The Power of One

While attending a local meeting the other day to discuss LGBT civil rights here in my hometown of Tulsa, OK, a participant related a story about a firefighter she knew in a small town nearby. This firefighter had been married for some ten years and had a couple of kids. He got along well with his co-workers and appeared to be part of the community. After years of fitting in, he decided he could no longer continue to live a lie. He was gay. His co-workers were shocked and threatened to beat him up. Needless to say, he no longer works in that town.

This story reminded me of another story that my 14-year-old daughter told me. Her eighth grade English class had been assigned to read “The Lord of the Flies”. In preparation, they divided into four groups and were each given a list of twenty fictitious people with various skills and characteristics. They had to decide as a group which of the twenty people would live and which would die. One of the people on the list was a gay man. Immediately, a jockish member of the group suggested killing him off and other members of the group were quick to agree, all but one. My daughter pointed out that the gay man was on the verge of graduating from medical school. None of the other people on the list had any medical training. The smart thing to do would be to save the almost-doctor who just happened to be gay.

As it turned out, her group was the only one that did not kill off the gay doctor. After completing the exercise, the teacher berated the class for killing off someone with such valuable skills. I’m sure it was a valuable lesson for some, if not all, of the students on how dangerous an unreasoning hatred of gay people can be.

As I told the people in the LGBT civil rights meeting, sometimes it only takes one person speaking out to get others to see the light. Had just one of those firefighters said “Hey, this guy is our friend,” then surely some others would have gone along with him. If no one is willing to speak, then a mob mentality ensues. Adults begin to act like middle-schoolers, afraid of being different, of not being part of the crowd.

So I ask you, both you gay people and you straight people who know us, are you adults or are you still stuck in your pre-teen years? Who among you is brave enough to speak out for LGBT people?

Shoe Unfortunately Misses Bush’s Face or What is Hate? Part II

I’m sure by now you’ve all seen the incident of the Iraqi reporter throwing his shoes at Bush. What a fine example of hate! And what an appropriate target. Below is my favorite version of the incident, complete with Disney music.

I have seen this incident countless times now, but every time I watch it, I find myself thinking, “Gosh, if only that first shoe had hit him in the face”. That would have been so incredibly funny. I can see it happening quite clearly, and my disappointment that it didn’t is palpable.

So I curse Bush’s ability to duck which, after 8 years in office, seems to be the only thing he can do competently. When I watch this and laugh, it is with bitterness rather than the belly-shaking sort of laughter that would spew forth had the shoe actually connected.

Is this hate on my part? Yes, I would say so. But already this story is a bit of history. It does me no good to dwell on it. What’s done is done. All I can do is count down the days ’til this prick leaves office. But then what do I have to look forward to?

In keeping with my new resolve to try to do positive things, my partner and I attended a ‘Change’ meeting at the Tulsa Democratic Party office. It was crowded and we both immediately felt uncomfortable. Perhaps it is because we find the whole political process disgusting. I know I’m not really cut out to be an activist, at least not in the sense of working with the powers-that-be. The word that keeps popping into my head lately is “mainstream”. It’s like everyone is part of this stupid herd, but I’m standing way over on the side shouting for equal marriage rights. And no one hears me.

We ended up leaving early, of course, but I’m glad we went. My partner stood up at one point and talked about how schizophrenic gay people in this country felt on election day. Had she not mentioned it, the words gay or lesbian would probably not have been heard in that meeting at all. We are aware of how many Democrats voted for the gay marriage ban in Oklahoma in 2004. Quite a fucking few.

What the Democrats fail to realize is that a hell of a lot of LGBT people in these here parts vote Republican. And why shouldn’t they? Sure, some of them are racist pigs. Some might be fiscal conservatives. But what has the Democratic party really done for us?

So if Oklahoma Democrats want this red state to vote a bit bluer four years from now, they might want to think about why Okies hate homosexuals so much. As for me, I doubt I will still be living here in 2012 because I’m reaching the point where I really can’t stand it anymore. Or actually, I’m a bit beyond it. Maybe I will try volunteering at my local pride center. It’s the one place in town where I feel like I am me.

What is Hate? Part I

I’ve been very busy this last month and have not felt like writing because I’ve been listening/reading and thinking, something I would advise all Americans to do a bit more of. Hell, foreigners, too. We’re all one big global community. Aren’t we? Children of god, so to speak.

Yeah, I know I said I wasn’t going to hate anymore. But just the other day I was driving home from my crap job in Broken Arrow and what should I see but a couple of Mormon missionaries. They were riding bicycles and wearing heavy coats because it was a very cold day, but even without the telltale short-sleeve white shirts visible, I knew them for what they were immediately.

In the 13-some years I have been back in Oklahoma (which I am ashamed to call my home state), I have only seen Mormon missionaries on one other occasion and that was about six or seven years ago. I pointed them out to the kids so they would know what they looked like, but, of course, that is as far as it went.

This time, though, without really thinking about it, I rolled down the window and shouted “F*ck you” at them. I’m not sure if they heard me because a bitter wind was blowing and my voice isn’t very loud, but the one in the lead looked up at me. He had dark brown hair and dark brown puppy-dog eyes. A very handsome young man, indeed. And I thought, ‘my god, he’s just a kid, eighteen-years old, just a year older than my eldest daughter’. For a moment, I felt absolutely awful. What if someone did that to my kid? Of course, she’s not traveling door-to-door trying to convert people to her own particular way of thinking. So I think she’s safe (ignoring, for the moment, the fact that she’s a woman living in a country where everybody owns guns).

Whether he heard my words or not, I could tell by the look in his eyes that he certainly registered my intent. And I’ll bet he knew I was a lesbian, too, so this wasn’t some random “Mormon-bashing” but the results of a California ballot initiative spreading to the darkest recesses of this “great nation”.

I discussed the incident with my partner that evening, and she said I did the right thing. By that time, I had already concluded that I had, or at least, that, if time went backward and the situation happened again, that was the only possible way I could react. Like I said, I didn’t have time to think about it. I saw the two missionaries and acted on instinct, knowing it might be years before I got another chance.

So what is hate? Is it something dark that hides in our bellies and spews forth at the slightest provocation? Yeah, that might be it. Is it rational? I don’t think so. Does it come out of nowhere or is there some underlying cause, something we might not be aware of on the surface but that festers inside of us like a malignant tumor? And is it so little understood that we might be tempted to give it other names? Yes, I think it is. Some of us might even call it love.

To be continued….