A friend referred me to this story in the Salt Lake Tribune. Allegedly, Elder Bruce C. Hafen, a member of the First Quorum of the Seventy, thinks that ‘Satan’ makes you gay. I say ‘Satan’ in parenthesis because I’m a big flaming bisexual agnostic. However, I will capitalize because “Satan” is a proper noun.
After you stop shaking your head at the sheer ridiculousness of the above, you can sit back and enjoy a bizarre video by St. Vincent…
I watched this documentary the other night called “Prom Night in Kansas City.” It focused on the prom in the surrounding high schools of Kansas City. There was the school in Kansas City, there was this Christian/Mormon School and then there was the Gay Prom. I was convinced the gay prom kids were probably going to make me cry, but they didn’t. Though I did love the gay girls they interviewed, one of them was just fucking awesome. At the end of the film they interviewed the students two years later, the gay chic was like “yeah, I dated some of the girls from that Catholic school, they were some of the wildest girls I’ve ever dated!” I totally wanted to hi-five, or make-out with her… okay, maybe both. The Catholic school made me sad for them. They didn’t have a typical Prom, it was called a ‘Senior Banquet’ and there was no dancing allowed.. which sounds like a whole heap o’ fun – my prom date should’ve gone there and I should’ve went to that Throwing Muses show that was the same night as my prom (I found out after we bought the tickets to the prom.) True, no one would’ve danced with me there either, but it was probably more fun than my prom date who didn’t want to dance. He was kind of a passive-aggressive, self-centered asshole.. that’s the short version of the story.
I dated him for eight months of my life I can never get back. I guess there may have been some good times thrown into those eight months, prom was SO not one of them. I had my period, which just sucked to begin with. But I thought, I got this pretty dress, a date (!) and I just wanted to kick back and have a good time after months of the stress of being a high school senior, worrying about life after high school, dating a self-centered asshole, and a life time of crazy over-protective parents who never let me do anything. Not to mention, this was something I had looked forward to when I started high school. As someone pointed out in “Prom Night in Kansas City,” prom is a little like a wedding. There is so much anticipation leading up to it. And its one of the thing girls dream of, well that and their wedding. The movie says that the prom is a common-folks debutante ball.
I wasn’t really popular so not going to the prom just seemed to reinforce that. I’m not sure I cared so much about being popular, but I did care about those nights I left school dances alone, just like I arrived. I’d go home, put on some good music and sometimes lay on my bedroom floor full of music, life, energy and no one to love me back. I’m the girl who just wanted someone to dance with her.. and maybe give her flowers for no reason – that came way later, like when I was 25.
My school didn’t really do many formal dances. Our homecoming wasn’t formal. I went to my Freshman Formal with a friend, and his girl went with one of her friends and caused so much drama that night, that the event really lost the fun-factor. I never went to the formal Junior dances. I went to the formal Christmas dance senior year and none of my friends went, it was me and my date at a table full of people I didn’t care to hang out with. We left early because it was the same guy I went to the prom with. I really should’ve learnt my lesson, but I didn’t. I wanted to go to my prom! I wanted to be like those girls in the fashion magazines all dolled up with a handsome guy on one arm and a dozen roses on the other. I know it sounds silly – maybe I’m a romantic fool! I’ve never been like most people – most times I don’t mind. But, I wanted to be just like every other girl, even for one night. I wanted to dance and feel like Cinderella, even if they were playing the 80′s hair-band Cinderella. Watching the movie and seeing all those kids dancing and having a good time with their dates made me feel like, shit, I would’ve liked that! That must be what its like to go to a formal occasion, with a date and actually have fun with your date!
I had to wait 25 years to get a dozen roses for no reason.. looks like I’ll have to wait a bit longer to get someone to want to dance with me.
“…the court upheld Proposition 8, keeping in place the constitutional ban on marriage equality in the Golden State. As for the thousands of couples married last year before Prop 8 passed, they will remain married in the eyes of the law.” – Human Rights Campaign
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I suppose the righteous right would love to call me depraved. In the 1950′s they would’ve told me that I can again be “straight,” much like in the movie “but I’m a Cheerleader.” They may have sent me to some sort of pseudo-scientist to cure me of what allegedly ails me. That alleged ailment being that I am bisexual. I don’t have an ailment, I’m not going through a phase… its a part of me. I won’t try to change it. I will love who I love. And I will fight for the same rights as everyone else to live as I chose, to love whom I chose, to marry and have children with whom I chose. The righteous right winged may call my desires a threat to the sanctity of marriage. I would tell them to check the divorce rates and the amount of people cheating on their spouses. Then, tell me about your “sanctity of marriage” and marriage being defined as “one man to one woman.”
While we are talking about the privilege of being married, I’d like to ask those that so adamantly are against anyone but heterosexuals marrying, what is it to them? How truly would it affect your day if any adult could marry who they damn well choose? Its not like we’re going to be throwing a big gay wedding on your front lawn. How would they like it if the government didn’t acknowledging their spouse as their spouse? Meaning there are a laundry list of things that you will no longer be privy to, such as getting benefits of said spouse, even if they die. Speaking of tragedies, if your partner ends up in a hospital that doesn’t bother to recognize you as a couple because you are not “married” in the eyes of the law, you may not be visiting your loved one without permission of their family, if your lucky.
I don’t understand anyone who could look themselves in the mirror knowing full-well that they are preventing people from their rights as American Citizens, just because. You disgust me, and you should be ashamed of yourselves. Though I know your pretty damn proud of yourselves. You know, Pride is a sin according to your almighty jesus who you claim this is all about…
But please don’t put god or jesus into this, because you know what? I went to Catechism classes from grades 1-12. I had the jesus stories force fed down my throat and the ten commandments every single year, along with the holy this, that and the other thing. And at no point during all the years I was forced to the jesus classes did they ever mention that one should treat someone like less of a person, because they were of a different race, religion, or sexual orientation. Maybe my Catechism was different but, I do believe the Christian religion taught me to be tolerant, loving, honest, and to treat everyone as equals. So there goes your theory that “God doesn’t like gays.”
My ex-girlfriend didn’t like holding my hand in public. I believe it was a combination of fear of being seen as gay, and the fact that her family didn’t like the fact that she was dating a woman. Guilt and fear. I’m sure there are plenty who have or are in this predicament. This is no way to live, in fear of showing the world who you love. Like rebels of past who stood against opposition, I will protest, I will stand up on my soapbox, blog, or my own front lawn and proclaim that we deserve equal rights! You can curse us, invoke the name of your god, but you won’t beat us down because we aren’t going away!
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interesting and helpful links:
article from USA today “Women’s bisexuality an ‘identity,’ not phase”:
I awake this morning to the DJ’s on HJY talking about how today is “national call in gay day” fuck, I totally forgot about it! And I can’t call in, well I could but I’d lose my job not for being gay but for calling in minus getting a replacement to work for me. This is a great concept for people who can afford to do so – I took one for the team a long time ago when I got fired for telling the assistant manager at a local restaurant that I wouldn’t go out with him because I preferred women. Also I prefer men who are not womanizers or who will go after anything with a vagina and breasts – I didn’t tell him that – but that is what he was. At the time that is how I felt, I wanted to be with a woman. Now, I want to be with someone who rocks my world… “I’m holding out for a spaceman…” to quote Belly.
For the longest time I had lived a semi-sheltered life when it came to the gay community. I grew up in a Catholic family whose goals for a girl was finishing high school, maybe college, then marriage and start a family. I have two third cousins that family members speculate are both gay; there’s been no confirmation from either party. One is probably more obviously so than the other. She is stereotypically butch: flannel shirts, never seen her in a dress, short hair, can probably lift twice her body weight, she walks with a swagger. She also lives with a ‘friend.’ Yet I until I was older I never really thought “lesbian” when I seen her. I knew she was different, but I didn’t understand the whispers that she was a “dyke.” I understood her to be a like a grown up tomboy. I don’t envy her, she basically lives in the closet, back when she was a young woman that was most likely the way. Her ‘friend’ is always present for big family gatherings, but everyone refers to this woman as her ‘friend,’ not her ‘girlfriend.’ Its like a dirty secret.
When I was about ten, I seen my first John Waters movie, I believe it was “Pink Flamingos.” While I understood ‘Divine’ was a man dressed like a woman, what I didn’t understand is that some people don’t do this for entertainment, its just who they are. I managed to get to see this movie because my aunt, Lisa, would babysit myself and my uncle, Brian, (who is older than me by three years) while our parents went out on Saturday nights. The VCR was the best invention ever! We got to watch all those movies that our parents would never let us watch. Sometimes, Lisa would just put the movie on for us and leave the room, never really knowing what we were watching! Though for the John Waters movie, we all gathered in my grandparents’ living room to take in the event. We knew this one was special. And special it was.
I seen many movies over the years that I was probably too young to understand. Brian and I really enjoyed the ones that involved things like gore and nudity, the more the merrier! Though I never seen any more movies involving characters in drag or ones that were gay until I was in about tenth grade. That was the first time I saw “Rocky Horror Picture Show.” I didn’t really know any one, at the time, that openly identified with the GLBTQ community. My friends mentioned that there were gay innuendoes and transvestites in the movie; I was half expecting a free-for-all-orgie with some guy dressed in drag. My friend Michelle popped the movie in the VCR one night while we were hanging out after I confessed to never have seen it. I eventually became as obsessed with it as my friends and learnt all the words to most of the songs. I never seen it performed live like some of my friends had. They would go every weekend to a local theater to see it performed. There were vague plans to go, but no one ever agreed to go with me. Instead I was part of a performance of “Time Warp” with some friends in twelfth grade for our school talent show. Some of the audience did the “Time Warp” right along with us. I wanted to be Magenta, I have the hair for it, but my friend Trisha owned a maid’s costume and I didn’t. I got to be one of the dancers. I dyed my hair with red Kool-aid for the performance.
I suppose the movie did have some impact on my life because by the time I was in my late 20′s and attended my first PRIDE the only thing that wasn’t culture shock was the drag queens. I had seen Tim Curry in heels and garters singing “sweet transvestite,” drag queens seemed completely normal. By then, I understood that identifying with the opposite sex isn’t always for entertainment purposes. However, seeing thousands of gays, lesbians and bisexuals made me realize it wasn’t just my small circle of friends! I had to force myself not to stare and not seem like a tourist, though I felt like I had entered another universe upon walking through the rainbow arches set up in Station Park in 2003. I recall feeling rather overwhelmed by it all. I also had a small fear of getting stabbed or shot; we were all so out in the open where everyone could clearly tell what a bunch of homos we were! That first time I went with my two best friends. We wandered around for about an hour, it was late and the only thing to see was all the people and the last performance of the night right before everyone lined up to see the parade. I had relaxed a bit by the time the parade had ended and was hoping that we’d go to a gay club after. But, my friends were seasoned in being bisexual, they had seen gays, been there, done that – this wasn’t anything new to them. I didn’t want to make a big deal about it, but I was disappointed especially since I had never been to one. I didn’t know where else to meet women! Online dating was a concept I had yet to consider.
My disappointment ended the following year when I got to go to my first gay club. A gay rodeo theme no less. My first time at a gay club and there I was walking around in a cowboy hat that was handed to me shortly after paying the cover charge, then I rode a mechanical bull. My best friends convinced me that if I got on it, I would surely land some phone numbers. I didn’t, getting thrown off a mechanical bull is probably the opposite of hot. It did provide a good laugh for my best friends. I didn’t dance with any women that evening, though I did have a damn good time. It has been pretty much the same with every PRIDE. I go, watch the parade, dance, hang with my friends and am ignored by most of the women. I don’t understand why there isn’t one female who might want to dance with me. They walk by, or stand around looking too cool too smile and dance with the girl dancing to the lip-syncing drag queens on stage. I sometimes think I’m going to be like the Billy Idol song, ‘Dancing with myself’ until the day I die. At least I can say I had a good time all by myself. It’d be nice to meet someone who isn’t too drunk to recall who they danced with, has some brains, a sense of humor and a goal in life – this may be asking too much for people one meets at a nightclub. However, I’d like to not spend another PRIDE dancing with drunk gay men who lost their friends at the club because it was so crowed.. they aren’t going to ask me to dinner tomorrow night.
Posted in Uncategorized
Tagged gay, john waters, lesbian, pride, rocky horror picture show
I knew I was different before I understood the concept of bisexuality. I knew what gay and lesbian was. I didn’t know until my 20′s what being bisexual was. I know the exact moment when I realized I wasn’t like everyone else. It hit me one day. I was in 10th grade and prior to 10th grade, everything seemed great. I had okay grades, I liked school, I danced, I was a gymnast, I was on the pom-pom squad, I sang, I was an artist, I had made a bunch of new friends in high school – ones that were not obsessed with being popular, or looking a certain way, they liked fashion and culture, but it didn’t rule their lives. They had depth. They were real, honest people. We’d laugh telling jokes, doing silly things, but talking about the serious things in life as well, and we were inseparable. We’d sit together at lunch, we’d geek out together over pop culture or books – we were geeks, and devoted to each other. I seemed to have had everything going for me. Then in 10th grade I recall walking down the hallway to class and I realized that I felt miserable. It was like the color and life was sucked out of life, at that moment. Everything and everyone seemed so trivial and stupid: Look at those guys walking down the hallway laughing – what’s so funny?.. or that couple making out – he’s screwing around on her – nothing lasts… what’s the point of going to class they’re just going to read the textbook to us and I’m going to write a poem – I’ll get a “B” on the exam without ever paying attention in class… Maybe it was maturity that suddenly hit me. But I also knew at that moment, right there in the then, ‘new wing,’ that I was different. And not in the way that, ‘everyone is different and special.’ No I was different. I wasn’t like everyone else. That was all I knew. And I had to keep that in check. Sure I was slightly eccentric, but it was okay, I was an artist we’re alloted “slightly eccentric.” But I knew I was beyond “slightly eccentric.”
I’ve since read over and over how gays, lesbians, bisexuals and transgendered people have always felt “different.” Sometimes it takes years for you to even know how you are different, but you just know. Unfortunately back then, “different” felt bad, like maybe I wasn’t supposed to be that different. I had tried in the past to be like everyone else and I’m pretty sure they saw right through it.
Despite feeling different, I managed to have a plethora of boyfriends. Most of them bored me after a few months or days. My family thought I was especially picky in choosing a mate. I am picky. Bisexual doesn’t make dating easier, now I just have more options. It does put a name on those feeling I’d had that didn’t seem to have a name. My love of watching and looking at pictures of some of my favorite female musicians. Or feeling embarrassed about changing in front of other girls in dance and gym class. When I got to college, all the artsy lesbians thought I was one of them because I wore mens’ and womens’ clothing, simultaneously. I probably did look like a dyke. My standard attire usually consisted of a concert t-shirt, v-neck sweater, dickies, and men’s airwalk sneakers. Dickies don’t need ironing, nor do concert t-shirts. It wasn’t because I was trying to portray to the world my queerness, I was just lazy and liked to avoid things like ironing. I still hate ironing.
My first year at UMASS this girl in figure drawing class would always flirt with me – she was so obvious, even I knew she was hitting on me. I was out of state and had no friends at school, so I just went with it, nothing ever came of it. Though at the time, I did wonder why I wasn’t bothered by her flirting. I thought it was because I was comfortable with who I was. Which I suppose could’ve been the case… if by my third year at UMASS (at age 23), I hadn’t developed a crush on one of my female classmates. I once tried to ask her a question about class and proceeded in making a stuttering, stumbling ass of myself. At first I tried to tell myself that my interest in her was aesthetic, like Anaïs Nin talks about in her interest in June Miller in her journals. Anaïs Nin and I had a lot in common, in that respect. Only it wasn’t 1930, it was 2000. It was okay to have a romantic interest in women in 2000, the police won’t arrest me for being gay. I didn’t have to lie. It took almost a year before I could admit to myself and my own best friends that I liked men and women.
Someone once asked me how I would describe my experiences with life and sexuality and I said,”stumbling, bumbling, expanding, regressing, drifting and dreaming.”
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Please make a donation to RAINN (reference: GBBMC2008 + my name with your donation. )The Rape, Abuse & Incest National Network is the nation’s largest anti-sexual assault organization. RAINN operates the National Sexual Assault Hotline with a nationwide partnership of more than 1,100 local rape treatment hotlines, providing victims of sexual assault with free, confidential services around the clock. The hotline helped 137,039 sexual assault victims in 2005 and has helped more than one million since it began in 1994.
