Take My Arm, My Love
Monday, April 28, 2008

When ABC news did their second social experiment about Public Displays of Affection (PDAs) by having a gay male and a lesbian couple kiss and cuddle in public (the first experiment used straight couples), the reactions were varied.

There was the woman who called the cops:

Operator: "Birmingham Police operator 9283"

Caller: "We have a couple of men sitting out on the bench that have been kissing and drooling all over each other for the past hour or so. It's not against the law, right?"

Operator: "Not to the best of my knowledge it's not."

Caller: "So there's no complaint I could make or have?"

Operator: "I imagine you could complain if you like ma'am. We can always send an officer down there."

And they did . . . . The officer told our couple that the police dispatch received a call because the two of them were making out.

"Just don't do that in public," he told them before leaving the scene.

There was the woman who said:

"I would actually want our kids to grow up in a place where they would see various types of people engaging in behaviors that [are] loving."

And then there were the people who took a whole different "think of teh childrenz!" tack:

"I don't really find it inappropriate, especially during the day when schoolchildren aren't running around. They might get confused and want an answer for what's going on," bystander Mary-Kate told us. The majority of the people who spoke about children seemed to echo Mary-Kate's feelings."

Which means, basically, these folks are fine with "Gay PDA" -- as long as they don't have to face the uncomfortable, icky business of explaining to their children that not everybody on earth is like mommy and daddy.

Which kind of sucks.

My partner and I rarely engage in kissing in public (even around our friends), but that's a personal choice based on our desire to keep our sexual intimacy extremely . . well . . . intimate. When we kiss, we like to kiss for real, and that's for us. (And yes, it is hot, thank you very much. And no, you may not watch.)

However, I doubt that most straight, cisgendered people think about, or notice, how frequently they touch their partner in public in ways that are not necessarily "sexual" (in addition to kissing, cuddling, and the odd bum-squeeze) -- ie. holding hands, walking with an arm around the waist, smoothing the other's hair back out of their eyes -- nor do I think that most straight, cisgendered people are probably aware of the fact that when I touch my partner in public, it's nearly always a considered act.

I don't obsess about this -- as in -- it doesn't eat up my days and nights -- and I'm probably about as "out" as a queer can be in this country -- but every single time I take my partner's hand on the street, or toss my arm over her shoulder or around her waist, hug her goodbye or hello, I do a little, tiny "security sweep".

I notice who is around, and where I am, and what the energy feels like -- before I touch her in public. It's a tiny amount of attention, most often, but it's there.

I just noticed recently that in an unknown situation that seems "sort of" safe, (like walking in a crowded mall) I'm more likely to curl her arm through mine than to hold her hand -- which may seem counter-intuitive, since arm-in-arm actually affords much closer body contact -- but after I thought about this, I realized that walking "arm-in-arm" is something that I see straight girl-friends do more often than holding hands (after they're 12, anyway). In considering this choice, I also realized that in many situations, I'm happy to give any possible bigots in an uncertain setting the option of assuming that we're just a couple of straight girls.

Which sorta sucks.

I recognize this as the internalized homophobia that it is, but I can't deny that it's present in me. The fact is, that I stop, look, and listen before I demonstrate physical affection toward my beloved in nearly every public setting that is not clearly "queer safe".

I'm butch, and I seem butch (even to people who will tell you that their gaydar is hopelessly mis-calibrated). I seem butch no matter what I'm wearing, or what length my hair is. It's fairly difficult for me to "pass" -- even when I want to. My gait is stompy, and my demeanor, direct. I've always been that way -- from little on. My favorite colors in clothing are black and blue (Couture D'Bruise, as I like to call it) -- partially because my color sense sucks ass, but mostly because I have better things to do than figuring out what to wear.

My partner is androgynous-to-femme. She often wears dresses because she genuinely likes wearing them, and usually sports smashing combinations of floral tones or deep purples with highlights of teal.

And we adore each other.

If you caught us in an unguarded moment, this adoration would probably be very visible to you, whether we were snogging away like sex-crazed maniacs or sitting across the room from one another reading our respective books -- so moving out into the world also involves, for me, some adjustments beyond whether I touch her physically or not.

I notice that, in public, I seem to have an automatic timer that warns me not to gaze at her as long as I might at the privacy of our dining room table, a subtle mask that shifts the set of my smile when I respond to hearing her laugh, and an inner language editor that reflexively erases "honey", "my love" and "darling" from my lexicon as I'm calling to her across a parking lot.

I want to make it very clear that I don't think about these things.

These adjustments have become so internalized that I rarely, if ever, notice them -- until I sit down to write a post like this.

They are part of the enculturated self- censoring that most queers learn in order to assure their own safety in the world (and sometimes, their very survival). In fact, I had to "unlearn" many other, more rigid, tendencies to automatic hiding when I finally made the decision to be completely "out" as a lesbian.

I don't edit myself this way because I am ashamed of being a lesbian. I do it because I'm afraid that someone else, who thinks I ought to be ashamed of being a lesbian, might hurt me -- or worse, hurt my beloved.

Back in 1988, when I came out completely and publicly via a two-part article in the Oregonian, the nutcase Lon Mabon was mounting the first of many campaigns to curtail LGBTQ rights in the state of Oregon, in the guise of "Measure 8".

My oldest and best friend (a straight, married girl) poo-pooed the whole thing, saying "we've come farther than that, the Measure will never pass, tempest-in-a-teapot, blah, blah, blah" -- and stated that she couldn't understand why I was so upset about the whole thing.

This friend is the sister I never had. I loved her (and love her still) dearly, and her inability to see how the Measure 8 (which was passed that year) was likely to affect me and my family was incredibly painful to me. I remember weeping in her living room as I tried to explain something that was, to her, completely invisible. I talked to her about how scary it had been to come out publicly after having led a fairly comfortable life as a closeted queer, and she just didn't seem to get why it should be a big deal at all.

So, I issued her and her husband a challenge (and I'll issue the same challenge to any straight coupled allies here who want to raise their awareness of LBGTQ issues):

Spend an entire week pretending that you're not a couple. Don't write a check from a joint bank account. Hide all the photographs in your home and office which would identify you as a couple. Take off your wedding rings. Touch each other, and talk to each other, in public, in ways that could only be interpreted as you being "friends". Refer to yourself only in the singular "I", never in the "we". When you go to work on Monday, if you spent time together on the weekend, include only information which would indicate that you went somewhere with a friend, rather than your life-mate. If someone comes to stay with you, sleep in separate beds. Go intentionally into the closet as a couple. For a week.

They took my challenge.

They lasted exactly three days.

My friend returned to me in tears on day four and said: "I'm sorry. I had no idea what it is like for you."

[For those of you straight allies who are not coupled, but who want to play along, your challenge is (perhaps) simpler: Spend one week in which you make no mention and give no hint of your sexual orientation at all. When straight people around you are parsing the hotness of the opposite gender, go silent, or play along in a way that makes it seem as if you are part of the gang, but never reveals any real personal information. If someone asks you about your love-life, be evasive and non-committal. If you went on a date, and you're talking about it later, de-genderize all the pronouns, or consciously switch them (him to her, her to him, etc.).]

That is how I lived for the first 32 years of my life, whether I was single or coupled.

And while my current self-editing is not nearly as extreme as it was before I made the choice to live as an out lesbian, it's still self-editing.

I am still alert in public settings and default-cautious with strangers around revelation of my sexual orientation, no matter how much self-esteem I posssess. Every time I meet someone new, I silently (and mostly, unconsciously) assess how I think they will handle the information that I am a lesbian.

That's one reason that I like my handle (PortlyDyke) -- because people's immediate response to it (friendly or foe-full) usually gives me some information in that initial assessment process, and saves me the trouble of "coming out" to them. I also let potential clients know, via my business website, that I am a lesbian -- right out front -- and figure that if they still hire me, well, they knew what they were getting.

It's one of the reasons that I've chosen to live in a small town that is known for its liberality and quirkiness -- where it is unlikely that I'm going to get hassled on the street for looking butchy, and where, if I was hassled, there would probably be some people around who would help me out (I hope) -- but also one of the reasons that I would not consider setting foot in the road-house near the paper mill unless I were accompanied by two or more straight friends.

In truth, these assessments and considerations are so much a part of my existence that I barely notice them, and the availability of the choice to either remain closeted or come out (a choice which is available for many, but not all queers) is one of the things that can make homo-/trans- phobia a very tricky sort of "-ism" to deal with.

[A thought which arises at this point: I imagine that these types of behavioral adjustments and choices are also made by people of color who can "pass" and mixed-race couples.]

The queer couples smooching for ABC had a camera crew and back up. The city officials and police departments had signed off on the experiment. I'd really love to hear an interview with those couples about whether the public affection they displayed is typical of how they would act on any street, at any time, or if they noticed subtle or overt changes in how they interacted because they had "permission" to be fully de-cloaked as queers.

In examining all this, I realized that, for me, choosing the closet, even in this incredibly subtle way -- by taking my beloved's arm instead of her hand on the street -- is simultaneously a direct participation in the heterosexist system that would deny me equality, and a prudent move to preserve my safety.

Which definitely sucks.

Take my hand, my love.

Posted byPortlyDyke at 2:27 PM 15 comments  

Labels: Homophobia, Queers, True Stories

Fun Facts to Know and Tell: Jesus & Teh Gay
Friday, November 2, 2007

These days, you run into a lot of people who like to tell “stories”.

It’s really fun to tell stories.

One of the favorite type of stories that many people like to tell are “Bible Stories”.

Isn't that great?!?!

The problem is, some people like to tell “Bible Stories” that aren’t actually in the Bible.

I run into this problem a lot when people want to tell Bible Stories about “Teh Gay”, so I thought I’d put together a little primer for people who may not have actually read the Bible (and it turns out a lot of people haven’t actually read the Bible – especially people who like to tell Bible Stories and make them into big, fun cudgels to hit other people with!).

Fact or Fiction? Jesus thinks Teh Gay are sinful, and He said so.

Fiction.

Here’s an electronic copy of one of my very favorite Bible Tracts (click for animation):















Jesus never said anything about Teh Gay, or “Homosexuals” (or “Sodomites”, even).

It’s possible that it slipped his mind. He was awfully busy, and he only had three years to spread his message about how people should cast logs from their own eyes before they cast the motes from their brother’s eye and stuff.

Now that I think about it, though . . . . it would have been kind of hard for him to say anything about “Homosexuals”(or “Sodomites”, even), because there was no word in ancient Aramaic, Koine Greek, or Mishnaic Hebrew (the three languages commonly spoken in the Holy Land at the time) that means “Homosexual” (or “Sodomite”, even).

None of these languages had a word that meant “homosexual”, because at that time, the concept of a group of people who were “homosexuals” didn’t exist.

There were sexual activities that were prohibited by certain religions or cultures at the time (including having sex while on your period), but these were considered to be actions that anyone might participate in.

The idea that certain people were homosexual wasn’t conceptualized until the late 1800s. (The word “homosexual” is first recorded in print in a tract by Karl-Maria Kertbeny, which he published anonymously.)

In Biblical times, it was assumed that everyone was heterosexual, but that they might engage in homosexual acts. (So maybe Larry Craig is keeping up an ancient biblical tradition!)

Your head must be a-flutter at this point -- you must be wondering:

"But Portly Dyke! If there wasn’t any word for Teh Gay in Jesus’ time, what’s with all the 'Sodomite-This', and 'Homosexual-That' in the writings of the apostles, since Jesus himself had nothing to say about this pervey population?"

Well, as it turns out, the words which have been translated as "sodomite" and "homosexual" (from either “Kadesh” OT Hebrew or “Arsenokoitai/Malakoi” NT Greek) don't actually translate as "sodomite/homosexual".

I'm going to concentrate on "Kadesh" --as there is some reason to believe that "arsenokoitoi" might have been a word that Paul/Saul of Tarsus just made the fuck up! (OK, sorry -- I lost my "voice" there for a moment -- now moving back into light-hearted, comforting Biblical-scholar mode . . . . .).

“Kadesh”, in Old Testament Hebrew, refers directly to the concept of prostitution -- and not just any old run-of-the-mill street-walkin’, either!

Specifically, Kadesh means: “Temple Prostitute” (the word "Kadesh" is translated literally as "Sacred One/Sanctuary", and shares roots with the word "Kohdesh" -holy/sacred). Kadesh is the word for a male who has been dedicated in a pagan temple to provide sexual services in celebration of a specific deity.

Interestingly, the female version of “kadesh” (kadesh-ah) has always been translated in the OT as "harlot" or "prostitute", but as early as 500 C.E. (AD) the male "kadesh" magically became “sodomite” (even though there IS no word “sodomite” in Hebrew) – See, Look Here:






Click image for clarity.

The word for “Sodomite” (as in “dweller/person/man of Sodom”) would have been (and, in the OT, is always written as):
אַנְשֵׁי סְדֹם (pronounced: Ahn-shey S'dahm)
(Sodom) (Men of)
which looks (and sounds) nothing like "kah-desh" -- קָדֵשׁ.

Now, we all know that Sodom was a very, very bad place (and that is actually a Bible story) – but here’s what the Old Testament has to say on the precise reason why Sodom was such a very, very bad place:

Ezekiel 16:
49 Behold, this was the iniquity of thy sister Sodom: pride, fulness of bread, and careless ease was in her and in her daughters; neither did she strengthen the hand of the poor and needy.
50 And they were haughty, and committed abomination (תוֹעֵבָה Toyevah) before Me; therefore I removed them when I saw it.

So now we know – the dwellers of Sodom did, indeed, commit “abomination” (תוֹעֵבָה Toyevah).

No one knows exactly when they were committing abomination, but some historians figure it was around 1892 BCE/BC.

A lot of Bible story-tellers like to say that the "abomination" in Sodom was "homosexuality", but from what Ezekiel says above (it's estimated that the book of Ezekiel was written in 500 BCE/BC), there may be reason to question whether the whole "Bad Ass Homos in Sodom" qualifies as a real Bible story, but there may be a real reason for opponents of SCHIP to be worried. Uh-oh.

For those who want to argue about the sins of Sodom from a New Testament angle -- Jude did write about "strange flesh" in reference to Sodom and Its sins, but this may have been a reference to people who are into rape (or specifically, into raping angels -- Wow! -- that's just got to be Extra-bad karma!) -- but Jude was writing at around 50-60 CE /AD.

So who you gonna trust?

Someone writing one thousand 392 years after the event? (*Ezekiel saw the wheel, way up in the middle of the air*)

Or someone writing one thousand 948 years after the event? (Hmm. Can't think of a good song about Jude at the moment . . . . OK -- how about this? *Hey Jude, don't make it bad . . . *)

These are tough choices, to be sure.

And the question remains: Exactly Which abomination did Sodom commit? (Cuz, the OT lists a whole bunch of things that are Toyevah/abomination).

Sooooo ---- Ding Ding Ding Ding!!!! It's time for a round of Abomination BINGO!!!

Was it:

• Remarrying a woman you sent away/divorced? ~ Deuteronomy 24:4
• Sacrificing while you're wicked? ~ Hebrews 15
• Following the way of the wicked? ~ Hebrews 15
• Thoughts of wickedness? ~ Hebrews 15
• Melting down an idol and keeping the gold? ~ Deut 7:25-26
• Bringing this gold into your house? ~ Deut 7:25-26
• Being Proud of Heart? ~ Proverbs 6:5
• Committing wickedness when you're a King? (Uh-oh, Georgie!) ~ Prov 16:12
• Sacrificing a blemished ox, or sheep to the Lord? ~ Deut 17:1
• Lying with mankind as with womankind? ~ Lev 18:22
• Making your children walk though fire? ~ Deut 18
• Consulting divination? ~ Deut 7:25-26
• Consulting a ghost? ~ Deut 7:25-26?
• Wronging the poor and needy? ~ Ezk 18:
• Stealing something? ~ Ezk 18:
• Breaking your word? ~ Ezk 18:
• Worshipping idols? ~ Ezk 18:
• Charging interest? (Uh-oh, Corporate Banking!) ~ Ezk 18:
• Giving someone more than 40 lashes?(Uh-oh, "Enhanced Interrogation Techniques"!) ~ Deut 25
• Muzzling an ox when it is treading corn? ~ Deut 25
• Not marrying your dead brother's wife? (You know, she can loose your shoe and spit in your face for that!) ~ Deut 25
• Intervening in your husband’s fight with another man? ~ Deut 25
• Weighing something illegally? ~ Deut 25
• Watching while your brother's oxen and sheep are driven away and not bringing them back? Or his ass? Or his garment? Or not helping him if his ass or his ox fall down? ~ Deut 22
• Wearing garments not assigned to your gender? (Uh-oh, Me!) ~ Deut 22
• Making a graven or molten image and set it up secretly? ~ Deut 27
• Justifying the wicked? Condemning the Righteous? ~ Prov 17:15
• Saying "Peace, peace" when there is no peace? (Uh-oh, Military-Industrial Complex!) ~ Jeremiah 8:11

All of these things (and more!) are cited directly as “abomination” (תּוֹעֲבַת – Toyavah) in the Old Testament .

If you're trying to choose the "correct" abomination for what qualifies as true "Sodom-y", and you feel confused, don't feel too bad -- I, too, once felt confused about Sodom and just what, exactly, it had done to earn the firey, brimstoney wrath of God.

And that's when I discovered it --

THE pinnacle list of abominations (תועבות) -- That's right! --

(Please visit back tomorrow for my spiritual deconstruction of the struggle I went through in deciding whether or not to post this video at all.)

The point being: Sodom’s “Abomination” could have been any one of the things listed above. G-d just isn’t all that specific about it (except where He is specific about it).

Then again, like Jesus, God might have been very busy at the time of the Ezekiel 16:49-50 “snowflake” memo (like Son, like Father, as they always say!).

The moral of today's post is: 1) If you're going to tell Bible stories, make sure that you tell stories that are actually in the Bible, and 2) if you want to use a certain Bible story to validate your point of view, understand that another person might use the same Bible story (or any other wonderful Bible story) to invalidate your point of view, or validate a completely different point of view.

Cuz that's what's really FUN about the Bible!

Posted byPortlyDyke at 9:40 PM 12 comments  

Labels: Homophobia, Queers, Religion, Xtians

The Amazing Vanishing Queers
Saturday, August 25, 2007

This week, I read an open letter over at Incertus from Bradley, who was asking gay people not to boycott Ft. Lauderdale just because their mayor is a flaming asshat.

I commented (as is my wont):

"Personally, I've never been certain about "stay away" boycotts, especially as concerns LGBT issues -- precisely because the whole idea is to "disappear" us anyway (Get back in that closet, you pesky things you!).

I would suggest something more directed and visible: Have all the people of Ft. Lauderdale who hate Naugle's policies and homophobia put a sign up at their business (prominent and visible from the street) that says "Mayor Naugle is an Idiot", and instruct LGBT tourists to support these businesses exclusively -- at the same time, have STRAIGHT tourists who are gay-supportive boycott in a "stay-away" fashion."

I've been thinking about this a lot since I made that comment.

For over 20 years, I've advocated "coming out" (for both LGBT people and their supporters), as the single most effective strategy for combating homophobia.

In effect, an LGBT boycott of Ft. Lauderdale's as a tourist destination simply does precisely what Naugle wants: He waves his magic wand, opens the robo-toilet door (to the tune of a quarter million $$), and Poof! -- the poofs are gone!

I'm not going to go into prolonged, agonizing detail about the depth and breadth of Naugle's idiocy. Bradley, over at Incertus, has already done that, (and if you haven't read Incertus, I heartily recommend that you do so) -- Bradley even coined a new term for Naugle, et al, that I love: Crupid (Crazy AND Stupid).

In case you're not into a full surf-fest tonight -- suffice it to say: Naugle contends that gay public sex is a huge problem in Ft.L -- 8 arrests in two years! Yikes! (This is by Naugle's account -- 2 arrests by other accounts). Those 8 arrests constitute whopping .004% of the city's 185,000 people -- yes, that's right -- 4/100% of one percent are having it off in public bathrooms -- it's an epidemic, I tell you, an epidemic!!!!!

Naugle also says things like: "I don't use the word gay. I use the word homosexual. Most of them aren't gay. They're unhappy." But he also says: "I'm not homophobic, and I'm not a bigot."

Well, phew! I feel so relieved!

But back to my point . . . . . I'm almost sure I had a point . . . . . Ah! Yes!

I'm really not sure that "stay away" boycotts are truly effective for minority populations that bigots actually wish would simply "disappear". This includes LGBT people, immigrants (legal and illegal), people of color in regions where they are in the minority, religious minorities, etc. (Did I miss anyone?)

I think that "stay away" boycotts work very well in situations where you are part of an unseen/unheard majority (or near-majority), or where the functioning of day-to-day society rests heavily on your minority's provision of participation (think middle-class factory workers, civil rights actions in the segregrated South, and Cesar Chavez).

One of the problems with boycotts is that they require either a) significant numbers, or b) great stamina. Unless you can marshal a significant majority in order to create a high-profile impact immediately, you're going to have to rely on steady erosion of profits over time to change political and/or social attitudes.

Gay tourism currently accounts for about 11% of the Ft. Lauderdale tourist dollar each year. That's not too shabby. However -- it's not unthinkable that an infusion of homophobes who have been called to "Support Mayor Naugle" might intentionally visit Ft. Lauderdale when they might otherwise have trekked to Jesus Camp, and offset this. (Cuz Naugle has a dog! And a kid! And he married Barbie!!)

Make no mistake -- the loss of 11% of your annual income would probably get your attention. It would definitely get my attention.

But remember this one little detail: In order for a boycott of your business to work, you would have to KNOW that this 11% drop-off was lost due to a factor that you had some power over. Which means that every boycotter would have to let you know why they had stopped patronizing you.

It is, to me, a pretty apparent truth that you generally know much more about the people that DO spend money on your business than about the people that DON'T.

This is where Queer boycotts get problematic. A lot of LGBT folks are still in the closet. Many of them are unlikely to send a letter to the Ft. Lauderdale Chamber of Commerce or City Commissioners saying: "My name is ___________, and I'm (gay/lesbian/bi/trans), and even though I spent $_____ in Ft. Lauderdale last year when I visited your fair city, this year, I'm spending my money elsewhere, because your mayor is a bigoted asshat."

(That's the message that I would encourage every LGBT person who does decide to boycott Ft. L this year to send, BTW.)

Because: Vanishing without a trace does absolutely nothing to help a movement that is about visibility.

(If I could emphasize that statement any more with my limited html skills, I would.)

Some of you may have recognized this post as the tired old rant of a retired activist, or, more hopefully, as a partial primer on the dynamics of successful boycott.

I participated in my own oppression as a lesbian for years and years and years, by not coming out. I opted to disappear rather than speak up. One of the lasting lessons that I learned was: If you want someone to recognize and affirm/accept you as you are, shutting up and going away just doesn't really work all that well.

So, this year, I hope that there is a veritable plethora of lesbians, gays, bi-sexuals, and trannies in Ft. Lauderdale, being themselves, shopping only at merchants who proudly display the sign "I Think Jim Naugle is Crupid!" (or, more simply: "Flush Naugle!"), letting these merchants know that this is why they are shopping there, and happily enjoying themselves. (After all, we are "teh gay" -- we have a reputation to uphold.)

And as for Mayor Naugle, my position has not changed:

"I don't mind straight people, as long as they act queer in public."

Posted byPortlyDyke at 4:16 PM 4 comments  

Labels: Homophobia, Queers

The "Gay Agenda"
Wednesday, August 22, 2007

I'm really too fucking tired to blog about much of anything tonight, but I can send you on to something you might find illuminating and/or interesting:

One Possible Impact of Homophobia (I think)

Be sure to follow the links at the end of each post in the series.

Posted byPortlyDyke at 11:14 PM 1 comments  

Labels: Homophobia, Queers

Are You My Ally?
Saturday, August 18, 2007

In the past couple of weeks, I've noticed that, during my blog-reading adventures, I've felt a little tiny twinge everytime I read something like: "This is particularly hard, coming from one of our own", or "it's especially difficult to take this from someone on my own team".

I actually like the word "ally". I've used it as a relational category for people that I wouldn't probably want to get all buddy-buddy with, but with whom I do acknowledge a certain idealogical or principalic connection.

Recently, though, I've been noticing that recurring twinge, and as I've examined it, I've wondered if it may have to do with the combative/competitive/separative connotations of the word "ally" that are evoked in me by these statements ("one of our own"/"on my team" -- which implies that there is someone who is not "one of us", or that we are on a team, playing a game, which means that someone wins, and someone loses).

I notice that I don't have this twinge when I think of the less war-like definitions of "ally": an associate who provides cooperation or assistance.

In my life, I've found "allies" in odd places -- sometimes where I least expect it.

There was the long rambling discussion that I had on a train with a Mormon mother of 8 who told me that, although she was often conflicted about the subject of homosexuality from a spiritual basis, she strongly opposed any government action that oppressed gays or kept equal rights from them, because, as she said: "They could decide to do the same thing to Mormons".

There was the dinner-table conversation with my entire FOO (family of origin) where my fundamentalist brother-in-law and I found ourselves on the same side of an argument about home-schooling.

There have been people that I hated to say I agreed with when they made a cogent point, but I believe that intellectual and personal integrity requires that I acknowledge this when it happens.

I've known burly he-men who were more actively "feminist" than I was, and straight people who were way less willing than I to let a homophobic comment slide.

Conversely, I've experienced situations where I discovered that people who I thought should be my "natural allies" were not. I've heard grossly anti-feminist sentiment from radical lesbians, been on the receiving end of inflammatory and violent actions from self-identified peace activists, and been given lectures rife with capitalist dogma by avowed socialists.

So, who is my "ally"?

In my 30s and into my mid-40s, I interacted almost exclusively with lesbians (outside of my work). This was my culture, my community, and my environment.

For the last 10 years, my life has been very different, and my culture, community, and environment are far more diverse. Of those who I consider as being within my closest and most intimate circle, these individuals now span a wide range of orientations, ages, classes, spiritual approaches, nationalities, and races.

I consider these people my "friends", but not all of them are my "allies" in certain areas. One of my close friends spouts fat-phobic remarks (about herself usually, but never about me) on a regular basis. One of my close friends believes that the work I do for a living is blasphemy when regarded from his spiritual perspective. I love these people, and spend time with them whenever I can. So, I assume that in my mind, "ally-ship" is not a requirement for "friendship". Which confuses me sometimes.

I wonder if this separation between my concepts of "ally" and "friend" represents some idealogical schism in me. Do I hold my "political/activist" self as a separate being from my personal/social self? Is that necessary? Is it healthy? Does it support integrity in me?

I began this post with a question, and thought I might actually be able to answer it -- but now I seem to have simply manifested a bouquet of additional questions. (I hate it when that happens.)

I'd simply return to the definition of ally that I like: "an associate who provides cooperation or assistance" -- but this, too, seems like a garden of questions -- What is "cooperation"? "Assistance" with what?

I'm now realizing that I ask myself these questions every time I interact with someone who I think might be a potential ally. Someone posts about a subject that I feel passionate about, and I search their writing for evidence that they are "on my side" , or that I agree with them, or that their voice might be adequate to speak what I might have said. If there are little nuances to their words that create an eddy of disturbance in me, I notice that I calculate whether it's worth it to point this out, or whether it's more important to just support my ally for the bulk and intent of their piece (I'm not saying this is a good thing, just that I notice that I do it).

I think, though, that the "twinges" I've been feeling about this whole ally thing really have to do with this: I am aware, lately, of feeling less and less like someone who is engaged in a rational discussion in my nation, and more and more like someone who is in an embattled position. I notice that I don't even bother to comment at right-wing sites at this point. I bear the assumption that my very handle (PortlyDyke) will result in automatic dismissal, if not downright harassment.

I'm disturbed by the growing separation that I perceive in the USA, the "Us" and "Them" constructs that I find creeping into my own language. I'm disturbed by the fact that I watched the Republican debates only to see how outrageous the candidates might be, rather than in any remote belief that one of them might say something substantive, and the fact that I watched the Logo debates to see if any of the Dems were about to grow a spinal column on gay rights -- one of "my" issues.

I'm disturbed by how many times I've read (or typed) the words *running for cover* in comments and forums that I think of as being populated mostly with "allies".

So, I think it's time I got clear on what (or who) constitutes an "ally" for me.

Here's what I've got so far:

1. I tend to feel "allied" with people who can imagine the circumstance or situation of others, and make some attempt to take that into account as they communicate.
   
2. I tend to feel "allied" with people who passionately embrace and communicate about their own personal experience while acknowledging that the experience of others might be equally valid. (Shorter PortlyDyke for 1 & 2: I value the ability to engage in compassionate accountability.)
3. I tend to feel "allied" with people who take responsibility for their words and actions.

Some lessons I have learned about "Allies" in my short time on Earth (51 years is NOT a long time, I have discovered -- I feel like I'm just getting started).

1. Just because someone decides to "let you be" for the moment doesn't necessarily mean they are an ally. Many gay bars existed prior to Stonewall -- the politicians, policemen, and others who ignored them (until they didn't ignore them) were not gay rights allies. When you become inconvenient to them, a person/organization/structure that is not an ally will have no problem throwing you under a bus.
   
2. Just because someone decides to side with you for the moment doesn't necessarily mean they are an ally. Bill Clinton made masterful use of his "pro-gay rights" stance -- until his campaign was over. Yes, he did a lot of nice things like appoint gay people to his cabinet, and I think that probably did assist the gay rights movement. But I still don't trust him as far as I can throw him.
   

That's all I know so far. I'm going to be thinking (and reading, and watching) this whole sticky issue of "allies" from now on. Especially when I feel that twinge.

So, I suppose the real question that I might pose to others is:

Do you want to be my ally?

Posted byPortlyDyke at 12:25 AM 4 comments  

Labels: Allies, Homophobia, Progressives, Racism, Sexism

Privilege -- Your Own Silent Super-Hero
Wednesday, August 1, 2007

Privilege.

If you're reading this on the internet, chances are you have it, in some respect.

Your privilege may be based on your (perceived) skin color, sexual orientation, class-status, gender, wealth, nationality, or a myriad of other factors. Your privilege may be based on your actual race, creed, or color -- or on your gender, cultural placement, or the happy "accident" of your country of birth.

The problem is that, until you actually interact with people who don't share your privilege-basis, any privileged status you may hold may be completely invisible to you.

Think of it as your own stealthy, invisible super-hero. By virtue of something you don't even notice, you may possess powers that other humans lust after, work for, attempt to purchase, or cannot even imagine.

Today I was reading a post at Shakespeare's Sister. Melissa McEwan closed the post with the line: "That's the difference between being a man and a woman. That's privilege."

I was amazed to find, in some of the comments to the post, that commenters that I usually find astute, aware, and intelligent actually seemed surprised by the findings cited in the study that spurred the post (yes, yes -- the post was about women and sexual harassment/assault -- one of "my" issues -- but lest you think I'm just being all whack-a-doodle feminista here, please try to stay focused -- my subject is "Privilege"). I was very disheartened that some of them seemed shocked to find that they possessed privilege that other people did not share.

I possess privilege. I'm white. I live in the USA. I am a university graduate.

And -- it took me a long time to understand that my foot-steps were constantly dogged by my unacknowledged privilege.

I was down-trodden, dontcha know! -- I was, after all, a lesbian, a woman, raised working-class -- there was always someone "above and beyond" me who was keeping me down. It was easy to focus on "Them" -- those privileged, lucky bastards/bitches -- rather than take a look at the ways in which I, simply by the seeming serendipity of my skin color or nationality, might also be unconsciously utilizing my privilege, or filtering experience through it -- and, consequently, playing deaf, dumb, and blind to the fact that my privilege exists, and that I rely on it every day to pave a smoother way for me in life.

There it is (my privilege) in that last sentence -- see? -- I can say "deaf, dumb, and blind" and pretend that this is just "an accepted phrase", and that everyone, including people who are actually deaf/hard-of-hearing, or dumb/speech-impeded, or blind/sight-impaired will "get" what I'm saying, and that I mean no offense. In truth, I mean no offense -- but this does not erase my privilege as a person who still possesses "normal" hearing in both ears, "normal" speech abilities, and "normal" sight.

So it is that one of my staunchest male allies might not have any idea that I deal with misogyny every day, --that, portly and dyke-ly as I may be at this point (which ostensibly would make me "unattractive" and "sexually undesirable"), I still board a bus with a sense of being "prepared" for possible harassment in a way that my ally does not.

So it is that I, a confirmed liberal, civil-rights advocate, and activist, might not have any real idea of what my liberal/advocate/activist sister or brother (whose skin color doesn't qualify them as "white") face as they do something as mundane as shopping in the grocery store of a small, mostly-white rural town (or a suburban "Whole Foods", for that matter).

This post was not just stimulated by a single read-of-the-day for me. It was augmented by reports that there is now a "dress-code" for White House touring groups, which prohibits, amongst other things, dreaded "sneakers", tank-tops, and mini-skirts (which we all know are a danger to our nation, right?), that anti-abortion activist haven't actually thought about what would happen to the women who have abortions if abortion were illegal, and that a huge number of politicians seem to think that they do not have to maintain any ethical standards, so we need to spend time and money legislating on that.

All of these reports, to me, reek of privilege, privilege, and more privilege. I'm going to stay with these "little" stories -- at this point, I don't even want to begin to touch on the effects of privilege on the incredibly dissociative and destructive wars that our privileged nation is carrying out or facilitating around the world.

I'll take what I think is the most mundane example: The White House Dress Code.

I honestly think that many people in my country -- the good old USofA -- land of opportunity -- could easily dismiss the dress code story as something insignificant. I think that many would simply say: "Well, big deal -- so you can't wear jeans to the White House? So, just dress up! Everyone has a pair of dress shoes and a pair of pants that aren't jeans."

Well, actually -- No.

There are real people in this country who own one pair of shoes. Many of them are poor children of poor working parents. When your choice at the thrift-store is between tough sneakers or jeans that are going to be daily wear until your kids outgrow them or dress shoes and pants that they're going to wear just in case they get invited to the White House, what do you think you would choose?

Yet being faced with this kind of choice is something that many, many, many people in our culture can't even imagine.

That's privilege.

It's the "can't even imagine" part that gives the hushed hero of privilege so much energy.

I can't imagine the oppression that I don't face. I can only ask people who endure that oppression about their experiences, and listen to their answers. Which means that I have to get up close with them, and open my fucking ears, rather than argue with them, or compare their situation with mine, or the situation of someone I know, or expound on some thesis or theory that makes me feel better as a person of privilege.

It's not always been easy for me -- because I wasn't able to see that damnable transparent crusader until someone pointed it out to me, and even then, I kicked and screamed and flailed and thrashed -- because I WAS AN ALLY, DAMMIT!

A long time ago, I asked a black friend what she thought was the best way for me to deal with my inculturated racism. She said: "This isn't just about racism. It's about everything-ism -- invite people who are different from you into your life -- not just invite them to dinner, or a party -- have them in your life, and be in their lives. If you want to deal with your racism, hon, there's one real quick way to do that -- hang around in real time with people of color often enough that you get called "n-lover" at least three times in public. You're going to see that your white privilege can be stripped from you mighty quick if you really involve yourself with people who are not white."

She then laughed and said: "When I started hanging out with you long enough that someone accused me of being a dyke, I knew I was starting to work some shit out."

IMO, there's only one way to fire your silent super-hero -- move into places and spaces where he shows up for you -- so that you can turn to that slippery mother-fucker, and say: "Look -- I realize you've protected me, and helped me down the line sometimes, but I really don't want your help anymore."

Of course, you can't fire someone you can't see. So start looking.

Posted byPortlyDyke at 1:00 AM 6 comments  

Labels: Homophobia, Privilege, Progressives, Racism, Sexism

TTDT -- Be Prepared to Speak Your Truth
Wednesday, July 18, 2007

I think we've all had the experience. Someone -- perhaps someone we know, love, or expect something different from -- says something, right in front of us, that we find so offensive, ignorant, discriminatory, and/or demeaning-- that we are absolutely flabbergasted.

Example: My mother (the woman who used to be all liberal and shit -- who taught me that racism was a really bad thing) says to me, during a phone call, of the Somalian refugees who are now living in her small town: "Well, they all look alike you know!"

Example: My co-workers, who work every day with my white boss (who happens to be married to a black man), and seem to love and respect her, wait until she, and every person of color, is out of the room before they exclaim over the picture of her new daughter: "Oh, thank goodness -- she's so light!"

These are only two of many (personally-experienced) examples -- examples of speech that I recognized, in the moment, as absolutely, positively, unvarnished racism-in-action.

When I heard these statements, I didn't wonder in my head (as I often do, when I receive or overhear a fat-phobic or homophobic comment, however overt) -- "Am I just being sensitive because this is 'my' issue?" I knew immediately that these comments were offensive, ignorant, discriminatory and demeaning.

Yet, in both of the examples above, I was utterly flummoxed at the moment. I did not make an immediate response. I did not speak my truth in the moment, and I lived with regret about that afterward, stewing for days and days about what I should have done in the moment, regardless of what action I took later.

In the first example with my mom, at that moment, I remember that I stammered -- my dad, lingering on the extension phone, jumped in for a quick recovery, changed the subject, and ended the phone call within the next 60 seconds.

In the second example with my co-workers, my jaw actually dropped -- I simply stared, speechless, at them over the picture of this beautiful child, and before I could think of what to say, they had already slunk away to their respective work-stations, and left me standing alone in the break-room.

In both of these encounters, and in many others -- like "Joe" (Vs. the Volcano), as he quits his "job" -- I found my mind whirling around this phrase:

"I should say something."

In truth, however, at each of these moments, I had no idea what to say. While I tried to catch my breath, my brain was, no doubt, busy calculating the risks of possible confrontation, the likelihood of effecting change in the situation, and the emotional and energetic cost of engaging with someone who could say "something like that" while I was a) totally pissed off/triggered, b) uncertain whether I ever wanted to talk to them again, and c) totally pissed off/triggered.

Would I/Should I? --

1. Launch into an educational diatribe about the heinous results of racism, whether intentional and practiced, or unconscious and entertained?
2. Simply say, in measured tones: "I can't believe you just said that," and stalk away, clothed in my outrage, hoping that they would understand what had offended me?
3. Raise my voice to match the intensity of my emotional response and emphatically state: "That is a racist comment, and I won't stand for it!" and hope that someone might actually have the guts to meet me in the crucible where my personal activation was swirling with a global human issue?
4. Shout with all my might: "You fucking hypocritical turd(s)!", and refuse to deal with them until they apologized?

I've actually done all of those things, in other situations. I haven't found them to be tremendously successful in effecting the change I want to make in the world.

Here are two of the most effective consciousness-changing actions I've ever taken (the first of which I wouldn't have even thought about if I hadn't answered a QOD at Shakesville the other night):

Action #1: Dark theater, 1995. Showing of "Higher Learning" in a cinema located in a well-known liberal west coast city. Audience of 200 or more, mostly urban, well-educated folk.

The movie is all about oppression, and the audience seems to be following along, getting the gist of it all -- until, HORRORS! -- there's a (minuscule -- like maybe three seconds, tops) lesbian kissing scene-- at which groans, retching noises, and choruses of "oh gross!" break out in the theater. I am stunned for a moment.
I can't believe what I'm hearing.

Then, somehow, without thinking, I say, calmly, in a voice just loud enough to be heard throughout the theater: "I'm a lesbian." The place goes dead fucking silent.

The woman next to me fidgets throughout the rest of the movie, but the woman who is in a seat two rows in front of me sits through the credits, as I do, and when the theater is all but empty, and I am leaving, she touches my arm, and asks: "Was it you who said that?" -- "Yes," I answer (after looking around to see who might be waiting to beat the crap out of me).

"Thank you for saying that," she says.

Action #2: I am leaving my brother's second wedding with my mom and dad. They are taking me to the airport. It's a long drive.

On the way, parental units are ripping my new sister-in-law a new asshole. I have no idea why, really.

I suspect they're really mad at my brother, for ruining the "no-divorce" streak that our branch of the family had maintained for a couple of generations, but they're ripping on the new wife, not my brother. I first engage in an educational manner, trying to appeal to "reason" -- but they're having none of it.

Finally, I said: "You know, when I hear you talk like this, I wonder what you say about me, when I'm not here."

Then there is a long, uncomfortable silence, which does not seem to portend any great shift of consciousness.

A year later, my dad takes me aside, and tells me that he remembered what I said, and has thought (and acted) differently about gossiping or complaining about people in the family, ever since.

The commonality in these two actions, I believe, was my willingness to be vulnerable in the moment.

I usually find it much easier to speak up and out on behalf of others -- to protest and confront racism, trans-phobia, hetero-phobia, religious intolerance for religions that are not my own, etc., etc. -- than it is for me to directly confront fat-phobia, homo-phobia, or misogyny, or any of the "isms" that are focused at me directly.

I think this has to do with the fact that I have a suspicion/understanding that it is actually possible for me to see things and hear things through a very subjective filter that may, or may not, provide me with an accurate view of what has just happened. (Shorter Portly Dyke: I don't trust myself.)

I spent several decades of my life perpetually pissed off -- not without reason, mind you -- but, in retrospect, I believe that there was a period during I was actually addicted to my anger -- I became more loyal to my rage than to my reason, and more attached to my identity as an oppressed person/victim than to my desire or motivation to effect change.

So, now, I keep a sharp eye on my RighteousWrath-O-Meter, especially when responding to issues that strike close to the bone for me.

I don't have judgment about feeling mad -- I think that the energy of this emotion can be (and wants to be) transformed into action very effectively. I believe that feeling "pissed off" is telling me something (but probably nothing that feeling "slightly irritated" wasn't telling me, long before I registered being pissed off).

However, I haven't found pedantic lectures, icey walk-outs, or incendiary spews to be necessarily effective.

The one thing that I have actually found to be effective is: My truth. How I feel in the moment.

I wish now that, when my mom had said that, I had responded immediately with: "Mom. I feel sad and mad when I hear you saying that. It doesn't seem to fit for me with what I've heard you say about judging people by their skin color." (Because that's what I thought when I heard it.)

I wish now, that, when my co-workers said what they did, I had responded immediately with: "I feel very bad, and very sad right now. I have the sense that I've just been included in a 'whites only' conversation, and I don't want to be a part of that. I feel scared to even say this, because I think that if I say it, you'll start treating me like you just treated our boss -- waiting for me to leave the room to say what you really think."

This post was inspired by two things:

1. Thorn's posts at Shapely Prose. Reading her story, with all the "messy" vulnerable feelings included, brought me closer to her experience, and helped me to commit again to speaking up in the moment when I witness or experience oppression.
2. An experience that I had recently, where the power of telling a personal story of my own, and including the emotional content, without trying to look all "cool", shifted a conversation/conflict dramatically.
   

So here's the TTDT:

Be prepared to speak your truth -- not "the" truth, and not some "prepared statement". Your truth, in the moment.

Be smart, witty, whatever you will -- but also -- Remember to tell people how you feel -- describe your emotions and experience -- not just the feeling of being mad/angry/rage-full, but also the sadness, the feeling of being scared to speak up, the fear of being "thrown out" or discounted, or simply the dissonant twang that arises when something has been said and you haven't yet figured out, intellectually, what exactly is bugging you about it.

You may be thinking: "Well, they don't care how I feel -- if they did, they wouldn't say what they said!"

Just try it. Try a bit of vulnerability. Sure, they may go for your throat. But hell, if they're as bad as you are projecting them to be, they're going for your throat anyway.

I'm going to be working with this through the next week.

Posted byPortlyDyke at 10:35 PM 5 comments  

Labels: angst-Loss, Fat, Homophobia, Politics, Progressives, Racism, Truth

Scratch a Prude, Sniff a Perv
Thursday, July 12, 2007

Something I get, and two things I don't get.

I get that the phrase "Methinks the Lady doth protest too much," is cliche.

Why, then, doesn't our culture seem to get that? That's the first thing I don't get.

As glass houses come tumbling down about the ears of "RIGHTeous" men, over and over and over again, you'd think the accuracy of our Hypocrite Early Warning System would improve, wouldn't you?

Why is it, after so much experience, that when some asshat starts screaming about teh gay, or teh fambily valuez, or teh trampling of christian rightz, we do not simply slap a decibel meter on them, calculate the frequency and acoustic levels of their outbursts, chart the algorithm from past data, and set the fucking timer for their projected MMM??!! (Moments to Moral Meltdown)

I mean, really. I do not get why there is any element of surprise to the whole thing anymore.

It just so obvious. One of the ways that I personally determine where people score on the "gay aptitude test" is their level of knowledge about/interest in anything gay (regardless of whether this expresses as a positive or negative attitude).

Example: A friend (I call her "Sherry") was quizzing me about being a lesbian. I had always thought of her as one of the most heterosexual people I had ever met, but until this day, I wasn't exactly sure why I thought that. She asked me, "So, when you make love with your girlfriend, don't you miss the closeness?"

I was completely baffled. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you know . . . . the closeness."

"I really don't know what you mean, Sherry. Do you think we have sex, like, from separate rooms, or something?"

I then realized that she simply could not imagine having sex without having a penis in a vagina. She literally could not imagine it. That's why I think of her as unremittingly straight.

See, people who don't want to have a certain kind of sex don't seem to spend a lot of time imagining what it might be like. They also, in my experience, don't spend a lot of time insisting that other people not have that kind of sex -- it just doesn't occupy much (or frequently any) space in their minds.

The second thing I don't get is: How in the world do these people think they're not going to get caught?

These are some of the same people who supported Bush's illegal wire-tapping and internet-harvesting programs. Surely they must know that we live in an increasingly transparent age in terms of personal information.

Is it simply staggers-the-mind quantities of denial?

Is it passeth-all-human-understanding levels of arrogance?

Is it something in the communion wafers? I mean, really --- how do they manage it?!?

See, now right at that moment, I almost feel sorry for them. I have known the agony of the closet . . . . the terror that someone might find out who I really am, and judge me, and scorn me, and fire me, and beat me.

But I never for an instant actually thought that it was impossible that someone might find me out. So I came out of the closet, instead.

So what do they got that I don't got?

Oh, yeah -- they've got the "Get Out of Hell Free" card. As Kate Clinton once said (I paraphrase): "You say your confession, do your penance, and you're back on the street."

In the interest of supporting the Constitution and forming a more perfect Union, establishing Justice, insuring domestic Tranquility, providing for the common defence, and promoting the general Welfare, I am now requesting that each of you begin exercising your Hypocrite Early Warning System.

Exercise:
Choose a screetcher about values/morals/wev, and using the algorithm of past cases, calculate their projected time to MMM.

This is not a psychic, woo-woo exercise. Be scientific. Use your brain.

Special Credit if you successfully predict what method they will use to dodge responsibility for their acts. This is multiple choice:

1. It's a misunderstanding.
2. I've already confessed it to my preacher.
3. The Devil made me do it. He's after me personally because I am such a force for Good.
4. All of the above.
   

Posted byPortlyDyke at 11:59 AM 7 comments  

Labels: Bad Behavior (Others), Homophobia, Sex, Xtians