the show tonight. We all appreciate new fans in the crowd.” Joe looked directly at Jenny.
Jenny smiled, “I recognize you. I know I’m not supposed to say anything as long as you’re in character.”
Joe laughed and blushed. “I didn’t realize …” he waved a hand dismissively.
Jenny giggled, “That I’m gay? I get that a lot. But where we work I guess I play that up a bit. You’re braver than I am.”
Joe gaped, “You think I’m obvious?”
“Nah. No one’s paying that close attention. I just happen to have gaydar.”
Joe laughed. They talked a little more about feeling stifled at work. Joe groaned about all the straight folk always talking about their spouses and never feeling like he could bring Molly’s name up. He dreaded the company picnic and Christmas party because he couldn’t bring her.
Jenny nodded. “But it’s a good problem to have. I just got out of a relationship a few months ago. This is the first time I’ve been out in ages. Meeting people is so hard.”
Just then, Molly and Linda walked up. “Oh, Jenny this is my partner Molly and our friend Linda.”
Jenny shook Molly’s hand and then Linda’s. Joe noticed their handshake lasted a little longer. He bit back a laugh, Linda was smiling that smile. Linda had been single a bit too. Molly had been trying for months to fix her up with someone. Now someone had possibly fallen right into their laps.
“You’re the president of the Gay Community Center aren’t you?” Jenny asked Linda.
Linda nodded, “Didn’t I see you at Pride a couple of weeks ago?”
Molly grabbed Joe’s elbow, “C’mon,” she said with a wink.
They walked away giggling. “How long is it before Linda notices we left,” Joe asked.
“She won’t,” Molly said with a wink. “Still worried about work?”
“Nah. If anything I feel good. I have someone at the office I can talk about you with now.”
Molly laughed, “And a potential love interest for Linda. Who knew tonight would be so successful?”
“Yeah. Who knew?”
The Duke must go
There’s been a bit of a furor stirred up about Duke McDonald, the gentleman in the City Attorney’s office who has publicly condemned homosexuality. The mudslinging has begun in earnest and I don’t want to add overly to the whole mess.
The bottom line remains, however, that in this country our word of law states that church and state are separate. If Mr. McDonald cannot separate his religious beliefs from his public defender job, he has no business serving in that position and should hang up his shingle in private practice where he’s free to turn away all the business he wants to.
The girlfriend and I had a long discussion and came to the same conclusion: it’s downright dangerous for someone such as McDonald to remain at his post. Imagine either of the following scenarios: a gay man is accused of a murder he did not commit. The public defender does a half-assed job and Mr. Gay is put to death under Missouri law. Worse yet, a serial killer goes on a killing spree and kills ten people. Then, when he gets the same public defender (despite being straight as an arrow) is able to get his case thrown out on the basis of being unable to get a fair trial because he’s being discriminated against for being a homo.
Those two scenarios could easily occur. And, Mr. McDonald, I don’t think God would be very happy with you if you allowed either of those things come to pass.
I hate to admit this, but I believe Roger Ray’s column pretty much states how I feel about the whole religion/sexual orientation debate.
I merely make mention of this whole debacle for two reasons:
1. We as a community need to be aware that sentiment is out there.
2. To point out that I take comfort in the fact that God’s love is greater than Duke McDonald’s hate.
In the end, what folks like McDonald have lost sight of is that God loves us all as we are no matter who we are. God doesn’t hate or discriminate. It’s very sad some of His allegedly most ardent followers can’t grasp that concept.
Just a little food for thought.
The bottom line remains, however, that in this country our word of law states that church and state are separate. If Mr. McDonald cannot separate his religious beliefs from his public defender job, he has no business serving in that position and should hang up his shingle in private practice where he’s free to turn away all the business he wants to.
The girlfriend and I had a long discussion and came to the same conclusion: it’s downright dangerous for someone such as McDonald to remain at his post. Imagine either of the following scenarios: a gay man is accused of a murder he did not commit. The public defender does a half-assed job and Mr. Gay is put to death under Missouri law. Worse yet, a serial killer goes on a killing spree and kills ten people. Then, when he gets the same public defender (despite being straight as an arrow) is able to get his case thrown out on the basis of being unable to get a fair trial because he’s being discriminated against for being a homo.
Those two scenarios could easily occur. And, Mr. McDonald, I don’t think God would be very happy with you if you allowed either of those things come to pass.
I hate to admit this, but I believe Roger Ray’s column pretty much states how I feel about the whole religion/sexual orientation debate.
I merely make mention of this whole debacle for two reasons:
1. We as a community need to be aware that sentiment is out there.
2. To point out that I take comfort in the fact that God’s love is greater than Duke McDonald’s hate.
In the end, what folks like McDonald have lost sight of is that God loves us all as we are no matter who we are. God doesn’t hate or discriminate. It’s very sad some of His allegedly most ardent followers can’t grasp that concept.
Just a little food for thought.
Monday, December 8, 2008
It's not a choice
There’s a song, I’m not sure of the name, but the hook of the song is “I think I’ll be a homosexual, I think I’ll make a frivolous lifestyle choice…”. One of our local drag queens, Marnie Rae Holiday, uses this little ditty to open her show. The song is a pointed piece of sarcasm and while it makes me laugh the song also accomplishes its goal of making me angry.
Nothing works my last gay nerve so much as being told that who I am is a “lifestyle” or a “choice.”
One of the more ridiculous questions I’ve been asked in the relatively short time I’ve been out is, “How do you know you’re gay?” To which I want to respond, “How do you know you’re straight?”
Being gay is not the sum total of my being. I like to write. I like to cook. I have an unnatural fear of pineapple upside down cake. I’m reduced to a puddle of goo in the presence of a kitten or puppy. I’m an avid hockey fan and the Washington Redskins are dead to me, but I still watch their games with one piece of me hopeful. I’m a Christian.
But just as I inherently know all those things about myself, I inherently know that I’m attracted to women.
I was married to a man for six years. I still love him dearly to this day, but I wasn’t in love with him, not the way I love my partner.
I always knew I was some how different. When the other little girls my age were mooning over Luke Skywalker and Han Solo after Star Wars came out, I was secretly kissing a picture of Princess Leia in People Magazine. In high school, I struggled to figure out why I was always mildly jealous of my friends’ boyfriends. I had a boyfriend off and on, but never really knew what I wanted with him. I probably figured out I was gay when I was in my twenties. I had an intense attraction to a female guitar player in a band I went to see regularly. I dismissed it as mere appreciation for her talent, but I was fooling myself.
What’s worse, it wasn’t even as though I was concerned about my parents’ or friends’ reaction to my being gay. I had a number of gay friends. Both of my parents, while somewhat conservative, are very liberal socially. They know gay folks are just folks.
It’s also not as though I lived in a place where I’d be shunned. At the time I was figuring all this out, I lived in the greater Washington, DC area. I wouldn’t have had the first problem being out. But I’m from the Midwest. And while the sorts of “values” that keep gays and lesbians in the closet here weren’t preached in my immediate family, I am well aware of them.
It only made sense then, that I moved back to Springfield and then got a divorce and came out of the closet. That “choice” cost me dearly. I’m unable to be close to one side of my extended family because of their views. I hurt my ex-husband terribly. I lost a home I’d worked hard to achieve. I couldn’t talk about whom I was dating at work. I had to constantly look over my shoulder when I was in public on a date. The only place I could show affection to a lover was at a gay bar or in the confines of home.
People hate and ridicule me without even knowing me. I have to go to great lengths to see that my partner, who is my spouse, can have a fraction of the things she would get if she were my husband should I die. I can lose my job for who I “choose” to love.
Now I ask you, why on Earth would I “choose” that “lifestyle?”
The answer, simply, is I didn’t. Biology or God made me who I am, whichever you choose to believe. There is a lot of public debate regarding whether or not homosexuality is hereditary. Regardless of the scientific evidence those who do not wish to believe will find ways to discount said evidence the way they do evidence of evolution.
To me, it doesn’t truly matter. If there is a God, He or She must see a need for us to be here or we wouldn’t be ten percent of the population. And while I am a Christian, I know evolution is how we got to be where we are and I’m reasonably certain biology did play a major role in who I am.
Before I get the ridiculous question: If we are biologically homosexual why don’t we go extinct since we don’t reproduce? This research explains why.
Further, before I get the flood of email about how I can be a Christian when the Bible says homosexuality is wrong I’ll just go ahead and give you my response and save us both the headache. There are as many interpretations of the Bible as there are Christian denominations. Many of them say very different things. Many contradictions can be found in the Bible itself. Put simply, my beliefs differ from yours. My life is different from yours and I respect that. All I ask is that you do the same for me.
Nothing works my last gay nerve so much as being told that who I am is a “lifestyle” or a “choice.”
One of the more ridiculous questions I’ve been asked in the relatively short time I’ve been out is, “How do you know you’re gay?” To which I want to respond, “How do you know you’re straight?”
Being gay is not the sum total of my being. I like to write. I like to cook. I have an unnatural fear of pineapple upside down cake. I’m reduced to a puddle of goo in the presence of a kitten or puppy. I’m an avid hockey fan and the Washington Redskins are dead to me, but I still watch their games with one piece of me hopeful. I’m a Christian.
But just as I inherently know all those things about myself, I inherently know that I’m attracted to women.
I was married to a man for six years. I still love him dearly to this day, but I wasn’t in love with him, not the way I love my partner.
I always knew I was some how different. When the other little girls my age were mooning over Luke Skywalker and Han Solo after Star Wars came out, I was secretly kissing a picture of Princess Leia in People Magazine. In high school, I struggled to figure out why I was always mildly jealous of my friends’ boyfriends. I had a boyfriend off and on, but never really knew what I wanted with him. I probably figured out I was gay when I was in my twenties. I had an intense attraction to a female guitar player in a band I went to see regularly. I dismissed it as mere appreciation for her talent, but I was fooling myself.
What’s worse, it wasn’t even as though I was concerned about my parents’ or friends’ reaction to my being gay. I had a number of gay friends. Both of my parents, while somewhat conservative, are very liberal socially. They know gay folks are just folks.
It’s also not as though I lived in a place where I’d be shunned. At the time I was figuring all this out, I lived in the greater Washington, DC area. I wouldn’t have had the first problem being out. But I’m from the Midwest. And while the sorts of “values” that keep gays and lesbians in the closet here weren’t preached in my immediate family, I am well aware of them.
It only made sense then, that I moved back to Springfield and then got a divorce and came out of the closet. That “choice” cost me dearly. I’m unable to be close to one side of my extended family because of their views. I hurt my ex-husband terribly. I lost a home I’d worked hard to achieve. I couldn’t talk about whom I was dating at work. I had to constantly look over my shoulder when I was in public on a date. The only place I could show affection to a lover was at a gay bar or in the confines of home.
People hate and ridicule me without even knowing me. I have to go to great lengths to see that my partner, who is my spouse, can have a fraction of the things she would get if she were my husband should I die. I can lose my job for who I “choose” to love.
Now I ask you, why on Earth would I “choose” that “lifestyle?”
The answer, simply, is I didn’t. Biology or God made me who I am, whichever you choose to believe. There is a lot of public debate regarding whether or not homosexuality is hereditary. Regardless of the scientific evidence those who do not wish to believe will find ways to discount said evidence the way they do evidence of evolution.
To me, it doesn’t truly matter. If there is a God, He or She must see a need for us to be here or we wouldn’t be ten percent of the population. And while I am a Christian, I know evolution is how we got to be where we are and I’m reasonably certain biology did play a major role in who I am.
Before I get the ridiculous question: If we are biologically homosexual why don’t we go extinct since we don’t reproduce? This research explains why.
Further, before I get the flood of email about how I can be a Christian when the Bible says homosexuality is wrong I’ll just go ahead and give you my response and save us both the headache. There are as many interpretations of the Bible as there are Christian denominations. Many of them say very different things. Many contradictions can be found in the Bible itself. Put simply, my beliefs differ from yours. My life is different from yours and I respect that. All I ask is that you do the same for me.
Sunday, December 7, 2008
Dykes with forks: Samurai Sausage
In the holiday rush, the girlfriend and I did a lot of dining out this weekend (PLEASE, spare me the eating out jokes). And, as usual, our gastronomic forays were blogworthy.
Saturday morning, we stopped at the Montgomery Truck Stop. This place makes no pretension about being anything other than what it is: a greasy spoon. I am an enormous fan of the greasy spoon. And while Montgomery’s isn’t big on ambiance, the food is good and cheap.
I mentioned ambiance. The ambiance in Montgomery’s Saturday involved a gentleman who liked ventilation … in his pants. As I gulped a cup of coffee to bring myself out of my morning coma, this guy stands up and makes something of a show of adjusting himself out of the booth. As he did so, the enormous hole in the crotch of his jeans gave me a glimpse of sausage and I’m not talking about Jimmy Dean.
Oh. Ew. Thankfully, I have a strong constitution and was able to put the little exhibitionist out of my mind. Ahem.
At lunch time, we needed a quick bite and a co-worker had mentioned Samurai Sam’s out on Republic Rd. We happened to be out there, so we ducked in to check it out.
The official Dykes With Forks verdict? Don’t waste your money. The Teriyaki sauce on the chicken yaki soba bowl had an odd smoke aftertaste to it and the egg roll had clearly been microwaved. I would have done better to have purchased frozen egg rolls and a Healthy Choice Steamer at Wal Mart. At least that cardboard concoction would be a little tastier.
Got some place you want us to review? Want to write your own send up of a dining establishment? Send me an email or drop me a line in the comments!
Saturday morning, we stopped at the Montgomery Truck Stop. This place makes no pretension about being anything other than what it is: a greasy spoon. I am an enormous fan of the greasy spoon. And while Montgomery’s isn’t big on ambiance, the food is good and cheap.
I mentioned ambiance. The ambiance in Montgomery’s Saturday involved a gentleman who liked ventilation … in his pants. As I gulped a cup of coffee to bring myself out of my morning coma, this guy stands up and makes something of a show of adjusting himself out of the booth. As he did so, the enormous hole in the crotch of his jeans gave me a glimpse of sausage and I’m not talking about Jimmy Dean.
Oh. Ew. Thankfully, I have a strong constitution and was able to put the little exhibitionist out of my mind. Ahem.
At lunch time, we needed a quick bite and a co-worker had mentioned Samurai Sam’s out on Republic Rd. We happened to be out there, so we ducked in to check it out.
The official Dykes With Forks verdict? Don’t waste your money. The Teriyaki sauce on the chicken yaki soba bowl had an odd smoke aftertaste to it and the egg roll had clearly been microwaved. I would have done better to have purchased frozen egg rolls and a Healthy Choice Steamer at Wal Mart. At least that cardboard concoction would be a little tastier.
Got some place you want us to review? Want to write your own send up of a dining establishment? Send me an email or drop me a line in the comments!
Friday, December 5, 2008
Springfield's World AIDS Day Ceremony Heckled by Jingle Bells
This past Monday, Dec. 1, was World AIDS Day. Each year, all over the globe, people gather to remember those lost to the AIDS epidemic as well as reenergize efforts to fighting the disease. AIDS Project of the Ozarks hosts Springfield’s commemoration. The last two years the event has been held on the Square.
The event is a candlelight vigil where hymns are sung, prayers are said and sobering statistics are disbursed. This year, APO also had the good fortune to have a piece of the AIDS quilt. Ordinarily, it’s a moving memorial.
This year, it was marred by the bad taste of what, I’m assuming, was the City of Springfield. Yes, it’s Christmas. And yes, we all want to celebrate and be merry. But I would think that whomever was responsible for the enormous lit “tree” that belched loud and raucous Christmas Carols all through the ceremony could have at least bothered to turn it off for APO’s hour long event.
The upshot was struggling to hear the speakers and straining to make out our own hymns while “Jingle Bells” tore through Park Central Square like a drunk elephant. It was a testament to patience that the group attending the vigil made it through without running amok and unplugging the ghastly thing.
AIDS effects all people. Even if one does not suffer from the disease one can be directly impacted by AIDS, whether gay or straight. Next year, I cordially ask for far more respect than we were shown this year.
The event is a candlelight vigil where hymns are sung, prayers are said and sobering statistics are disbursed. This year, APO also had the good fortune to have a piece of the AIDS quilt. Ordinarily, it’s a moving memorial.
This year, it was marred by the bad taste of what, I’m assuming, was the City of Springfield. Yes, it’s Christmas. And yes, we all want to celebrate and be merry. But I would think that whomever was responsible for the enormous lit “tree” that belched loud and raucous Christmas Carols all through the ceremony could have at least bothered to turn it off for APO’s hour long event.
The upshot was struggling to hear the speakers and straining to make out our own hymns while “Jingle Bells” tore through Park Central Square like a drunk elephant. It was a testament to patience that the group attending the vigil made it through without running amok and unplugging the ghastly thing.
AIDS effects all people. Even if one does not suffer from the disease one can be directly impacted by AIDS, whether gay or straight. Next year, I cordially ask for far more respect than we were shown this year.
A King's Life, Chapter One - Fiction for your Friday
I’m celebrating my old pal Doc Holiday’s victory as Mr. Central Midwest US 0f A MI last night. The following is chapter one of an homage to Doc. Chapter two will follow a little later as well as an interview with Doc himself on life being a drag in a good way.
A King’s Life – Chapter One
By Les Bian
“Thank you for calling Artisan Healthcare. How may I assist you?” Ruth breathed into the phone, trying to mask her exhaustion. Thankfully, it was the end of the workday and she knew this would be her last call. It was also the end of the week and she was excited for her weekend.
Ruth pulled her focus back to the caller who was droning on about how the insurance company was repeatedly kicking a claim back to him that his policy said was covered. Her fingers worked over the keyboard, punching up his account. A few more keystrokes, and she was into the claim in question.
Scanning through line by line, she quickly discovered the problem. “I see the problem, sir. The doctor’s office entered the wrong code on your claim. I’ve made the correction and re-submitted for you. You shouldn’t have a problem, but please call us back if you do.”
The caller thanked her and hung up. Ruth set about shutting her system down for the night. She placed her headset in its cradle, arranged all her pens neatly in their cup, straightened her blotter and keyboard cord. She was as fastidious about her desk as she was detail-oriented about her claims review.
She stood and put on her coat and left her cube, switching off the light. With each step she took away from that cube, she took a step away from her business day persona. It was Friday, and it was time for her to begin her transformation from Ruth Green to Joe Rider.
She may have been a meek insurance claims representative weekdays, but on the weekends she was a sexy drag king. No one at work knew about her “double” life. No one knew about her girlfriend, Molly or her constant trips to thrift stores for costumes.
Ruth had no personal pictures on her desk and kept her office conversation to the topics of weather and policy auditing. It grated on her nerves that her straight colleagues could have pictures and talk about their spouses. But, the company she worked for didn’t have a sexual orientation clause in their non-discrimination policy. One could never be too careful.
Arriving home, Ruth hung her keys on the key holder next to the front door. Molly came out of their kitchen smiling, “Hey baby! You ready for tonight?”
Ruth smiled and wrapped her arms around Molly’s waist, leaning down to kiss her. “Yep, I sure am darlin’,” she drawled, using Joe’s stage voice. They both laughed.
“I pulled your kit out. The clothes for both numbers are in there and I put out the mechanic’s outfit to wear over to the bar,” Molly said as she walked back toward the kitchen. “I warmed up some of the leftover chili for supper too.”
“You’re too good to me,” Ruth said with a smile.
She had started doing drag a few months after she and Molly had gotten together. Ruth had always been a shy, unassuming woman. She was overly quiet and slow to warm up to new people. Molly practically had to hit Ruth over the head to get her to realize Molly was interested. They met at a drag show.
In their smallish college town, that’s where you went to meet other lesbians. Well, you went to the gay bars but there was almost always a drag show involved at any one of them. Ruth always enjoyed the shows, but couldn’t help but think she could do better than the kings she saw weekly on stage.
The first time she put on a cowboy hat and facial hair together she felt like an entirely different person. And Joe was different from Ruth. Joe was smooth, confident and always smiling. He could dance a jig or do a passable soft shoe. Joe was a born entertainer.
After dinner, Ruth took a shower and then began her physical transformation. After protectively covering her nipples with Bandaids, Molly used duct tape to strap Ruth’s breasts down. Ruth pulled on a tank top to cover the tape. The whole endeavor not only hid her breasts but also created the appearance of male pectoral muscles.
After drying her hair, she used gel to shape her closely cropped blond hair into a more masculine style. Then it was time to put on makeup. It seemed odd to be putting cosmetics on as a male impersonator, but the stage lights washed you out and an Adam’s apple had to be shaded in.
Ruth reached for a small container of hair clippings and her tube of spirit gum. She had her hairstylist save her hair clippings every haircut. Ruth spent a good deal of time, watching television and chopping her hair clippings up to a smaller, finer texture. Some kings bought facial hair or simply drew it on with makeup. Ruth thought it looked more natural to use her own hair. This was, after all, about creating the illusion of being a real man.
She began the laborious process of creating a goatee and sideburns. Twenty minutes later, all traces of Ruth were gone. Joe was the person staring back from the mirror.
Joe made his way to the bedroom to change into his “arrival” clothes. Some of the kings showed up to the bar in their street clothes. Joe thought this destroyed the magic they all worked to create on stage. When you got to the performance site you should be who you’re going to be for the rest of the night. The audience was there to see Joe, not Ruth who becomes Joe.
Joe found the clothes neatly arranged on the bed. Molly was always supportive and entirely helpful of Joe’s drag performances, except for one thing. Joe’s package wasn’t with the gear. Joe laughed. Molly had a phobia of the silicone prosthetic device Joe wore to make his jeans fit like a man’s jeans were supposed to fit.
“I’m with a woman because I want to be with a woman. I don’t like penis real or imagined,” Molly said the day Joe’s soft pack arrived. She refused to touch it.
Joe found it in the rolling kit box he took with him to his shows. It was full of everything from spare facial hair to Super Glue. He grabbed the dick and arranged it carefully in the front of his boxer briefs.
He slipped into his jeans, ripped thermal and mechanic’s work shirt. A mesh backed baseball cap, work boots and a chain wallet completed the look.
“Looks good, honey,” Molly said from the door.
Joe smiled.
A King’s Life – Chapter One
By Les Bian
“Thank you for calling Artisan Healthcare. How may I assist you?” Ruth breathed into the phone, trying to mask her exhaustion. Thankfully, it was the end of the workday and she knew this would be her last call. It was also the end of the week and she was excited for her weekend.
Ruth pulled her focus back to the caller who was droning on about how the insurance company was repeatedly kicking a claim back to him that his policy said was covered. Her fingers worked over the keyboard, punching up his account. A few more keystrokes, and she was into the claim in question.
Scanning through line by line, she quickly discovered the problem. “I see the problem, sir. The doctor’s office entered the wrong code on your claim. I’ve made the correction and re-submitted for you. You shouldn’t have a problem, but please call us back if you do.”
The caller thanked her and hung up. Ruth set about shutting her system down for the night. She placed her headset in its cradle, arranged all her pens neatly in their cup, straightened her blotter and keyboard cord. She was as fastidious about her desk as she was detail-oriented about her claims review.
She stood and put on her coat and left her cube, switching off the light. With each step she took away from that cube, she took a step away from her business day persona. It was Friday, and it was time for her to begin her transformation from Ruth Green to Joe Rider.
She may have been a meek insurance claims representative weekdays, but on the weekends she was a sexy drag king. No one at work knew about her “double” life. No one knew about her girlfriend, Molly or her constant trips to thrift stores for costumes.
Ruth had no personal pictures on her desk and kept her office conversation to the topics of weather and policy auditing. It grated on her nerves that her straight colleagues could have pictures and talk about their spouses. But, the company she worked for didn’t have a sexual orientation clause in their non-discrimination policy. One could never be too careful.
Arriving home, Ruth hung her keys on the key holder next to the front door. Molly came out of their kitchen smiling, “Hey baby! You ready for tonight?”
Ruth smiled and wrapped her arms around Molly’s waist, leaning down to kiss her. “Yep, I sure am darlin’,” she drawled, using Joe’s stage voice. They both laughed.
“I pulled your kit out. The clothes for both numbers are in there and I put out the mechanic’s outfit to wear over to the bar,” Molly said as she walked back toward the kitchen. “I warmed up some of the leftover chili for supper too.”
“You’re too good to me,” Ruth said with a smile.
She had started doing drag a few months after she and Molly had gotten together. Ruth had always been a shy, unassuming woman. She was overly quiet and slow to warm up to new people. Molly practically had to hit Ruth over the head to get her to realize Molly was interested. They met at a drag show.
In their smallish college town, that’s where you went to meet other lesbians. Well, you went to the gay bars but there was almost always a drag show involved at any one of them. Ruth always enjoyed the shows, but couldn’t help but think she could do better than the kings she saw weekly on stage.
The first time she put on a cowboy hat and facial hair together she felt like an entirely different person. And Joe was different from Ruth. Joe was smooth, confident and always smiling. He could dance a jig or do a passable soft shoe. Joe was a born entertainer.
After dinner, Ruth took a shower and then began her physical transformation. After protectively covering her nipples with Bandaids, Molly used duct tape to strap Ruth’s breasts down. Ruth pulled on a tank top to cover the tape. The whole endeavor not only hid her breasts but also created the appearance of male pectoral muscles.
After drying her hair, she used gel to shape her closely cropped blond hair into a more masculine style. Then it was time to put on makeup. It seemed odd to be putting cosmetics on as a male impersonator, but the stage lights washed you out and an Adam’s apple had to be shaded in.
Ruth reached for a small container of hair clippings and her tube of spirit gum. She had her hairstylist save her hair clippings every haircut. Ruth spent a good deal of time, watching television and chopping her hair clippings up to a smaller, finer texture. Some kings bought facial hair or simply drew it on with makeup. Ruth thought it looked more natural to use her own hair. This was, after all, about creating the illusion of being a real man.
She began the laborious process of creating a goatee and sideburns. Twenty minutes later, all traces of Ruth were gone. Joe was the person staring back from the mirror.
Joe made his way to the bedroom to change into his “arrival” clothes. Some of the kings showed up to the bar in their street clothes. Joe thought this destroyed the magic they all worked to create on stage. When you got to the performance site you should be who you’re going to be for the rest of the night. The audience was there to see Joe, not Ruth who becomes Joe.
Joe found the clothes neatly arranged on the bed. Molly was always supportive and entirely helpful of Joe’s drag performances, except for one thing. Joe’s package wasn’t with the gear. Joe laughed. Molly had a phobia of the silicone prosthetic device Joe wore to make his jeans fit like a man’s jeans were supposed to fit.
“I’m with a woman because I want to be with a woman. I don’t like penis real or imagined,” Molly said the day Joe’s soft pack arrived. She refused to touch it.
Joe found it in the rolling kit box he took with him to his shows. It was full of everything from spare facial hair to Super Glue. He grabbed the dick and arranged it carefully in the front of his boxer briefs.
He slipped into his jeans, ripped thermal and mechanic’s work shirt. A mesh backed baseball cap, work boots and a chain wallet completed the look.
“Looks good, honey,” Molly said from the door.
Joe smiled.
Eulogizing the Whistle Pig
The rodent had to die so I might live. Some of you will get that joke, others are left scratching your heads. Just think of that statement as you would the enigmatic “33” on the back of a Rolling Rock bottle. It’s either an inside joke or clever marketing disguised as one.
Welcome to Gay Life in the Queen City! This site will be part blog and part review and sometimes part pulp fiction. We’ll discuss bars, dining, drag, Pride, how to survive being gay in the Bible Belt. On occasion some poetry and fiction may make its way in. In other words, the out and out lies will be labeled as such.
GLQC will also be a forum. We want to hear from you, either by email or in the comments. Know of a new hot spot? Have happy things to say about one of your favorite haunts? Have cranky things to say about a place? Let us know. We’re also open to contributors.
We also suspect that there may be visitors to this site who take issue with those of us who are gay. You are entitled to your opinions and beliefs. I will, however, caution you that if you lurk on this site to gay bash I strongly suspect the Peanut Gallery here will bash right back. Really, the best place for gay bashers is on the Freepers’ site. The only flamers we want here are too fabulous for such nonsense.
Welcome to Gay Life in the Queen City! This site will be part blog and part review and sometimes part pulp fiction. We’ll discuss bars, dining, drag, Pride, how to survive being gay in the Bible Belt. On occasion some poetry and fiction may make its way in. In other words, the out and out lies will be labeled as such.
GLQC will also be a forum. We want to hear from you, either by email or in the comments. Know of a new hot spot? Have happy things to say about one of your favorite haunts? Have cranky things to say about a place? Let us know. We’re also open to contributors.
We also suspect that there may be visitors to this site who take issue with those of us who are gay. You are entitled to your opinions and beliefs. I will, however, caution you that if you lurk on this site to gay bash I strongly suspect the Peanut Gallery here will bash right back. Really, the best place for gay bashers is on the Freepers’ site. The only flamers we want here are too fabulous for such nonsense.
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